Chapter 32
Indie
T he line rings for the fifth time, and I prepare to hang up.
“Hello?” his groggy voice is full of sleep.
“Hi, Dad.” I let out a soft sigh.
“Hey there, Pumpkin. How are ya? Everything alright? You sound off.”
I laugh at his observation. “How can you possibly know that? I’ve only said two words.”
“Us parents have a sixth sense. What’s goin’ on?”
I let out another low sigh into the phone as I slouch forward in my seated position on the bed, picking at the hem of my blue jeans. “I don’t know, Dad.”
He clears his throat, and I hear some shuffling around.
“This have anything to do with Wilder?”
I hesitate. “Maybe.”
“He hurt you?” His voice goes serious.
“No, Dad. Nothin’ like that,” I reply quickly.
“Hmm… Well, he was always a good kid. He talked about you every time I ran into him.”
“He did?” I ask, surprised.
“Sure did. I wanted to slap the hearts outta his little teenage eyes every time, too,” he laughs. “I don’t know what happened between you, and please, Lord, don’t tell me, but he’s a good one, Pumpkin. Some people you can just tell that sorta thing about.”
Is he right? Yes, I know he is. But that doesn’t help me with the other thing I’m struggling with.
“But you and Mom had it all together, didn’t you? You were best friends.”
“Your spouse is your best friend, and don’t you ever forget that, Ind. But we weren’t perfect. We broke up ten times that first year we dated. All because of my stupidity.”
His words shock me into silence. I’ve always believed their relationship was perfect.
“Except one time,” he goes on. “The final time we split was because she came to her senses and knew she deserved better. I tell you what, my eyes never opened so fast,” he chuckles. “Once I convinced her to come back to me, I never let her outta my arms again.”
Tears fill my eyes, imagining the love they had for each other and the fact that I’m the reason they were separated.
“Wow. I had no idea.” Pulling the phone away slightly, I sniff, hoping he doesn’t hear it.
“Just because I said your significant other should be your best friend doesn’t mean you won’t fight, Pumpkin. It means you will fight. I guarantee it.”
Wow, apparently Wild and I are meant for each other then, I laugh to myself.
“Fightin’— to an extent —is not all bad. It’s good to get your emotions out and let the other person know how you feel. Now, I’m not sayin’ I wanna get a call that you were outside boxin’ Wild in the street,” he laughs. “Fights should never get physical. But you gotta let your feelin’s out. Show you care. If someone’s worth fightin’ for, you fight for them… and you fight with them.”
The idea that arguing and fighting with another person shows that you care has never crossed my mind. Wild and I have never had a problem airing out our issues with one another. Perhaps we’ve been on this track longer than I’ve realized.
“You never told me you and Mom fought. You’ve always painted it as this picture-perfect relationship.”
He chuckles again, the deep sound soothing to my aching heart that misses her dad so much and just needs to be wrapped in one of his big bear hugs. “So far from perfect, Ind.”
“But she left you alone and broke your heart,” my voice cracks. “I don’t wanna do that to someone.” The words are barely audible as they pass my lips.
He exhales with a hum. I can picture the familiar gesture in my mind: him sitting in his recliner, nodding as he considers his next words. Probably even has a cup of coffee in the other hand, slowly rubbing his thumb along the handle.
“Ind, you can’t live your life in fear, or you’re gonna miss the whole damn thing. None of us is guaranteed any specific number of days. We don’t know what could happen tomorrow, or hell, in our sleep tonight. We have to live while we’re here. If we don’t, what was it all for? Do I miss your mom? Course I do. But I’m tellin’ you right now that neither of us regrets our life choices or bringin’ you into this world. And Ind,” he pauses as I continue to hold my breath, fighting back the cry I feel burning in my throat. “What happened to your mom was a very rare thing. The screenings and such are a lot better nowadays than they were almost thirty years ago, kiddo.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Is it bad that I don’t want kids, though?”
I’ve heard what others have said about not letting the fear stop me from the joy of motherhood. But even then, the thought has never felt right—it’s just not me . And that thought always makes me feel like a witch.
“Of course not. Maybe you’ll change your mind one day, but if you don’t, that’s fine, too. Just make sure whoever you’re with knows exactly how you feel about it.”
My mind flashes to Wilder—the serious look on his face and the truth lining his words when we talked about this very thing.
“He does know,” I mutter into the phone that’s pressed tight to my ear.
“And he’s on the same page as you?”
I nod, gripping the phone a little tighter.
“Yes.”
“And you believe him?” he questions without missing a beat.
I know I do. Wild always says what he means. I think I’ve just been running for fear of this actually working out.
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t know what you’re talkin’ to me for,” he laughs heartily.
“I don’t know, either.” I let out a resigned huff and lay my head back on the pillow.
“If you need me, I’m here. Anything at all. A place to stay, an ear to listen. You let me know.”
My dad has never been the emotional type, so the fact that he’s talked so much about all of this with me is more than I honestly expected. I don’t really know why I called in the first place. My heart was conflicted and heavy, and he was the first number my fingers dialed.
“Thanks, Dad. Keep your phone handy. If I need bail money, I’m callin’ you,” I joke.
He lets out another deep laugh. “You know, I’d like to say you’re just like your mom, but all you got from her was your gorgeous looks and big heart. Everything else came straight from your aunt.”
“You mean from you ?” I raise a brow and smile.
“Hey, now. Don’t you go puttin’ me in the same category as you two hellions.”
“You know you love us,” I tease, starting to feel better after talking all of this out. It’s true what they say; sometimes, a girl just needs her daddy.
“More than anything, Pumpkin.” His response makes me smile. I’m so grateful for the amazing man that has always been in my life.
After hanging up, I continue to lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Why have I made this such a mess?
This guy has driven me crazy since we were in high school. But he has always been there for me any time I’ve needed him—whether I wanted his help or not. He’s never been deterred by my constant pushing away, either.
I can’t deny the spark between us, either. He pushes every last button I have, making me want to pull my hair out half the time, though.
But maybe I like it?
Throw in the fact that he has never given up on me, no matter what I’ve done or said… he’s been a constant in my ever-changing life.
Maybe my anger toward him in those moments is just my way of stopping myself from doing what I really want to do. My way of blocking the feelings my heart starts to put out seeing the joy in his eyes when he jokes with me. The comfort I feel being around him.
I’m woman enough to admit that it’s possible I love the fact that he likes me for me . I know I’m a lot to handle, and the fact that he can… Fuck. I need to fix this.
Wild has been helping Cal all day out at his place, and I had work this morning, so we haven’t seen each other since last night when I fell asleep in his arms.
When he gets home tonight, I think it’s time I had an open, honest talk with him. The thought terrifies me, but I know I need to stop running and stop hiding.