Chapter 63
Chapter sixty-three
Hendrix · Now
Perfect – Simple Plan
My engine idles as I stare out of the car window.
The house is exactly the way I remember it. Netted blinds in the downstairs windows, brown and cream sprawling bricks, ugly red door. Even the cracked number eight plate still hangs upside down.
It’s been ten years since I last stepped foot inside. Ten years since I saw my parents. And ten years since I let my dad’s hateful narrative dictate the trajectory of my life.
I draw in a slow breath and peel my fingers from the steering wheel. The second I woke up this morning after a fitful couple hours of sleep, I knew what I had to do.
The only way I can move forward with Cole and be the woman he deserves is if I face the girl I was and the choices I made—and they all start here, inside those four walls.
I kill the engine, and step out of the car on shaky legs.
Wind whips my hair. I shove my hands in the pocket of Cole’s hoodie and inhale his scent.
I almost asked him to come with me, but I know I have to do at least this first bit alone. Then, I can tell him everything.
Here’s hoping he’ll still look at me the same when I’m done.
I force myself up the garden path and rap my knuckles twice on the door.
Rocking back on my heels, I glance over the still windows as the sound of cars passing on the road rumbles behind me. It’s funny, really. I moved back to Chesterton seven years ago, but not once have I trawled this street.
The day I left this house, I let my parents disappear.
They never tried to reach out to me that I know of. Not that I’d have answered if they had. The decision to go no contact was as easy as breathing. I've never once regretted the decision.
The door creaks open.
I hold my breath, muscles tightening as a woman pokes head around the frame. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Hi.” A frown tugs at my lips as my gaze drags over her shoulder. “I was looking for Nicola or Frank Moore. I didn’t realise they moved.”
“Oh.” The woman steps back, pulling the door wider.
I glance down her light blue nursing uniform and step back. “Sorry. I’ll just get out your hair.”
“No, you’re fine. I don’t know who Nicola is, but Frank still lives here.”
My frown deepens. “Nicola’s his wife.”
The woman shakes her head, greying brown hair falling into her face. “He doesn’t have a wife, hon.”
“Oh.” My gut knots, my heart thudding against my chest. But that means… “I’m sorry, who are you? His girlfriend?”
A light laugh cuts through the blood rushing through my ears. “No. He doesn’t have one of them either, at least not one that’s shown up in the six months.”
“Right. Sorry, erm,” I clear my throat. “It’s just, I’m really confused. Who are you?”
She steps over the threshold and lingers on the top step. “I’m one of the community nurses.”
“And he needs that?”
She tilts her head. “Who are you?”
I weave my fingers together in the pocket and brush my thumb over the inked microphone. “I’m his daughter. Hendrix.”
Her mouth drops open.
A long, silent moment passes.
She snaps it shut, and steps back into the house, gesturing for me to come inside. “I didn’t know he had a daughter.”
“We haven’t spoken in a long time,” I explain.
She says nothing as she guides me through the house. Same magnolia walls, same oak furnishings in the hallway. She bypasses the lounge, straight into the kitchen, and stops at the dining room door. A trainer taps on the floor, once, then twice before she turns to me.
“I’m really sorry,” she says as she curls a hand around the handle and pushes.
The door releases with a click.
The sharp scent of antiseptic rushes my nose as it swings open. I hold my breath, a muscle jumping in my jaw. A bed sits in the centre of the room, replacing the old mahogany dining table I remember. Wires trail along the floor, disappearing under the bed.
A bedside table holds half-empty bottles of medication, tissues, and a clear jug of water. Soft blankets cover his still, ashen frame. The floor creaks as I inch forward.
“What’s wrong with him?” My voice barely breaks the quiet.
The nurse exhales behind me. “Advanced liver disease.”
I blink, a breath catching in my throat. “How long does he have?”
“At best, two months.”
I tilt my head, staring at the man in the bed.
He looks small where he was once terrifying.
“Is he lucid?”
“Sometimes,” she says. She steps beside me, resting a hand lightly on my shoulder. “Not as much anymore. But he’s comfortable. No pain. That’s what matters now.”
I nod. I glance over the sparse room. “You said he doesn’t have a wife?”
