“This is your father, Sierra.” I had planned to break it to her gently after Damian showed up at the cemetery, but then he’d disappeared. Now that she’d caught him in my bed, I didn’t want to drag it out any longer than I had to. “I didn’t know he was out until I saw him on The Day of the Dead,” I continued. “He didn’t know you were his daughter until then either. I’m so sorry, Sierra. I wanted to tell you, but I wanted your father and I to do it together, properly. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”
Damian and Sierra regarded each other, him gauging her reaction and her considering him in a new light. My heart pounded in my ears as the silence stretched out. I had thought about this moment forever, thought about the two of them face to face for the first time, father and daughter, and no matter what scenario played out in my head, it was never perfect.
“You really are a bandido,” Sierra said to Damian.
“I really am.” He nodded. “That’s why I was in prison.”
“Can I ask him now?” She looked at me. I nodded because I couldn’t speak, because my throat was clamped tight. I had told her the truth about her father, everything except for why he was in prison. That was for him to tell her. She deserved a clean slate with her father, and he deserved a chance to explain it to her in his own words. Maybe it was a cop out on my part, maybe it had been unfair to keep her in the dark, but that was as far as I was willing to go. She got into scuffles at school because the kids taunted her about the father she didn’t know, but she learned to stand her ground early on and if push came to shove, Sierra kicked ass. She was free-willed and strong, but she was just a little girl. My heart ached as she stood before her father, her hair just starting to grow out from the buzz cut.
“What did you do?” she asked.
Damian stared at his hands for a moment. “Bad things,” he said. “I hurt your mother. See this?” He picked up my pinky finger and held it up. “I did that. I was angry because someone hurt my mother. I thought getting even would make me feel better. For a while it did, but then it just hurt more.”
“Mama said it was an accident.” Sierra’s gaze was locked on our hands. Damian was still holding on to mine, like he needed me to get through this.
“In a way it was. I was going to do something much worse.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but I could feel his agony, his torment, at having to explain things to Sierra, unprepared and unrehearsed. There were no lawyers or judges now, just a father and daughter getting to know each other. When all the chips had fallen, it came down to real people and real moments, to repercussions that stretched far beyond the courts. Damian had served his time, but this was the stuff that really mattered.
“I wasn’t always a good person, Sierra,” he said. “I don’t know if I can ever be the kind of father you’d be proud of, but I hope you’ll let me try. Because you make me want to stop being a bandido, and maybe someday . . . maybe someday I’ll be the hero that you and your mama deserve.”
Sierra’s eyes moved from Damian to me. I knew she was trying to process everything she’d learned. She walked over to the bed and traced my stubbed pinky. For a second all three of us focused on the point where our hands touched—Damian’s large, rough palm cradling ours. Something in me started cracking open, like a long-frozen surface bearing too much weight.
“Come on,” I said to Sierra. “Let me tuck you back in.”
She stopped at the door and looked back at Damian. “If she kissed you, it means she likes you.”
“Sierra!” I tugged her into her bedroom.
“I bet it hurt real bad,” she said as I slipped into bed with her. I needed to collect my thoughts before I faced Damian again.
“What?”
“This.” She entwined her perfect little finger with my damaged one and threw her leg over mine. Sierra was a sprawler. She slept claiming all the space she could.
“Sing to me,” she said, snuggling closer.