Chapter Thirty
Elise
The gate slid shut behind us with a low, final hum. The adrenaline that had carried me through every word I’d thrown at my father was draining fast, leaving my legs unsteady and my mind terrifyingly blank.
I’d meant every word. That didn’t make it easier to hear it replay in my head, or to picture the look on his face before I left. I didn’t know who I was without him and my work.
“He won’t be happy that you helped me,” I said to Marcus, one of the guards who had escorted us out.
He met my eyes with the same quiet steadiness as always. “I’m a father first.”
Brady moved up beside me and extended his hand without hesitation. Marcus took it, the handshake firm and brief. “Take care of her,” Marcus said, looking Brady straight in the eye.
“I will,” Brady answered.
We walked to my car, holding hands. When we reached the driver’s side, I kept going, circling around to the passenger door. I opened it and looked at him across the roof. “Will you drive?”
I didn’t trust my hands not to shake. I wasn’t handing over the wheel; I was trusting him to handle what I temporarily couldn’t. He’d offered to help me find my way out with or without him, and that rare, unselfish act was the reason I was choosing to get into the car with him now.
Brady studied me, reading the variables I wasn’t ready to vocalize, then nodded. “Of course.”
I slid into the passenger seat, the leather warm from the sun. The compound shrank in the side mirror as we pulled away. My family had let me have my apartment and the illusion of independence, as long as it stayed within their lines. That was over.
I was breaking free.
Walking—well, driving away.
“Not for forever,” I murmured, staring at the empty road ahead. “I’ll be back.”
Brady’s hand found mine on the console, grounding me. I could still go back. The gates would open, the systems would reset, and the path was still right there. I just couldn’t make it resolve to an acceptable outcome anymore.
The quiet was broken only by the low hum of tires on asphalt. After a few miles, he glanced over. “Do you want to talk about what your father said?”
I shook my head. “I’m not ready yet.” That wasn’t the whole truth; I knew exactly what I wasn’t ready to say. Mrs. Donnelly would have called this “shooting my shot,” but I wasn’t ready to decide if that was brave or reckless.
He didn’t push. After another stretch, he spoke again. “My parents weren’t exactly a really good example of how a healthy relationship is supposed to work.”
“I’m sure they weren’t,” I murmured. “Mine weren’t either.”
He nodded. “I saw a TikTok where a couple said that being one hundred percent there for each other doesn’t mean you’re both one hundred percent every day.
Some days you are. Some days one person can bring thirty percent and you have to bring one hundred seventy percent.
The next day you can only bring fifty percent and then you have to bring one hundred seventy percent. ”
I shook my head, the smallest smile tugging at my mouth.
My brain immediately flagged the logic error, but I let it go.
I didn’t want to be right. I wanted this.
I sniffed, the heavy emotion softening into something warmer.
“Your math isn’t mathing, but I think I understand.
” I leaned toward him slightly. “So, if you could bring one hundred seventy percent for a few hours, I can bring fifty percent.”
Brady chuckled. “I’m really good at a lot of things. Understanding people comes naturally to me, but I’ve never been good with numbers.”
I blinked and bit my bottom lip. “You don’t say.”
The desert rolled past us, wide and open, carrying us back toward my little apartment with the butcher paper and the half-finished chart of names and strings.
Toward whatever came next. Every version of independence I’d had before came with conditions; this came with a choice I couldn’t fully comprehend.
I looked at the man beside me, the one who had promised a guard he would take care of me, who was entirely willing to carry 170% without being asked, and let out a sigh full of yearning.
My father built systems that couldn’t fail.
Brady simply showed up, and somehow, that felt just as solid.
“What should we do now?” I asked quietly.
Brady glanced at me, that easy smile touching his eyes. “Well, tomorrow is Wednesday and I still have a roll of quarters.”
I laughed, the sound surprising me. “With everything else going on?”
He squeezed my hand. “That’s exactly when you need to surround yourself with normal.”
Normal. I didn’t have a working definition for that anymore, but I desperately wanted one. I rested my head back against the seat, his fingers warm around mine as the road stretched out in front of us.
For now at least there was no going back.
And maybe, if I was lucky, we’d leave the senior center with more coins than we brought.