Chapter 17
Lottie
The knock is soft but deliberate, echoing in the quiet of the house.
I glance up from the couch, heart thudding a little faster, and my chest tightens.
I wasn’t expecting anyone—not today, not ever, really.
My fingers fidget with the hem of my hoodie as I rise, the familiar anxiety crawling up my spine.
I open the door.
And the world tilts sideways.
Peter. My dad. Standing there, worn but sober, hands slightly trembling, eyes wide and uncertain, like he’s not sure I’ll recognize him, or worse, like he’s not sure I’ll hate him.
“Scar,” he says softly, almost a whisper, like he’s afraid that if he speaks louder, I won’t believe it’s really him.
“Dad?” My voice is a fragile thing, barely above a whisper, and I freeze. My stomach churns, tears prick at my eyes, but it’s not anger. It’s relief. It’s a longing I’ve tried to bury for two years. He’s alive. He’s actually alive.
Before I can think, before I can calculate whether it’s safe, my legs move on their own. I throw myself into his arms, collapsing against him with a sob that shakes my body. His arms wrap around me instantly, strong and warm, holding me as though he never wants to let go.
“Lottie,” he murmurs, voice thick, catching on his own emotions. “Scar… my Scar. I—” He swallows, and I can feel him trembling against me.
I squeeze him back, relief and fear and love all tangled in the hug. “I thought you were dead,” I whisper, voice breaking, burying my face into his chest.
“I never stopped looking for you,” he says, rubbing my back, his own voice cracking. “Never. Every day, I searched. I couldn’t believe you were gone.”
I pull back just enough to look at him, searching his face for the man I remembered, the man who had loved me even when my world was falling apart.
The face staring back is lined, tired, but there’s an undeniable softness behind the fear in his eyes.
“I… I thought… Roman… he told me you were gone. That you were—”
“Not dead. Just searching for you, because I couldn’t believe you were dead. It would have broken me…” He shakes his head quickly, anguish etched in every line of his face.
My breath hitches. The air between us feels too heavy, thick with words we don’t know how to say. His hands stay on my shoulders like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go.
“I thought you left me,” I whisper, voice trembling with a pain I’ve never let myself admit out loud. “I thought you chose your addiction. I thought you had overdosed.”
His face crumples. “Scar, no. No, baby, listen to me.” He grips me tighter, desperate.
“I was sick. I was so far gone I didn’t even know who I was half the time.
But you were always enough. You were the only thing that mattered.
That’s why I told you to run. That’s why I shoved the money in your backpack.
Because I couldn’t protect you if you stayed.
And I thought. God, I thought if you ran, at least you’d live. At least you’d be free.”
The memory slams into me like a tidal wave. His shaking hands forcing the bag into my arms. The frantic look in his eyes. His voice, harsh and breaking, telling me to go, to never look back.
And me, so desperate to escape James and Lorenzo, that I chose the cliff instead of the bus.
Choosing silence instead of survival.
“I didn’t run,” I admit, my voice raw. “I tried to, but then they were there. And I couldn’t do it anymore, so I jumped.
I just wanted to be free, I just wanted to disappear.
” My hands shake, and I press them against his chest like I’m holding him here, making him hear me.
“You saved me, but I couldn’t even save myself. ”
Peter’s eyes close, and a strangled sound escapes his throat.
“Jesus Christ. Scar…” He pulls me back into him, clutching me so tightly it almost hurts.
His chest shakes beneath my cheek, and I know he’s crying.
“I thought I failed you when I couldn’t find you.
I thought every night about what I could’ve done differently, how I should’ve been stronger, better, clean.
If I hadn’t been so weak, I could have saved you. ”
“You weren’t weak,” I cut him off, even though part of me still wants to scream it. “You were my dad. You tried.”
He leans back just enough to look at me, tears streaming down his face. “I wasn’t there, Scar. Not the way you needed me to be. And I’ll carry that until the day I die.”
I want to tell him I hate him. I want to tell him I love him. The words clash inside my chest until they come out as another sob, raw and ugly.
Then a voice cuts through the moment, sharp and cold.
“Step away from her.”
Will.
I stiffen instantly, my pulse jumping, because I know that tone—deadly, and protective. He’s standing in the doorway to the hall, his eyes dark and unforgiving, his whole body coiled like a predator.
Peter doesn’t let go, but his grip softens, his hands lifting slightly like he knows how close he is to danger. He turns his head slowly toward Will. “I’m her father.”
“You’re a ghost who’s suddenly decided to crawl back into her life,” Will snaps, moving closer, every word dripping with distrust. “And I don’t give a damn who you are. You don’t get to touch her. Not without proving you deserve to.”
My heart lurches. I step halfway between them, hands trembling. “Will, stop. Please. It’s okay. It’s my dad.”
Will’s gaze cuts to me. “He left you. He didn’t protect you. We’re the ones who picked up the pieces. I’ve seen what happens when he fails you, and I won’t stand by and let it happen again.”
Peter shakes his head quickly, his voice rough but steady.
“I didn’t leave her. I sent her away to save her.
