DADDY’S GIRLS
ADDISON
I hustled into the warmth of the house and out of the cold after Patrick left. My dad and Sarina hadn’t gone far. They were both standing in the entryway, staring at the walls.
Time had stopped in the home I’d grown up in. Framed photographs were everywhere; even the ones that held Patrick still lined the walls. Almost nothing had changed in the four years since I’d been gone. It might have been weird for other people, but for me, it was comforting. Familiar. Safe.
Sarina eyed each photo, grinning whenever she found the ones that included her. That was when I noticed a few new pictures added to the collection. They were more recent. One of me in a chef’s hat and Sarina on red carpets.
“Where did you get these from?” she asked as our dad hobbled on his crutches toward the living room, and we both followed.
“Your mom used to send me your school pictures, but then I just started stalking you online. That’s what you kids call it these days, right?” He laughed as he made his way toward his recliner and dropped into it, his crutches now resting on the floor.
“You stalked me online?” Sarina laughed.
“You’re my baby girl. I like knowing what you’re up to.”
I watched as my sister sucked in a long breath before she started shaking her head. “I’m so sorry I never came back here.” She walked toward the couch and sat down softly, crossing her legs at the ankles as she turned to face him. “Are you mad at me?”
I sat next to her, half unsure if I should stick around for this conversation or not. But when Sarina reached out and put her hand on my leg, as if reading my mind, I knew that I should stay put.
“Of course I’m not mad at you,” our dad said gently.
“But I never came back,” she said again.
“I never went to New York either,” I added, hoping that she wouldn’t feel so alone in her decisions when I’d made the exact same ones as a kid.
“I didn’t understand at first,” our dad started to explain. “Not any of it. Your mother leaving. Taking you with her.” He shook his head slowly before raising his dark brown eyes to meet my little sister’s. “But I figured out pretty quick that your mother wasn’t ever going to leave New York, and you’d settled in like you belonged there.”
Sarina inhaled long and slow before blowing the breath back out and speaking again. “I did love it. Like, right away, I loved it. And I was in so many extracurriculars that I stopped even thinking about Sugar Mountain.”
Our dad leaned forward, his arms on his knees. “And that’s okay. I knew you were happy. But don’t think for one second that I ever stopped missing you or thinking about you.”
“I got your cards.” She smiled, and my head whipped in her direction so fast.
“What cards?” I asked.
“Dad never missed a birthday or a holiday. He sent cards every year,” she said, cocking her head to one side, as if amused. “You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t.”
I never realized how little we talked about my mother and my sister until this moment. It hadn’t ever felt weird. Maybe at first, but eventually, it was normal, not having them around, and like Sarina had said, I’d stopped thinking about them. Even though she and I had friended each other on social media once we were older, it felt more like observing an acquaintance’s life rather than a sibling’s. The emotional connection hadn’t been there, until now.
“I never wanted you to feel abandoned. I think that was my biggest concern”—his brow furrowed—“that you would somehow grow up thinking your dad didn’t love or want you.”
Sarina shook her head quickly; her hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it away. “I honestly never thought that,” she said. “I’m not sure why because you obviously weren’t around.” She chuckled uncomfortably. “But I knew you loved me. And I knew you didn’t choose to leave. I don’t know.” She shrugged before adding, “I think I always knew if I needed you, you’d come running.”
“I don’t know how you knew that, but I’m really grateful that you did. Your mother must have done something right, raising you,” he said, and I choked on a laugh.
“I wouldn’t give her credit for Sarina’s personality or confidence. If anything, I feel like she grew up to be this amazing woman in spite of our mother,” I said, looking right at Sarina as I delivered the words.
“I know she’s a lot to deal with, but I’m used to her. And to be fair, she did give me a lot. She wanted me to have all the opportunities that she never had,” Sarina said before wincing. “No offense. That’s just what she used to say.”
“She really did hate it here,” my dad huffed out, his tone sounding more sad than anything else.
“It’s her loss,” I said matter-of-factly, and the irony was not at all lost on me.
I’d never once hated it in Sugar Mountain, but I’d still walked away for so-called opportunities that I believed couldn’t be found here. Was that even true?
“It is her loss,” my dad reiterated. “Honey, why don’t you show Sarina to her room? I’m sorry I can’t take your luggage up the stairs for you.”
“I have a room?” Sarina’s honey-brown eyes practically bugged out of her head as my dad laughed.
I’d missed that sound so much.
“Of course. You think I’d turn it into a sewing room or something?”
“I did try to turn it into a gaming room, but he wouldn’t let me,” I said, remembering the number of times I’d asked my dad if I could have her room and the same number of times that he’d told me no.
“You would.” She nudged my shoulder with her own, and we both pushed up from the couch to stand.
