Chapter twenty Dallas #2
I hate feeling this sense of regret, of letting words unspoken affect my life still to this day. I guess the question is, do I want them to affect my future, too?
And can Willow still be a part of that future?
“Willow said that you told her not to say anything to me about this,” I finally say, breaking the silence.
She nods. “That’s right.”
“So when did she find out?”
“The night of the veterans’ dinner. I went over to her house after the dinner and introduced myself.
I ditched your sister and told her I wasn’t feeling well because I had to speak with Willow as soon as I could.
” Sounds about right, my mom escaping my sister’s watch.
“Willow told me she put two and two together when she saw you go up on stage to accept your dad’s award.
I am the one who asked her not to say anything, so please don’t hold that against her. ”
“It hurts that she kept something from me, but the person who’s really to blame for all of this is Dad.”
“Your dad didn’t do this to punish you. He did this out of guilt for how he affected Willow’s life. This is way bigger than you and how you think your father felt about you, Dallas.”
“Oh, I know how Dad felt about me. He made that clear when I left for bootcamp, and every deployment after that.”
“Can’t you see that he wanted more for you?
” She leans forward, locking her eyes onto mine.
“Do you know what it was like watching him blame himself for years, fight through demons and struggle with just surviving? There was a point where I thought I would lose him, that he contemplated taking his own life, Dallas. Did you hear me? Don’t you get that?
” My stomach drops from the way her voice shakes.
“We almost divorced when Penn was two.” She inhales and then continues.
“Being a spouse to a Marine is sometimes just as hard as being one yourself. He didn’t want that struggle for you—because he loved you, Dallas.
He didn’t want you to have to sacrifice a part of yourself out of obligation.
He wanted to protect you from the horrors he experienced, despite the honor it was to watch you serve. ”
It’s those words that make me break.
I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose as I fight back sobs.
The couch dips beside me as my mother scoots closer and holds me to her chest, letting the emotions overtake both of us.
My father didn’t want me to live a haunted life like he did.
“He could have said that to me, you know?” I manage to croak out.
“Your father wasn’t the best at communicating, so maybe he tried in his own way, but please don’t hold this against him.
He only did what he thought was best, and I had to support his decision about the house because it helped me get part of my husband back.
” And then she forces me to look at her, tears clouding both of our eyes.
“So please don’t hold this against me too. ”
I lunge for her harder, soaking up her hug, holding onto the woman who has always supported me, and now I realize just how much she gave of herself to support my father too.
Talk about strength and love that is indescribable.
She squeezes me tighter. “I love you, Dallas. And I’m so, so sorry.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
“Please don’t let this ruin what you have with Willow.” She releases her hold on me as we both wipe our faces. “I saw the two of you together tonight, how she fit in here so seamlessly. She’s the one, honey.”
Nodding, I declare solidly, “I know she is.”
“I’ve never seen you like that with a woman before.” Because they’ve never been like her. “And as upset as you might be with your father, in a way, he actually brought you the love of your life.” Tilting her head, she says softly, “How can you be mad about that?”
Repeating those words over again makes me feel like a weight has just been lifted off my chest.
My mother is right.
My dad brought me Willow.
He may not have been there for me in other ways, but even though he’s gone, he’s still trying to lead me down the path he thinks is best—one that leads to the woman I’m head over heels in love with—my future, my life—the one I belong to.
I don’t want Willow to be a ghost that haunts me, catching me off guard everywhere I turn with memories of how she waltzed into my life in her Louboutin’s and lit a match under my ass, one that had me admitting how lonely I’d been.
No.
I’m not going to settle for her ghost. I need her to know how I feel, and hopefully from there, we can figure out the rest.
“Now I know you’re probably itching to talk to her, but you’ve been drinking and there’s no way I’m letting you drive.” She holds her palm out. “Keys.”
“You could drive me over there…” I slap my keys into her hands, pushing my bottom lip out for good measure.
Looks like the alcohol has done its job.
“You need to be sober when you apologize to that woman, and I think our talk tonight gave you enough information to absorb. Give her some space tonight, and then fight like hell for your girl tomorrow.”
“I can’t let her get away, Mom.”
“Don’t Dallas. Please. For all of our sakes.
” She cups the side of my face with her hand, but then her eyes go wide.
“Oh my God. I almost forgot.” She launches from the couch, practically racing down the hallway toward her room, returning just a few short seconds later.
