Chapter 9
Brooks
“Emryn, my dad’s here,” I yell up the stairs.
I can see my dad’s truck winding up our long driveway out the front window. Avery is in the living room, playing with her dolls. Today has been better, but she’s still not the normal, spunky girl we’re used to.
I’ve thought about Grayson’s advice since that day we tried on the tuxes.
I can’t stop thinking about the times when I’ve been angry with God—and there has been a lot in my lifetime—yet now, in my moment of peace, I can look back and see that he never left me. Sometimes, it takes getting over that chasm to look back and see how you crossed it. And even though Avery is too young for that kind of self-reflection right now, I think one day, this moment of anger will be one she looks back on—but only if Emryn and I help guide that anger to a safe place.
Footsteps bound down the steps, and I turn just in time to see Emryn jump off the bottom step onto the floor.
Reaching out, I grab onto her waist and pull her to me.
“What do you tell Avery about jumping down the steps?” I ask, hiding my smirk behind a stern glare.
Emryn purses her lips and pretends to think, “I can’t recall what you’re talking about at the moment.”
She gives me a sassy grin, and I roll my eyes. “Mm-hmm. Sure, you can’t. It’s a good thing she didn’t see you. Otherwise, you’d be in for a world of scoldings.”
“Then it’s a good thing it’s our secret,” she says, pecking my lips and stepping out of my grasp.
My hands itch to pull her back to me and remind her what a proper kiss should feel like, but two things stop me. One, there’s a knock at the door, and two, Avery is in the next room.
I would hate to gross her out.
Okay, maybe I don’t care so much about that last one.
I want Avery to know what it looks like when a man loves her, and I’m determined to show her that by loving her mom to the best of my ability.
Avery looks up from her dolls as Emryn walks over to the front door and lets my dad in, but when she sees it’s him, she goes back to her toys, ignoring him.
A crushing weight sits on my chest. Avery loves my dad, and I can’t ever remember a time when she didn’t rush him as soon as he stepped through the door.
This is worse than I thought.
“Avery,” I call her name, keeping the emotions from my voice. “Papaw Kip is here. He’s going to stay with you for a little while so your mom and I can go on a date.”
She ignores me, pointing her nose up in the air and intentionally closing her ears.
“Avery Marie,” I say, the words a little more pointed this time. I understand she’s angry and hurting, but it doesn’t give her the right to act like this. She still has to respect us as her parents.
Again, she tilts her nose higher and tightens her hands over her ears.
Frustration bubbles under my skin. I step toward her, but a soft hand lands on my arm.
Emryn stands beside me, sadness coloring her eyes. She swallows, staring at Avery and then looking at me. “You have to calm down.”
I scoff, irritation itching at my skin. “Are you saying I should let her act that way?”
My wife shakes her head, blonde curls tumbling around her shoulders. “No. I’m not saying that. She needs to know that this behavior isn’t acceptable, but you’re going in agitated. And that’s only going to escalate for both of you. So take a deep breath, and then go over there. I’ll be right behind you.”
With a jerk of my head, I do as she asks, taking a deep breath. She’s right—anger breeds anger—and Avery has enough of her own right now.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my dad standing at the door, wringing his hands. Avery is the one person he changed for. When she was born, I told him if he didn’t stop drinking, he wouldn’t be a part of her life. He did it for her, and I know this has to be hurting him. Right now, he looks a little haggard. His gray hair is mussed, looking like he’s run his hand through it a million times, and dark bags sit under his eyes. He catches me looking at him and quickly turns his head, but not before I see the tears gleaming in his eyes.
“I’ll be—I left something in my truck,” he says, rushing back out the door.
And after that, it takes another two breaths until I’m finally ready. When I walk toward Avery this time, I keep my shoulders lowered and my breaths even.
Emryn slips her hand in mine, and we approach our daughter, taking on this challenge in her life as a team.
“Avery,” I say as we approach. “Please put the dolls down and stand up here.”
“No.”
The word is like a lash against my skin. In a matter of weeks, my sweet, innocent daughter has disappeared, and in her place is a ball of anger.
“Avery,” Emryn tries, “your dad asked you to do something, and you don’t get to tell us no. You can either put the dolls down and talk to us, or we can take them. You won’t get them back for a while if we do that.”
Our daughter’s lip pokes out, pouting, but she puts the dolls down.
It’s progress, at least.
Scooping her up in my arms, I hug her close to me. Her body trembles against me, and I squeeze tighter, wishing that my love was enough to fix things for her. “Bug, we need to talk. Do you think you can listen? You don’t have to say anything—just listen, okay?”
Her body stiffens. “No.”
“Bug, no isn’t an option,” Emryn says, smoothing her hand over her back. “We know you’re angry, and it’s okay to be. But we also have to know what to do with those emotions—and ignoring us and saying no when we ask something of you is not how we deal with them.”
Avery kicks against me, banging her fist against my back, and screams. “Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.”
I set her down like she asks, but I hold her fist between my hands, not letting her hit me. “Avery, you can’t hit.”
“I don’t want to talk to you. I hate you.” She kicks at me again, catching me in the shin.
