“So what’s going to happen?”
“Things are going to change. I know what’s going to happen with me, but, kid, you need to figure out an answer to that for yourself.”
He hopped up on the tailgate and put his arm around me. I still didn’t know what to say. It was all so much to process, but it explained a lot about the past few months.
“I never meant to clip your wings when your momma took off, but I did. And I love you more than anyone I’ve ever loved—her included—God knows it’s true. But I’ll be damned if I’m gonna watch you let your life pass you by, thinking you have to take care of me.”
He gave me a squeeze. I was confused and a little scared.
“So what are you saying? I have to leave?”
“No. You don’t have to leave, but I want you to. Eventually. I want you to do whatever you want, not what ya think this old man needs you to do.”
I could hardly believe what he was saying.
Dean was buying the shop.
Dad wanted me to move out.
Everything was coming down on me. A knot tightened in the pit of my stomach and clambered its way up into my chest.
“I don’t want you to be lonely,” I said quietly. I’d never said that to him out loud.
“I’m lonely by choice, kid. That’s not your problem. Your problem is you’re making the same damn mistake.”
I looked up at him and admitted, “Dad, I left him.”
“Whatcha do that for?”
“Because he deserves better.”
He tipped his head back and argued, “Ain’t no better.”
“I ran like mom did.”
His arm fell off my shoulder and he turned a little, the rivets in his jeans scraping the metal on the tailgate, then he shook my shoulders.
“You did not. You’re still right here.”
“Yeah, but I just up and left. Then I told him I couldn’t do it. That I didn’t want to be with him.”
“Well, you never were a very good liar. I’ve never known you to fail at anything you put your mind to, and by no means have I ever seen you happier than when you were with him. So what’s that tell ya?”
“He wanted me to move in with him, but I couldn’t do it,” I confessed.
“Yes, you can. I love having you here, and you’re welcome as long as you like, but you ain’t gonna be content here forever, kid.”
“I can’t make him happy.”
“Well, I think you’re wrong. Do you love him?”
There it was.
I fidgeted with the aluminum tab on the can. “Yes.”
“Does he love you?”
I didn’t answer and he gave my shoulders another good shake, telling me to cough it up.
“He said he did, but that was before.”
“Then what’s there to worry about? Go say sorry.”
Sorry? I almost laughed.
“It’s not that simple. I can’t just break up, and then say sorry.”
“Why not?” he argued.
“Because … I don’t know … I just can’t.” I had to make him understand. “If my mom came back here tonight and said she was sorry, would you just forgive her and take her in?”
“If she loved me like you love him? Damn right. You’re. God. Damned. Right.”
I almost dropped my beer. I didn’t know how many times I’d heard him curse her, or cut her down for what she’d done to us. How could he possibly be telling me the truth?
“Bullshit. That’s bullshit. You’d tell her to fuck off.”
“That’s not true. If she loved me, I’d move heaven and hell to keep her. That’s how my love is. I can’t turn it on and off. If there’s love, what else do you need?”
What else did I need?
“What if he changed his mind?”
His expression said he wasn’t sure. “You’ll never know if you don’t ask him.”
“What if I mess it all up?” I asked, knowing that was my biggest fear.
“What’s wrong with messing it up? You were raised better than that. We’re small town folk, we don’t throw something away just because it’s broke. We fix it, Hannah.”
He’d never called me that.
“Hannah?” My voice cracked repeating my name.
“See? It’s never too late to make things right. I’m so sorry I let them call you that.” Then he gave me an apologetic smile, his eyes a little glassy, and I lunged forward into his big arms.
“It’s okay, dad,” I said into his chest.
“Did you know I named you Hannah? I thought it was such a pretty name for my sweet baby girl. Should have always been Hannah.”
I forgave him because I loved him. What else mattered?
My dad was right.
God, I hoped he was right.
I knew exactly what I had to do.
Mr. O’Fallon’s way was only getting about one more day. I couldn’t wait any longer. My phone didn’t ring. Her truck had barely even driven by in the past two weeks.
The day I returned the van, Mr. O’Fallon came over to my house to change the battery in my Escalade.
“You know Mutt’s out at the cabin. You heading out there later?” he asked.
All I’d heard was Mutt.
I was sick of it.
Sick of everything. The idea she really didn’t want me. The idea she didn’t love me. The idea that it could really be over.
To put it mildly, I’d been in a mood.