“You need to give her this the next time you see her.”
The old polaroid picture she hands me is faded and singed on the corners, but the little girl standing in the center, holding a duck is still crystal clear.
“Is that…”
“That’s Willow, Dallas. Her parents had that picture with them the day they died. I know she’d want it.”
All I can do is nod slowly. “Yeah, Mom. I think you’re right, yet again.”
***
The next morning, I wake up with a stiff back from passing out on the couch in my mother’s living room, smelling like alcohol and feeling the effects of it as my head pounds. But the first thing that pops into my head when my eyes open is Willow.
I have to make things right.
But before I get very far, an envelope addressed to me sits next to my keys on the counter. My mother is nowhere in sight, so I slide my finger under the seal and extract the folded piece of paper, nearly falling over when I see the writing on the inside.
Dallas,
Son, if you’re reading this, then you now know about the Bayshore house.
I can only hope that your mother was able to explain the situation to you more eloquently than I ever could.
Please don’t be mad at her. This was my decision, and as my wife, she supported it because your mother is the kind of woman who loves with all of her heart.
She loved me even when I felt like I didn’t deserve it, and she loves you and your siblings with everything she has.
That house belonged to my grandparents. Much of my childhood was spent there, running across the sand, enjoying summers in Carrington Cove. It’s why when I had a family of my own, I knew this was where I wanted to raise them.
I just never knew how difficult being a father would be sometimes.
I wish I had the courage to say these words to your face, but after spending years in heated arguments with you, the last thing I wanted was to get in one last one before I took my last breath.
So, I hope you’ll accept this letter from me instead…
because the last thing I ever wanted was for you to live with regrets like I have.
I should have told you this years ago, should have understood your decision and supported it instead of fighting with you about it. And even though you may never believe me, I want you to know: I. Am. So. Proud. Of. You.
My son. My firstborn.
You signed up to sacrifice your life for peace, freedom, and your country.
You followed your dreams even when I didn’t want to risk losing you.
And when you returned home, you did the work to live as normal a life after your service as you could.
I’m proud of you.
I love you.
And I hope you can trust that even though our relationship was futile at times, I have never been more honored to be your father.
If Willow doesn’t want the house, ask her if she’ll sell it to you. But selfishly, I hope she keeps it. I hope she falls in love with Carrington Cove. I hope the people here can help her heal like they helped you and me.
And I hope you’ll help her see that.
I love you, Dallas.
Love,
Dad
By the time my eyes find the last word, I can barely see through my tears.
My mother knew I’d need to process this alone, I’m glad because I feel like I’m about to break in two.
My ass finds the couch again as I reread his words, my father giving me what I needed from him when he was alive. But I guess I should be grateful that his words are at least reaching me after his death.
I stare off into space for so long—numb, angry, remorseful, and shocked, that I have no idea how much time has passed. But as I read through the letter once more, my brain flips back on when I see Willow’s name again.
I need to talk to her. I need to make things right.
So, I find my keys on the counter again and head back to the restaurant so I can shower because I smell like ass and feel pretty shitty too. I practically run back to my car once I’m clean and speed to her house, hoping to God she won’t shut the door in my face.
This woman had no part in our complicated connection. I know that now.
She was just this innocent little girl that lost her parents and inherited a house as a peace offering.
My mother was right. I have no basis for placing blame on her, and if it weren’t for this crazy situation she never would have crashed into my life.
I just hope she’ll let me tell her that.
When I pull up to the house, her car isn’t there.
Maybe she went to the bakery for muffins? Or out to run an errand?
I wait on the porch for two hours before I finally decide to text her. I wanted to surprise her, but at this point, I want to make sure she knows I’m trying to make this right.
Me: Hey. I’m at your house. Where are you? I want to talk. There’s so much I need to say.
My phone is silent for about fifteen minutes before I finally get a reply.
Willow: I’m halfway to D.C. Stopped to charge my car.
No. Shit. I’m too late.
Me: Fuck. Turn around, Willow. Please. I’m so sorry, baby.
Willow: I can’t. I need to go home for a while. I have a lot to think about.
Me: I’m so fucking sorry, Willow. I can make this right, I know it. I talked to my mom. She told me everything. Please don’t leave like this.
Willow: I’m sorry too.
Me: When will you be back?
Willow: I don’t know.
Me: Please come back to me.
But I don’t get a reply, and that’s when I wonder… Have I lost her forever?