Chapter Thirty-Nine
Thirty-nine
Kian
I’m standing outside the penitentiary, pacing and making myself sick over the fact that my girl is in there, all alone, trying to get her father to hear her out. I don’t hate many people, but I hate him.
Scarlett’s too good for him. Nothing he can say could make whatever she’s been through go away, but if she thinks this is how she’ll get whatever closure she’s looking for, then I’m all for it. Sometimes it takes a lot more than empty words to break past guilt, and I know that more than anyone.
“You can’t stand here.” A security guard approaches me, his gaze scrutinizing my tattoos.
I’m wearing a long-sleeve shirt, but the ink on my hands and my neck is hard to miss. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m pacing and not standing.”
He raises a brow. Not the right thing to say, Kian.
“Okay, okay, I’ll go wait in my car.” I raise my hands in surrender, but I know I can’t leave. I want to be the first one Scarlett sees when she’s out of there.
I pivot back to the security guard. “Do you have a daughter?” I ask him.
He’s thoroughly unimpressed that he’s still dealing with my presence. “Yeah,” he responds gruffly.
I stand straighter. “Okay, now just give me one second to explain why I need to stand here.”
He gestures for me to continue, already bored.
“Just imagine your daughter spends months trying to find you, and then, when she finally does, you refuse to see her.”
He stares impassively. It’s not the reaction I was hoping for, but I swear his eyes softened the tiniest bit. I can work with this.
“It breaks her heart, but she still reaches out. Again and again. Then one miraculous day you agree and now she’s super excited to talk to you.
She goes to meet you, all alone, with no idea how you’re going to greet her after all these years.
So excuse me if I want to be out here for your daughter when she comes out of there. ”
“My daughter?”
“Hypothetical.”
He crosses his arms. “So your girlfriend’s in there? Talking to her dad?”
“He’s more of a shitty sperm donor.”
“And you’re out here in the rain, in case she comes out upset?”
“Upset, happy, neutral. Anything. I want to be here for her.”
He hums in approval. “That’s good of you.”
“Is it? I should be in there with her. I shouldn’t have let her go in the first place.” Everything in me was screaming that it’s wrong, and that nothing her father could say would make her feel better. “I messed up, didn’t I?”
“If some kid loved a girl enough to give her the space to figure things out, but still stuck around to help pick up the pieces, no questions asked, I’d be a pretty damn proud father if my daughter loved someone like that. Someone like you.”
“Sorry, I’m taken. But I’m sure she’s great.”
He stares blankly. “Hypothetical.”
My foot still taps nervously against the concrete. “You really think that?”
He nods. “She’s a lucky girl.”
“I’m the lucky one.”
The doors on the opposite side of the building open, and Scarlett barrels out of them. My resolve drops to the rain-soaked pavement as I wait to see her face.
“Is that her?” he asks.
I can’t answer. I can barely hear him. All I see is the ray of red, engulfed by darkness.
“Scarlett?”
Her gaze lifts to mine, and her brown eyes are drowning in tears.
Her cheeks are wet, her nose is red, and I can see her pink lips quivering even from a distance.
A rush of anger cloaks me. I’m not sure if I’m running or walking; all I know is that I need to get to her and the distance is too much when my heart is in my throat.
Her sob breaks me open when we collide.
“I’m here,” I brush the words against her temple.
I pull my open jacket tight around her, shielding her from the rain, hoping the flimsy fabric could cushion her from so much more.
Each sniffle is a cleaver between my ribs, pressing right into my lungs. Every path my thoughts take to resolve this for her, to take just an ounce of her pain and stop the tears falling like a stream down her reddened cheeks.
“He told me it’s my fault. All of it.”
I feel useless. All I see are the cracks, splitting wider and wider, and no matter how badly I want—need—to be the one who fills them for her, I can’t.
And if I can’t fix this, then what good am I?
My hand covers the back of her head, muffling her half sobs into my shirt.
I can’t hear it. Not a single word. Or I’m sure I’ll be the one locked up in there.
Still no words come to mind, but as the wind blows and her sobs grow even more painful, I move so my lips brush against the shell of her ear and I start to hum. It comes out of nowhere, and I can’t seem to stop it.
It’s the only time her shaking stops. Then when she peeks up at me, everything inside my chest shatters.
“Take me home?”
“With me?” I ask just to be sure.
She nods.