Chapter 23
Tuck
Consciousness kicks in with a drilling soundtrack. My mind as rumpled as the sheets.
Too many drinks. Too little sleep.
But that’s like worrying about chimney dust from Santa’s gift haul. Because a mild headache and grogginess mean nothing when my biggest wish came true.
A real shot with Pen. A chance to take what’s always been in the shadows and bring it into the light. No more hiding our feelings.
At least…that’s my interpretation of her behavior last night.
Her fingers wrapped through the loops of my jeans as we gathered at the bar. Her head tucking into my shoulder as she laughed at one of Brady’s wildly embellished college stories. Her body curved into mine as we shared the backseat of Vivian’s car on the way home.
And what came after…her hot body spread over mine as we made it to bed. Her whispered confirmation that we have this week to be together, to figure things out.
But now—I reach out my arm and hit vacant air.
“Pen?”
I brave the harsh morning light.
Blink.
And blink again.
Because she’s dressed. And how —
Black suit. Squared shoulders. Sharp. Elegant. A boss.
Realization hits: the funeral.
I sit up too fast, my head reminding me of my poor life choices.
“You’re ready already?” My voice is hoarse. “What’s the time?”
Pen leans in the doorway, fingering an earring, seemingly calm and composed. “I want enough time to greet everyone before the service. A few of the women from Safe Haven are coming.”
“Of course, yeah. I’m up. Give me twenty.”
My heart lurches against my ribs as I get upright and fully take in her astounding beauty. I can hardly bear to leave her—even for a quick trip next door to clean up and grab my suit.
Her warm smile radiates into my chest. And I can’t resist the silky strand of hair caressing her cheekbone. I hook it around my finger and reel her closer. Her face tilts upward, her eyes, golden amber brown, drag me into their liquid depths.
As her lips part, I slide my fingers under her jacket to the silk blouse beneath. Now I’m fully awake and ready for action.
But no. She slips from my grasp.
“Don’t—” She teases. “You’ll spoil my outfit. Go get dressed!”
I inhale coffee as I get ready, and I’m done in fifteen, pulling my suit together as I cross the lawn back to Pen’s.
Adjusting my cuffs, I glance up just as a blue Ford truck rolls in beside her rental.
It idles. Seconds pass. Then the driver’s door creaks open.
A man climbs out. Middle-aged, wiry build, dark hair streaked with silver. He hesitates on the porch, hands flexing at his sides, before knocking in quick succession.
Then he steps back and pulls off his sunglasses.
I reach the steps just as Pen opens the door, catching the second her hesitant smile fades.
Stark, unguarded shock registers on her face.
Her reaction propels me onto the porch, where I size up the stranger wringing his hands, his throat working as he stares at Pen.
“Dad?” Her voice catches.
The word slams into me.
Her dad?
The man exhales sharply, like hearing it out loud winds him.
“Penny—” His voice is rough, his eyes tracing over her. “My god, look at you.”
Pen doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word.
He steps forward, and I match him, shifting closer to her. Not touching, not interfering. Just needing her to know I’m here.
His gaze flicks to me, registers something. “You her guy?”
I glance at Pen. Nod.
He holds out a hand. “I’m Sean. Penny’s father.”
I take it, brief and firm. “Tuck Allen.”
His eyes are dark like Pen’s. But with haunted depths. Like, life hasn’t been easy.
Then he returns his attention to her.
Pen releases her grip on the door, tension easing just a notch.
“I, uh—I heard about Caitlyn.” His gaze drifts past her, into the hallway, like he expects to see someone. “Goddamn, this house looks the same as when I was a teenager.”
Pen’s jaw tenses. “Why are you here?”
His throat bobs. “Someone sent me the funeral notice. Damn, I couldn’t believe it.”
He drops his head, shifting his weight. “I came to pay my respects, but the thing is—” He exhales slowly, as if gathering strength. “I got into town, and all the memories hit me. It’s…overwhelming. And I’m not sure I can do it, you know? The funeral and all? I think I just want to remember Caitlyn as she was. But I wanted to at least see you, Penny. Say how sorry—”
He stops. Because something in Pen has shifted. Her stance stiffens, arms folding tight like a shield.
“Of course you do,” she says, voice taut as a tripwire. “Of course, you’d prefer to think of her as she was. It’s your typical cop-out, isn’t it, Dad? Just hold onto those old memories and never confront the fallout of your fucked-up behavior.
“And how about me?” Her voice is steel now. “Do you keep some old photo of me somewhere to reminisce? To pretend you were once an okay guy? That once upon a time, you were actually my father?”
“C’mon, Penny,” he coaxes. “You know I tried to see you over the years. Your mother put up a lot of barriers—”
Pen holds up a finger, silencing him with a tight, bitter smile.
And if I didn’t know what an asshole he was, I might almost feel sorry for him. Because all the signs are there—Pen’s squared shoulders, her darkening, narrowed eyes—shit’s about to get real, whether he sees it coming or not.
“You mean you promised to come see me, over and over again. Letters, random phone calls…always gonna, gonna, gonna— but you never showed. So if Mom eventually put a stop to it, then I’m glad. Because it hurt more that you kept reappearing with all those empty words. Pretending to give a shit whenever the guilt kicked in. Or was it just the booze that made you pick up the phone and lie to me?”