“I’m going to run up there,” Sarina said before disappearing.
“I guess we’ll be right back. Do you need anything?” I asked, hating seeing my dad in a cast. It was weird.
He’d always been so indestructible. So tough. Nothing ever kept Jeremiah Whitman down, and here he was, unable to get around without a pair of crutches and clearly uncomfortable.
It sucked.
“I’m good, sweetheart. I’ll just be sitting here, in this stupid chair, with my stupid leg in a stupid cast if you need me.”
Grinning, I ran over to him and gave him an awkward hug. “Missed you so much, Dad.”
“Missed you too,” he said as I pulled away from his recliner and turned to go upstairs. “Hey,” he said, stopping me from leaving. “You okay after seeing Patrick?”
I swallowed hard and tried to formulate my thoughts. I never lied to my dad, and I wasn’t about to start now.
“I didn’t expect to see him so soon. I wasn’t prepared.”
“I told him to let you come to him,” he said.
That made me smile. I imagined the conversation they’d had, my dad trying to be the bigger person and Patrick most likely agreeing, thinking it would be the right thing to do to take his advice.
“Well, that didn’t work out very well, did it?”
“That boy doesn’t listen to anything but his heart when it comes to you.”
“I don’t really hate that,” I admitted.
“I don’t hate that for you either,” he said, and it warmed me to know that my dad still loved Patrick as much as I did. “Go show your sister her room. But I want to hear about New York and everything you’re doing,” he said, and I must have made some kind of face because he saw right through my facade. “You don’t like it there very much, do you?”
“Honestly? It kind of sucks,” I said, and he barked out a laugh that made me start laughing in response. “But the food is amazing.”
“Figured as much,” he said.
I put one hand on my hip and gave him a look. “Oh, yeah? And why’s that, Mr. Know-It-All?”
“’Cause you wouldn’t have stayed gone this long for no reason. Especially if you didn’t like the place,” he said, clearly knowing it all.
I simply shrugged.
He reached down for one of his crutches and shoved me with it. “Go unpack.”
“Hey!” I tried to get away from his new weapon, but he kept poking at me until I finally grabbed my ratty carry-on and headed upstairs, where Sarina already was.
Dropping my bag on top of my bed, I glanced at my walls and nightstand, where so many moments had been stopped in time. Everything revolved around Patrick and our families. I might have been embarrassed or felt immature a little, if my heart still didn’t belong to him. All of our framed mementos still felt sweet and relevant somehow.
Walking into my sister’s room, which she had located all on her own, I found her sitting on her bed, looking around.
“I kind of remember this room now that I’m in it.” She stood up and walked over to the white desk and opened the music box that was sitting on top of it. It was one of those old-fashioned ones with the ballerina inside that started spinning when the top was opened. “I remember this.”
“I forgot all about it,” I admitted.
Sarina’s room had eventually become off-limits. My dad usually kept her door closed, probably to stop me from asking to turn it into something else. As I got older and her room stayed the same age, I outgrew it somehow. It was frozen in a time that I’d somehow dissociated from and packed away. It’d stopped feeling real, like it had never belonged to someone I knew at all.
Apparently, I was good at doing that.
“He never changed it.” Sarina smiled and wiped at her eyes. “Think he’d let me redecorate while we’re here?”
I grinned so big. “Are you kidding? He’d love it.”
“Really?”
“That man downstairs adores you, Sarina. Our family dynamic is a little messed up—I’ll admit that—but does it feel weird, being here? Or being around him?” I asked because she’d asked me those exact questions when I first got to Manhattan and spent time with our mother. Although I instinctively knew that her answer was going to be the opposite of the one I’d given her.
“It feels like I’ve known him forever,” she sounded a little emotional. “In a good way.”
“I’m really glad you came back with me. Thank you.” I reached for her hand and pulled her off the bed, and we stood there, hugging.
“I kind of want to see this town you love so much,” she said as she pulled away and straightened her shoulders and posture.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Is there any shopping here?” she asked.
I let out an awkward laugh. “We have a few cute shops on Main Street. There’s so much I want to show you, but you’re not allowed to make fun of it,” I said, feeling defensive of my home.
Sugar Mountain was so incredibly small when you compared it to Manhattan, but that was exactly why I loved it so much. And even though Sarina didn’t seem much like our mother, what if she hated it the same way our mother had?
“I won’t make fun of it. I’m excited to see it.” She clapped her hands together, and instantly, my mind shot to little Clarabel, the way it always did.
I wanted to see Clara so bad, but knew that I couldn’t do that to her. She’d be so confused after I left again, and the thought of hurting her didn’t sit right with me. Seeing her would be selfish, for my own happiness and joy and nothing else.
