Chapter Three
Tessa left work early to prepare for the gala. There was too much at stake for her to properly concentrate, and she didn’t like knowing the men in her office were out palling around while everyone else was hard at work. When they hadn’t returned by three thirty, she called it a day as well.
The previous night’s rain was still on her mind, too, but she shoved all thoughts of it aside.
Leaving the office before five meant avoiding small-town gridlock, and in turn, arriving home in record time. She considered both a major win.
Her semi-improved mood dropped when her dad’s name and number appeared on her phone screen for the second time that day.
She’d completely forgotten his earlier call, and a second call seemed ominous.
They usually spoke at night before bed. Two calls in one day, both before the sun set, sent up a warning flag. Something had to be wrong.
She quickly answered the call. “Hi, Dad,” she said, letting herself into her apartment. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is great,” he said, setting her heart and mind at ease.
“I’m glad.” She felt lighter, as she always did when walking through her door. Tessa’s dream apartment cost more than she could afford, but what she could afford didn’t have river views like this place.
Being a single, child-free career woman often had its perks. She could spend her money how and when she wanted. One day she planned to travel too. She’d be completely spontaneous when her workdays weren’t so long.
“It’s good to hear your voice,” he said. “How was your day?”
“Good.” She unloaded her things onto her kitchen island. “How was yours?” She moved through the open space toward the abundance of windows. Her collection of plants appreciated the natural light almost as much as she did.
An airy cream-on-tan color scheme, from carpets and furniture to walls and throw blankets, made the space clean and inviting. The puffy peach-and-sage-green pillows beckoned her to sit down and stay awhile. To release whatever remaining stress her body held and give over to peace.
Hallie called her decorating style boho chic. Tessa thrifted books and art and found handmade treasures at flea markets and estate sales, but she chose carefully and maintained her nature-centric color palette and favored organic materials like wood, twine, and brass.
This was her happy place.
She sat on the couch and put her feet up beside her. “I have a gala to attend later tonight. I’m glad we get to talk early. Why do we get to talk early?” she asked. “You’re not at work today?”
A small pause preceded his answer. “Nah. Day off,” he said.
She fought the urge to gush about the night’s gala or rant about the boys’ club who got away with putting in only half the hours she did.
The latter was pointless, and the former could accidentally jinx her.
Instead, she homed in on the fact that her dad had taken a day off.
He never did that. She’d inherited her height, brown eyes, and die-hard work ethic directly from him. “Why did you take the day off?”
“I had an appointment,” he said. “Nothing important. Annual physical, that’s all. I’m calling because I miss my little girl. You’ve been working so many weekends, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”
She let the tension in her shoulders ease, thankful there wasn’t anything to worry about. “I’ll come to visit again as soon as I can.”
“I hoped you’d say that,” he said. His tone shifted slightly, and her concern returned.
“Did you have something in mind?”
He chuckled, and the sound should’ve warmed her. Her instincts, however, told her something bigger was going on. “How about I make dinner soon?” he suggested. “You can stop by and spend a little time.”
Tessa sat taller, swinging her feet back onto the floor. “Okay. That sounds nice.”
“Excellent,” he said.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Is there something else going on?” Something about the entire call didn’t sit right, as if he held a bomb she couldn’t see, waiting for the right time to drop it.
She willed him not to be sick. He had high cholesterol and took blood pressure medication. He was sixty-two and still working a factory job. She couldn’t lose another parent. Not for at least another hundred years or more. “You would tell me if something was wrong, right?”
“Of course. No, nothing’s wrong,” he responded quickly, emphatically. “Things are going very well. In fact—”
Her breath caught. She imagined him releasing the bomb.
“Devin’s home. He showed up last night, and I think it would be nice to get the family back together again. We’ve spent the whole day talking, and I want to share a meal with you both like old times. We can all catch up on everything we’ve missed in one another’s lives.”
Tessa’s jaw clenched. There it was.
Boom! She thought. Pow!
Her stepbrother, Devin, had returned, and historically that was not good news.
He had a kind, tender heart, and a lifetime of emotional trauma he’d never dealt with, so it pulled him under like quicksand over and over.
He’d fallen into a routine these last few years of disappearing, wallowing in unresolved misery, inflicting more damage on himself, his health, his credit, whatever, then returning home to lick his wounds when he realized he couldn’t go on that way.
He never did the work to process his pain and heal.
He only took breaks, let their dad hope for a different outcome, then left them in a whirlwind of chaos, wherein Tessa would spend weeks helping their dad through the loss.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
“Tess?” her dad asked. “You still there?”
“Yeah, Dad. I’m still here.” She was always there. She was steadfast, because Devin wasn’t.
“You’ll come to dinner this week?” he asked. “You can pick the day.”
“I’ll check my calendar and let you know,” she said.
“Did Devin mention how long he’s staying?
” With a little luck, her brother would disappear before she had a free evening.
Then she could avoid seeing him without being the woman who refused to see her troubled brother. The situation was just so—shit.
“Uhh,” her dad drew out the little sound for several beats.
Tessa’s stomach knotted and ached. “Dad?”
“That’s the thing,” he said. “Devin lost his job in Albuquerque, so he’s sticking around here until he can get his feet under him again.”
She covered her mouth with one hand, processing the words, predicting the inevitable pain.
Their dad wasn’t the only one Devin hurt when he took off.
Knowing he was out there without a support system.
Drinking, using drugs. Experiencing homelessness and food insecurity when he lost his job or ran out of money.
She hated it, and it would’ve broken her years ago, if she didn’t have their dad to think about.
Devin’s mom died a few years after their parents married. He was only twelve, Tessa sixteen. Devin had spiraled, like a freight train in a tornado, and it had unraveled what was left of their family.
It’d taken her years of therapy to work through how she’d felt both relieved to go away to college and escape the cycle of heartbreak and chaos, and also incredibly guilty for leaving her dad to manage it all on his own.
Two things can be true at once, she reminded herself. Those words had gotten her through the toughest years. She could love Devin but hate the way he lived. She could want to please her dad but be angry with him for asking her to pretend everything was fine.
Her eyes misted with frustration tears. This was her night to be happy. Old, unhealthy family habits couldn’t ruin it for her. Devin’s issues would be there tomorrow when she had the bandwidth to deal with them.
“You know what,” Tessa said abruptly. “I am so sorry to do this, but work is calling, and I have to answer, but I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow, okay?”
“Oh, I guess so, but honey—”
“I love you, Dad. I hope you have a wonderful evening. Talk soon!”
Tessa disconnected the call and checked the time. She’d let herself cry for ten minutes in the shower. After that, she had to get back on track.