I gave her everything I had left, and I told her to run because I couldn’t let her mother sell her to that monster.
You think I don’t hate myself every day for what happened?
For not being enough? But I never stopped looking. I never stopped loving her.”
Will’s jaw flexes, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Love isn’t enough. Do you know what she’s been through? What she’s survived? You don’t get to walk in here and pretend a hug erases the damage of years of abuse and neglect.”
I reach out, gripping Will’s wrist before he can move closer. “Stop. Please.” My voice cracks, but I force it steady. “He’s my dad. I… I can’t lose him again.”
The room goes quiet. Peter’s breathing is uneven. Will’s gaze burns into me like he’s trying to make sure I’m not making a mistake.
Finally, Will exhales sharply through his nose, stepping back a fraction. His voice drops low, turning to Peter. “One wrong move. That’s all it takes. If you hurt her again, I’ll end you.”
Peter doesn’t flinch. He just nods, his eyes still on me. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
I press closer to Peter, clinging to the part of me that’s still a little girl who needed her dad. His arms tighten around me, his breath shuddering as he buries his face in my hair.
Will lingers longer than I expect, his eyes flicking between us, like he’s debating whether to drag me out of Peter’s arms or put a bullet in his chest. But finally, with a sharp shake of his head, he mutters something under his breath and stalks down the hall, disappearing into the kitchen.
The sound of a cupboard slamming tells me exactly how little he approves.
The silence that follows is heavy. My heartbeat is a drum in my ears, my throat dry as I step back slightly from my dad. Peter looks wrecked—his face lined, his eyes wet and glassy, his hands trembling like the weight of holding me again might crush him.
“Come on,” I say quietly, gesturing toward the couch. My voice shakes, but I keep it steady enough. “We need to talk.”
He nods quickly, like he’ll follow me anywhere, and we sit side by side. Not too close, not yet. My body wants to lean into him, but my mind is a storm of questions, doubts, and memories of silence.
I turn to him, searching his face. “Why didn’t you find me sooner?”
His hands scrub over his face, like the question itself hurts. “I tried, Scar. I tried every damn day. After I got out of rehab… Elijah… he was the one who got me in, did you know that?”
My stomach twists. Elijah. The man who took James’s life. The man whose hands are stained with the same blood that destroyed mine. I shake my head stiffly.
Peter continues, his voice low and rough.
“He showed up after James died. Said he owed me, owed you. He paid for the program and made sure I stayed long enough to actually get clean. And for the first time in years, I could think straight. And when I did, all I could think about was you. My little girl. I thought you had died, but I couldn’t accept it, not when there wasn’t a body, so I scraped together everything I had and went looking for you. ”
I close my eyes, the memory of the night he made me leave playing on a loop. His shaking hands, his voice breaking, the fear that I was finally going to be completely and utterly broken.
The night Scarlett died.
“You tried to save me,” I whisper. “You pushed me. You forced me out the door like my life depended on it.”
His shoulders collapse. “Because I was terrified. I knew if I hesitated, if I let you see how scared I was, you’d stay. And if you stayed, Tracey would’ve traded you like you were nothing. I thought I was saving you.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I shake my head. “You did save me. But not the way you think. I didn’t run. I… I couldn’t. I jumped off the cliff.” My throat tightens, the words almost choking me.
Peter’s eyes widen, his entire body jerking back like I slapped him. “Jesus Christ…” His hand flies to his mouth, voice breaking. “Scar, why? Why would you—”
“Because it was easier,” I cut in, my voice sharp through the tears. “Because I couldn’t breathe with everything closing in. I thought it was the only way out. But I was wrong. Archer pulled me out of the water. He saved me. And I changed my name. Scarlett died that night, and I became Lottie.”
He stares at me, tears spilling down his face, his breathing ragged. “I thought I lost you forever. I thought I failed you so badly you didn’t want to live anymore.”
I flinch, because it’s true. For a long time, I didn’t.
“You didn’t fail me,” I whisper, even though the truth is messier than that. “You made mistakes, but you loved me. And that’s more than I can say for her.”
His jaw tightens at the mention of Tracey. His hands curl into fists against his knees. “If I could go back, if I could kill her before she ever touched a needle or a bottle, I would. I’ll never forgive myself for letting her near you. For not getting you away sooner.”
I shake my head, tears streaking my cheeks.
“It’s not about forgiveness. I don’t have that in me.
Not for her. Not for Lorenzo. And maybe not for you, not yet.
You still chose addiction over me. To hide behind the numbness it offered your guilt.
But… I love you, Dad. I always did. I thought you were gone, and it destroyed me.
But you’re here now. That’s all I want.”
His breath shudders as he pulls me into his arms again, burying his face in my hair. “I love you, Scar. I always have. I always will. And I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”
I cling to him, feeling the truth in his trembling body, the brokenness in his voice. For the first time in years, I let myself believe I have a father again.
From the kitchen, I hear Will, pacing like a caged animal, listening, waiting. I know he’ll never trust Peter the way I do. But that doesn’t matter right now. Right now, I’m in my dad’s arms, and I’m not letting go.