Chapter 39 Genevieve
Genevieve
Every version of my father I’d had to bury inside me just to survive, it all came rushing back the second I saw him awake.
He blinked slowly, like he wasn’t sure if I was real.
And honestly? I wasn’t sure either.
Two years.
Two years of silence, two years of wondering if he was even alive, two years of holidays without his name mentioned or birthdays where I stared at my phone and pretended it didn’t matter that he never called.
No explanations. No apologies. Just… absence.
And now—this. A cold hospital room, machines humming softly in the background. His eyes finally open, bloodshot and tired, but open. His hand twitching weakly in mine.
I couldn’t breathe.
My feet were planted but my heart felt like it was pacing the room, slamming into every wall inside my chest. I thought of all the ways I’d imagined this moment—if it would even happen. Would I scream? Cry? Walk out the second I saw him?
Instead, I stood there frozen. A thousand words caught in my throat sharp as glass. All the hurt I’d buried all the questions I had trained myself not to ask. All the versions of him I’d had to let die inside me just to survive.
They were here now, sitting between us like ghosts.
“Hi,” I said, because it was the only word that didn’t burn on the way out.
His lips curled into the faintest broken smile.
“You look just like your mom when you’re mad.”
That nearly shattered me.
I laughed, a short shaky waterlogged sound. “I’m not mad,” I whispered, even though a small part of me still was. A part of me that remembered the screaming matches. The slurred voicemails. The quiet from the other end of the phone line that lasted months.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” he said, his voice rough like sandpaper. “But Gen… I’m clean.”
My breath caught mid-inhale.
“I went to rehab,” he went on. “Stayed the whole time, did everything they told me to, I’ve been clean for over two years now.”
Tears blurred the edges of my vision.
“I wanted to call you, every day I wanted to call you. But I, I didn’t want to say it until I knew I could mean it. You didn’t deserve to have a father who was just trying. You deserved a father who was doing.”
My throat tightened. My grip on his hand tightened too.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything, for leaving you with the weight of my mistakes, for disappearing. For letting you believe I didn’t care.”
He looked away, his jaw trembling before he smiled again—soft and sad. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I want to be in your life again. However you’ll let me. Even just a little.”
I couldn’t speak. My voice had vanished.
“And one day,” he added, looking down, “I want to try to win your mom back. Even if it takes the rest of my life.”
That’s when I finally exhaled the breath I’d been holding since I was sixteen.
The one I didn’t realize I’d been carrying in my lungs like guilt, like grief.
I didn’t say anything, I just held his hand tighter.
Maybe forgiveness didn’t have to come with a grand gesture or some cinematic speech. Maybe it started here, quietly. In a sterile hospital room where the past still lingered, but hope was finally flickering in the corner of the room like light through a crack in the wall.
Maybe this was healing.
Maybe it was me.
And if he could change, if the man who broke everything could find his way back to himself, maybe Aspen could, too.
Maybe love doesn’t mean you’re perfect, maybe it just means you keep choosing to come back.
***
I spend the night at Adam’s house, and the guest room is already set up for me. Fresh sheets, a candle flickering on the nightstand, even a glass of water beside the bed. It’s so perfectly put together that it almost feels like he knew I’d show up today.
Unless… this room always looks like this.
Knowing Adam, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Still, something about the care in every small detail, the fluffed pillows, the folded blanket at the foot of the bed, makes my throat tighten. Like he was waiting for me to come home before I even decided to.
With how close I am to my two brothers, I’m disappointed in myself.
Disappointed that I’ve let this much time pass without showing up for them.
They’ve built lives here in California, entire routines and friendships and inside jokes I’m not part of.
I don’t know what their day-to-day looks like anymore.
I don’t even know what their favorite foods are these days. And that realization? It stings.
A soft knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Come in,” I call.
Adam peeks in, his voice gentle. “Hey, just checking in to make sure you have everything. There are clean towels in the bathroom.”
“Thank you,” I say, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
He nods, about to close the door, and I speak again. “No, thank you, for everything. For bringing me down here and making me face my past. I think it was good for me… and I wouldn’t have known that if it weren’t for you and Cole.”
“Oh,” he says, a little caught off guard. “It’s no problem, you know I always have your best interest at heart.”
“I know,” I whisper. “And thank you for that. I’m sorry I don’t come around more.”
His eyes soften. “Don’t worry about that, we’re all busy living our lives. What matters is that you’re here now.”
He hesitates for a second, scratching the back of his neck.
“But hey… I actually have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. I’ve been waiting to tell you in person, and, well… now feels right.”
“What’s up?” I ask.
He takes a breath. “I’m gay.”
There’s a beat of silence. Not because I’m shocked, but because I feel something crack wide open in my chest. Not in a bad way, in a way that says I see you, because really, I was right all along.
“I know,” I say softly, smiling.
His eyes widen a little. “How?”
“Adam, come on, when we were little, you used to do my hair and let me put makeup on you. Cole wouldn’t have been caught dead doing that. And… remember the night I caught Dad? I stopped by your place first, and you were there, with a guy. It felt like more than just two friends hanging out.”
He blinks, then lets out a breathy laugh. “You really clocked me, huh?”
“I just wanted you to tell me on your own time,” I say.
He chuckles, rubbing a hand over his face. “Well… I appreciate that. I guess I made it pretty obvious though.”
“Maybe,” I tease. “But it still means something that you chose to tell me. I’m honored.”
I pull him into a hug, and to my surprise, I feel a tear land on my shoulder, just one. But it says everything, I give him a final squeeze and hold onto his arms for a second longer, just to take in the moment. His face is a little wet, his smile small but real.
“Good night, lil sis,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. “Sweet dreams.”
“Good night,” I reply, heart full.
As if on cue, my phone buzzes. Lana.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey,” she says. “How’s your dad?”
“Good. I think we’re both going to be alright.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” There’s a pause, and then: “You still need to be picked up tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, please. You’re the best.”
“I’ll do it,” she says, “but on one condition.”
“Uh oh.”
“You actually go to class tomorrow.”
I freeze, she’s not wrong, I’ve been physically here but not really here, not in my classes, not in my routine. I’ve been in limbo, lost.
“You’re at school, Gen,” she says gently. “But you’re not doing school. I know it’s hard and I know it’s not your favorite thing in the world, but just try, for me. Mostly for yourself.”
Damn. Way to hit home, Lana.
“I don’t mean to overstep,” she adds. “I just care.”
I sit there in the quiet for a moment, her words settling into me like warmth after cold.
“You’re right,” I say. “Tomorrow I’ll go. I’ll see what I can do to catch up. Thank you for not letting me disappear, even when I wanted to. I think I’m ready to show up now, for me.”
And for the first time, I mean it. I want to try.
“Good. I love you. See you tomorrow.”
“Love you too,” I say, and hang up.
Who knew a single day in California could change so much?
I reconnected with my dad. My brother came out to me. I felt something real with my family again—something I didn’t realize I missed until it came rushing back in.
And Aspen… I have a new outlook on him too. I believe he can change, I think he’s trying to.
But before I message him, I have to show up for myself. I need to prove that I can stand on my own two feet again, that I haven’t given up. Not just for Aspen, for me.
Tomorrow I won’t just go through the motions, I’ll show up for myself first, and everything else will follow.
Tomorrow, Genevieve Brown is going to school.
And this time, she’s going for real.