There used to be flowers, and cherry-scented air. Broken glass too, screams and shouts. To the outside it was a perfect home, the interior told a different story.
I sigh.
A part of me wonders where she’s gone and if she’s finally happy with her life. A larger part of me knows that it’s not my business.
“No.” She shakes her head. “No wife. No family listed. We didn’t know he had one.”
“I suppose he doesn’t anymore.” Bile crawls up my throat and I choke it down, tugging my tongue stud between my teeth. “I just wanted to talk to him, but it’s not happening, so.”
I lift a shoulder and start to turn when her voice stops me.
“You can still talk to him. He seems to know what’s going on when he wakes up.” She steps back toward the door. “I’ll give you some time. Just press the button on the side of the bed if you need anything.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She gives me a soft smile as she tugs the door open.
A machine beeps.
I step deeper into the room and perch on the chair tucked beside his bed. “Hey, Dad.”
No answer. His eyes are closed, his chest rising heavily as the mask covering his face does the work of breathing for him. I tap my fingers on the white bed railing and try to find words. What the hell is there to say now?
I came back for closure. Not this.
A bitter laugh crawls up my throat.
“You were supposed to tell me you were right.” I tip my head back, staring at the glowing light in the ceiling. “To prove that everything you said was true. That your life was truly better without me in it.”
I blink as hot, stinging tears prick my eyelids, my gaze drawing to my wrist.
“I left him, you know.” My voice cracks. “I stopped playing my guitar. I stopped writing songs. I became a mixing engineer instead.” I laugh dryly. “Couldn’t quite rid the music from inside of me, no matter how hard I tried. I did everything you told me to. And where did it get us, Dad?”
I lean forward on the chair, thread my fingers together, and plant my wrists on the railing.
“I walked away from the love of my life all because my daddy told me to. How fucking embarrassing of me.” Nausea rips at my stomach and I bite my tongue. “And the worst part? I can’t even blame you. I made the choice. I’m the one who ripped his heart out and stomped on it.”
I choke down a bitter laugh.
“You want to know what’s really funny? You were right about one thing. He would have given it all up for me. Ask me how I know.”
Of course, there’s no answer. “Because I gave it all up for him.”
My lips twist bitterly. “And here’s the kicker…
he got everything you said he couldn’t. He has the music, a beautiful family, and a life filled with love.
” A tear spills over my lashes. “The only thing he doesn’t have is me.
” I swipe the bead away as my heart shatters.
“And now I have to go tell him that I threw away ten years of us for absolutely nothing.”
I push back the chair, stand, and tap my knuckles on the bed rail once. “Maybe you’ll get to say I told you so after all. Because how will he not resent me after all of this?”
My shoulders feel a breath lighter as I step out of the room.
I find my dad’s nurse in the kitchen, her hands buried in a sink full of soapy, steamy water. She cranes her head at the sound of my footsteps. “Is everything okay?”
I bob my head, exhaling a breath. “He’s still out of it.”
“I’m really sorry you had to learn this way.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Thank you for letting me in.”
“Anytime.” She smiles, then her lips twist. “Oh, there was a young man here a little while ago. He was asking for you.”
My brows furrow. “For me? Did he give his name?”
“No.” She shakes her head, pulls her hands free, and swipes them on a tea towel. “He looked oddly familiar though. Tattoos everywhere.”
My heart falls to the floor. I have a really good feeling about who she’s talking about. I just hope I’m wrong. “Tall, handsome, dark hair?”
“All of the above.” Her smile widens as she arches a brow. My chest thunders. “If that’s your man, you’re a very lucky woman.”
“Yeah.” Tell me something I don’t know. I scrub my wrist over my heart. “When did he leave?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
My throat dries. “Did he say where he was going?”
“No, sorry, hon.”
I start for the door on shaky feet. “Well, thanks anyway. I got what I needed here, so I’ll leave you to it.”
“Of course. Can we expect you again?”
“No, I don't think so.”
“I understand. It can’t be nice coming home to this.”
I shake my head, gaze tracing the ink on my wrist.
This isn’t my home.
It hasn’t been since the day I walked into that form room sixteen years ago and met a boy called Cole Hayes.