Frustration bubbles over—not at her, but at myself for being unable to help her. And even though I try to keep that frustration contained, it slips through the cracks anyway. Scooping her up again, I carry her across the living room and up the stairs. “Avery, I love you, but you don’t get to act this way. You’re going to go to your room and think about what you’ve done.”
Sharp pain slices through my ribs. No one tells you that disciplining your kids is the hardest part of raising them. This is the first time I’ve ever had to really discipline her, and it stings more than I expected.
Avery sobs in my arms, and I want to cry with her.
I feel helpless.
Depositing her on her bed, I squat down so I am on her level. “Baby, I love you so much, but you can’t act this way. You have to talk to us, or it will only get worse. I’ll be back in five minutes, and then I want to talk.”
I drop a kiss on her head and then stand, leaving the room. My feet are like lead weights with each step I take, leaving her behind.
Emryn waits for me outside the door, her lip tucked between her teeth and her arms crossed over her chest.
“Do you really think that was the best way to handle this situation?” she asks.
Scrubbing my hand over the scruff on my jaw, I say, “I don’t know, Emryn, but we can’t let her act like that—angry or not.”
She nods, her teeth digging deeper into her lip.
“Look,” I sigh, “We both know there’s no manual to this parenting thing. Maybe it’s not the right way, and I guess we will learn that soon enough. But right now, it’s all I have. If it doesn’t work, we try something else. Okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice is a broken whisper. This hurts her just as much as it does me.
Reaching out, I pull her to me, tucking her head under my chin, and we stand like that for the next five minutes, listening to our daughter yell and scream. And with each minute that passes, a piece of my heart breaks.
______________________
“Do you think Avery is okay?” Emryn asks from beside me in my truck.
My hand finds her knee, and I rub my thumb over the smooth skin, watching as goosebumps pebble it.
After Avery’s five minutes were up, Emryn and I went into the room to talk to her. We made sure that she knew how much we both loved her, but her attitude lately isn’t acceptable. She didn’t yell and scream and hit like she did before, but she was still morose when we left.
Emryn was hesitant about continuing our night, but I told her we needed it. Since Emryn moved back home, we’ve made sure to work out at least one night a month where it’s just us—even if it’s just a meal at home. Tonight, though, I’ve planned something else—something she doesn’t know about.
“I think she’s fine. My dad is there with her. If he needs us, he will call.”
She takes a shuttering breath. “Maybe we should take her to therapy. It might not hurt her to see a professional.”
“No.” It comes out sharper than I mean it to, but my answer is still the same, even if I meant to say it softer.
Emryn bristles, pulling her leg from under my hand and straightening her spine. She turns her shoulders to face me, and even out of the corner of my eye, I can see her disdain in the purses of her lips. “And why not? We went to therapy. I think you would be able to see the merits in it now.”
“That’s different.” The words are like gravel in my throat, making my voice deep and raspy.
“How?”
I sigh, not wanting to fight. “Because it means we’ve failed her. We should be able to take care of this at home. She’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”
“And what if we don’t?” Emryn asks.
“We will.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Slamming my hand against the steering wheel, I lose the restraint I’ve barely been holding onto since my daughter told me she hated me. “I don’t know, Emryn. I don’t know.”
The words crack through the silence of my truck, and Emryn’s head rears back. Hurt lacing through her eyes.
I regret it immediately.
“Hey,” I say, lowering my voice and reaching out. I grab her fingers, but she pulls them out of my grip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost it like that. I just—I don’t want to fail her.”
Since the day I found out I was going to be a dad, I’ve worried about failing my daughter. Although my dad is around now, he wasn’t growing up, and I never wanted Avery to feel what I felt. But until this moment, I hadn’t realized how much this situation felt like I was failing her.
Emryn’s face smooths out, and she lowers her shoulders. “Brooks, failing her would mean you don’t get her the help she deserves. It doesn’t make us a failure to admit that we are out of our league here.”
All my nerves are on edge, scraping against my emotions and leaving me raw and wounded.
“Can we just put a pin in this conversation? I promise we can talk about it later. I see your point, but I need some time, okay?”
Emryn nods, running her hand along my jaw. “Okay.”
We sit in silence for the rest of the drive. Unlike the silence that surrounded us a year ago, it’s not uncomfortable, but it does leave me too much time to think—to get lost in my mind—a place I would desperately like to escape right now.
So when we pull into the studio, I sigh a breath of relief.
Emryn turns to me, confusion marring her face. “What are we doing here?”
We are one town over, sitting in the parking lot of a dance studio—a place of my nightmares—but for Emryn, it will be a dream come true.
Lifting my lips to one side, I offer her a cheeky grin. “We’re going to take dance lessons before the ceremony since, the last time we got married, you accused me of having two left feet.”
A giggle, light and airy, parts Emryn’s lips. She tilts her head back, laughing, and my eyes follow the line of her neck.
“Beautiful,” I breathe, unable to take my eyes off her.
Her laugh dies off, and her eyes find mine. There’s heat there but mischief, too.
“I don’t know,” she smirks, “you’re pretty good at dancing in the kitchen.”