“I’ve been sober for twelve years!” he growls defensively. “And I’m sorry, okay? That I was such a fuck-up. But I was a kid , you know? Just nineteen when we had you. Can you imagine having a baby at that age? Huh? Yeah, I went off the rails, but I’ve worked hard to be better.”
“Right,” Pen spits back. “And somehow, that self-improvement effort didn’t extend to Mom and me. Because you took the easy option—relegating us to the past.”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t falter. “I am glad you’re sober. I hope that’s worked out for the woman you married and her kids. Did you adopt those two kids, Dad?” she questions. “I assume you did since they were so clearly worth your effort to stay around. To build a cozy family just three hours away in Ellensbrook. Is that where you still live, Dad? It’s famous for Honeycrisp apples apparently, not forgetting its exceptional bike trails,” she deadpans.
“Penny—”
She scowls. “Enjoy your memorial tour of Blue Mountain Lake. The place you ruined for Mom because she was so ashamed to return here as a destitute single mother.”
“Can you just stop and listen?” he pleads.
“No.” She shakes her head, voice firm. “I don’t have time for your poor-me story. Unlike you, I don’t get to just walk away and remember Mom how she was .” Her voice sharpens. “Because someone has to bury her.”
And with that, she turns and disappears into the house.
He stares after her as if still processing what’s happened. Then, he takes a step forward as if to follow.
I quickly hold up a hand, blocking his way.
“That’s not a good idea.”
His sorrowful eyes lock onto mine. “You know she never gives me a chance to explain. I was young—” he starts again, repeating his well-worn defense. “Young and stupid. But I’m still her father. Don’t I deserve some recognition?”
I let that hang. And after a moment, he concedes defeat.
His gaze shifts, roaming aimlessly over the yard. “Penny’s always been stubborn. But I probably don’t have to tell you that, right?”
He shrugs at my lack of response as if he expected as much.
“Well. Anyway, good to meet you—”
“ Tuck ,” I remind him.
“Right,” he says distractedly, already half-turned toward his car.
“And it was good to meet you, too.”
He glances back at me.
“Because you clarified something for me today,” I continue. “Something important.”
His brows draw together. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Because earlier, I told you I’m her guy. But the truth is…I’m not actually sure about that.”
That gets his attention. He studies me, eyes crinkled with concentration.
“I want to be,” I admit. “But she makes it hard. She doesn’t trust our odds. She’s scared I’m not in this for the long haul. That if it all goes wrong, we’ll lose what we do have. And after meeting you? I get why she thinks that.”
His face tightens.
“Sure, you were super young when Pen was born. And yeah, maybe you had struggles. But what about after? Was there never a time you wanted to make it right? To prove to her that she was loved? To rebuild her trust?”
His jaw twitches. “Listen here, Tuck. Whatever you’ve heard, it’s just one version of the story, okay? I’m glad Penny has someone in her life. I hope you two work out better than Caitlyn and I did.”
“Oh, we will,” I promise.
He stares at me for a long beat, and maybe he senses what I’m thinking.
Because one thing I know for certain?
I would never let Pen down the way this man has.
All my research about fatherhood, the studies, the articles, the ammunition I’d planned to use to convince Pen how important a dad is in a child’s life, points to the same truth. A father can shape a child’s self-worth, their confidence, their belief in love. And for girls especially—an absent father can do damage that lingers.
And now, it clicks.
This isn’t just about me making a case for being involved if she decides to have a kid.
It’s about understanding why Pen is so afraid to let me in at all.
Now I step aside as her father makes to leave, shoving on his sunglasses.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“What the hell more can I do?” He drops his shoulders, tipping his head to the sky like it might hold an answer. “I tried. She won’t listen. What more can I possibly do?”
“Well, number one—you don’t give up,” I answer. “You don’t walk away before the deck’s even laid. Did you really expect to say sorry and have her just forgive you for never being there?”
“What the fuck else can I do?” he repeats helplessly, spreading his arms wide, his oversized jacket fluttering in the breeze.
“Show up for once. Show her you give a shit. Be there for her. Don’t run away just because she’s angry.”
He shakes his head. “She doesn’t want me there.”
“That’s not what she said. You were the one who said you weren’t up for it.”
He stills, as if in a battle with himself.
“She hates me.”
“I don’t think she totally hates you.”
“Oh yeah?” he scoffs. “How can you be so sure?”
I smirk. “Because no one ever gets to call her ‘Penny’ and live to tell the tale. Believe it or not, she actually went easy on you.”
His throat bobs. “You think?” His voice is quieter now. “And, you think if I try again…she might listen?”
“I didn’t say that.” I hold up my hands. “But isn’t it worth a gamble? Aren’t the stakes big enough to try?”
He looks down, rubbing a hand over his jaw, his gaze distant.
And I grasp for some self-restraint. To hold back everything else I want to say. This is his move. His choice. I don’t know his life, don’t know what’s held him back all these years.
Even Brady confessed that he would have failed as a parent back when he was making his way in LA, just as Finn was born. Could I have handled a kid before even hitting my twenties?
We’ll never know.
But I know this—Pen is an incredible person who deserves better. Whose father should be prepared to do whatever it takes to win back her affection.
That’s his burden to carry.
Mine is making damn sure Pen never has to question whether I’ll fight for her. That whatever happens, when she needs me, I’ll hold steady. That I’m nothing like the man walking away from her now.
Which means it’s time to take action. The starter gun has fired.