“What are you thinking about?” Sarina interrupted my thoughts.
“Patrick’s niece,” I said softly.
“Oh. I didn’t realize.” She shook her head, and it hit me that I’d probably never brought her up before now. “How old is she?”
I pursed my lips together and glanced upward as I did math in my head. “She’s got to be around eight by now.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met an eight-year-old,” Sarina said, and I barked out a laugh because she legitimately meant it.
“Not a lot of kids running around your upscale social events?” I asked, even though it wasn’t really a question.
“You know there isn’t.”
“Anyway, she’s great. Or at least, she was. I assume she still is.” I was babbling and couldn’t seem to stop. “I’m going to grab a jacket from my room, and then let’s make sure Dad’s okay with us ditching him.”
“Sounds good.”
I walked back into my bedroom and glanced around at what felt like a time capsule of my and Patrick’s years together. There were so many roses hanging upside down on my walls, dried and shriveled up to a fraction of their original size. Leaning closer, I inhaled the fragrance, which still permeated from their petals.
Sliding my closet door open, I grabbed a black puffer jacket and slipped it on, realizing that it was Patrick’s. It still smelled like him, and I buried my nose in the material and breathed him in. I thought about hanging it back up and grabbing one of my own, but decided against it. I’d always loved wearing his clothes, and apparently, old habits died hard.
“Ready?” Sarina appeared, looking way too dressed up for Sugar Mountain in a short little skirt and tights that matched her skin color, but I knew she’d layered for warmth.
She wore them whenever it was cold in New York but still wanted to show off her legs, which was often. I remembered the first time I had seen her wearing a pair, and I completely freaked out, thinking she was going to freeze to death. But she just laughed and got me a pair of my own. Only once I’d worn them did I fully understand that they were as warm as wearing sweatpants, but without the bulk.
“You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb,” I said, wondering who the heck had made up that saying anyway.
“I wasn’t made to blend in.” She twirled, and I shook my head.
Sarina looked amazing, but then again, she always did.
We started bounding down the stairs, and I heard the television playing some sport or another. When we walked into the living room, our dad whistled.
“You girls heading out?” He cocked his head to the side as he studied us.
“I wanted to show Sarina around town.”
“And I want to get some new things for my room, if that’s okay?” she added quickly.
Our dad’s face lit up. “Of course it’s okay. It’s your room. Always will be.” He sounded so proud. “But I’ve got to warn you. You might give the guys in this town a heart attack, looking like that.”
“I tried to tell her that no one dresses like this in the middle of the afternoon here,” I said, waving my hand toward my sister. “Or ever,” I added even though that wasn’t necessarily true.
People got dressed up in Sugar Mountain for all kinds of things—holiday parties, weddings, events, reunions, dates.
“Good. Then, I’ll crush my competition.” She grinned, and my dad and I shot each other a look.
“Competition?” he repeated before I could.
“Yeah. Didn’t Patrick mention having a younger brother?”
My dad let out a laugh so loud that I thought it might shoot him right out of his recliner as he leaned forward, holding his stomach. “Oh, sweet girl. That boy’s hung up on the bartender at the saloon.”
My jaw dropped. “How do you even know that?” I asked, wondering exactly what I’d missed since I’d been away.
“I have ears.” He cupped a hand behind his right ear.
“And?” I pressed because that hadn’t even remotely answered my question.
“And the guys at the shop gossip like high school girls.”
“Now, that makes more sense.” I blew out a breath.
My dad’s auto shop was a mini gossip mill, which I always found entertaining, unless someone I cared about was the topic of said gossip. Then, it wasn’t fun at all.
“What shop? What guys? Are they cute? Rich?” Sarina fired off like our dad was a dating app and she was filling out a questionnaire.
“Dad owns an auto repair shop. He also fixes up and restores old cars. He’s the best mechanic in a hundred miles.” It was my turn to sound proud. “People go out of their way to come to him.”
“Wow.” Sarina sounded impressed.
“Okay, you two, go. I’ll be here.”
My dad wasn’t fond of compliments. They always made him uncomfortable. Unless the person was complimenting me. Then, he seemed to thrive on them.
“You’re sure it’s okay if we leave? We literally just got here,” I asked, suddenly feeling guilty.
“Of course. Go.” He waved us off and pointed at the keys to his truck hanging on the wall. “We can’t sit here for the next three days and stare at each other the whole time.”
“We won’t be gone long.” I tried to sound reassuring, but I had no idea how long we’d be gone for.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Go enjoy yourselves. And, Sarina, try not to break Matthew’s heart. We might start to get a reputation for destroying O’Gradys if you do,” he said with a smile, but the one that had been on my face instantly dropped.
I knew he was only teasing, but the truth apparently stung.