Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Wade
I’m going to have to move.
I stand in the middle of my living room, and all I can think about is Dara.
Not just the moments when she was bent over a piece of furniture or riding me on another but also the way she tucks her legs beneath her while watching movies.
How she gets popcorn bits all over the couch every damn time.
Her preference for the fireplace to be on whenever she sits down because she likes the ambiance.
It’s this way in every fucking room.
The kitchen? I think of the boxes of donuts I’ve come to expect on the counter.
My office? The awe in her eyes at my sketch.
The bathroom? So many lewd, delicious memories that I want to punch the mirrors until they smash against the floor that no longer has strands of her hair on it.
I can’t do this. I can’t live in this space and be surrounded by memories of her.
But will it be easier if I do pack up and go elsewhere? Sadly, I don’t think so. I think she’s burrowed into my soul and will never let go.
I mosey around my house and think of her, grateful her memories aren’t fading away. Dara Alden was the best part of my life. My time with her was the happiest I’ve ever been—happier than I ever thought I could be.
But that’s over now.
Knock! Knock!
Who is here?
I make my way to the foyer and pull open the door. My father is standing on the porch. Fuck. I’m not sure what my face does, but he laughs.
“I know that I’m not too pretty anymore, but you could at least act like you’re happy to see me,” he says.
“Sorry. Come in.”
He nods and steps inside.
I close the door.
“What’s going on?” I ask, heaving a breath. Out of all the people I want to talk to today, he’s … not on the list at all. I’d rather talk to Boone’s dumb ass than my father.
I’m not sure why I feel the way I do about him. A psychologist could have a field day with it, I’m sure. It probably has something to do with Dad seeing me at my worst—facedown in the World History section of the Georgia Tech library. I don’t love that about our relationship.
Thankful that he came? Sure. Enjoy thinking that he knows that? Not so much.
“Oh, I was in the neighborhood,” he says, sitting on the sofa.
I want to stop him, to ask him to use another piece of furniture because that cushion still smells faintly like coconuts. But just before I do that, I realize how fucking stupid that is.
Before long, everyone will stop smelling like her.
My stomach knots, and I reach for my phone.
“Interesting that you found a reason to be in this area,” I say, typing out a text.
Me: How are you?
I hold the phone in my hand.
“Well, we both know I’m lying so let’s cut the shit, huh?” he asks.
“Sounds like a plan.”
He crosses one leg on the other knee. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on, or should I tell you what I heard instead?”
I glare at him. “I don’t give a shit what you heard, and no, I don’t want to talk to you.”
Dara: I’m good. Thank you for asking. Hope you are well too.
Hope I am well too? What?
I don’t know why I keep texting her. I mean, I do—I need to know she’s okay. But every time I get a response, it reminds me of the status of our relationship.
And I fucking hate it.
I hate the disconnect. I loathe feeling like she thinks I don’t care.
But am I supposed to care since I basically broke things off with her?
I don’t know. I know I can’t stop caring about her.
I know I’m so fucking fucked.
“That’s fine,” Dad says, making me jump. I forgot he was here. “Don’t talk then. Just listen.”
I look at him with the blankest stare I can muster. “I’m not in a listening mood, Father.”
His foot hits the floor. He leans forward and pierces me with a gaze I haven’t seen in a while.
The old man still has it.
“If you’re feeling froggy today, go visit another one of your offspring,” I say. “Boone always has time to waste on his hands.”
“Okay. We can do this the hard way.”
I sigh.
“I know what happened with Dara.”
“Do you now?”
He nods. “I know she had an accident and that you broke things off with her.”
“Let’s just drive that pain home.”
“I also know that your brothers canceled a massive project with Bowery Hotels because of it.”
If he wants to fight, he picked a damn good day.
My jaw clenches.
“And I told them good fucking job,” he says.
The tension in my face eases.
“Curt Bowery is a sonofabitch and always has been. If he can treat his granddaughter this way, we should want no part of it,” he says.
Okay. Didn’t see that coming.
“Glad you agree,” I say.
“But that’s really the least of my concerns right now. I know Holt and Ollie are going to do the right thing.”
Fair enough.
“What I’m worried about is you, Wade.”
“I’m fine.”
“But are you, though?”
I roll my eyes and turn my back to him.
Me: I’m miserable.
Before I can send it to Dara, I delete it.
I stare at her name and feel my heart bleed. How can it possibly feel like I’ve lost a part of my soul?
I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t even escape with work. All I can do is pace around like a deranged chicken and worry myself to death about Dara.
It wasn’t this bad with Morgan. It was a whole different kind of hurt and confusion. Now, losing Dara, I can barely breathe sometimes, and there’s no end in sight.
It’s not getting easier. I’m not making new memories to pile on top of the ones with her, thereby making it more survivable.
She’s still there. On top. Waiting to remind me of what we had.
“What’s your justification?” he asks. “How do you think this is okay?”
“Simple. There is no justification. Just facts.”
“Humor me.”
I sit on the chaise and sigh. “You know about Morgan. I’m two for two. I’ve loved two women, and I’ve let them both get hurt.”
“I’ve loved one, and I hurt her.”
“Because …” I shake my head and stop myself. “I’m not going there. Not today.”
Dad gets to his feet. “If you’re going to pull the you’re trying to protect her card, that’s fine. I get it. I respect it.” He narrows his eyes. “But only if you also pull the other one.”
“Which is …?”
“You have to see that you’re protecting yourself too.”
I stand too in order to equal the playing field. “This isn’t about me.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
“What do you want me to do, Dad? Take her by the hand and watch her get pummeled by life and know that I didn’t do something to stop it?”
“I’m sure she would appreciate someone holding her hand because life is going to pummel her anyway, Wade.”
We stare at each other, our voices rising.
“You’re scared,” he says. “You’re terrified out of your mind. I’m not judging you. But I want you to see that you’re knee-jerking your reaction to the love of your fucking life out of fear.”
I sigh. I can’t argue that.
“Look,” he says, exhaling. “I’ve told you this before.
You’re a lot like your old man. We excel at everything we do.
We’re smart. Headstrong. We can see what needs to be done, and we do it.
” He leans closer. “But when things don’t go our way, we run.
We don’t know how to handle asking for help when we need it because we never fucking need it. ”
He pauses, letting that soak in.
My chest rises and falls rapidly. My mind spins. Why the hell is he doing this now?
“You think we’re different because I turned to alcohol, and you turned to this life of loneliness. It’s the same thing, Wade. Mine just killed my liver, and yours is killing your soul. We both nearly lost our families because of it.”
Our families.
That’s the problem. That’s it in a nutshell.
Dara was my family.
I didn’t realize it until now. I didn’t realize that when I felt like she had worked her way into my psyche, she had really made her way into my family. Our family. That somehow, she had decided I was good enough to build a future with.
She picked me. And I chose her.
I gave Dara a reason to believe she could count on me, and I’d be there for her. But then I wasn’t.
“You’re not a dumb kid anymore,” Dad says. “And at some point, you have to stop faulting yourself for the dumb kid shit you did back in the day.”
I bow my head.
“You’re an outstanding architect. Wildly successful. Brilliant, really. So it’s time to start acting like that and stop punishing yourself for the choices that nineteen-year-old Wade made. You’re not him anymore. Let it go.”
It sounds so easy when he says it like that. “I don’t deserve a second chance, Dad. Hell, Dara was my second chance—”
“Bullshit, Wade.”
“But—”
“Bull. Shit. I got lucky. Your mother is giving me another chance after I did my best to fuck our life up.” He grins softly. “I think Dara will give you another chance if you haul your ass over there and explain yourself.”
“What if something happens to her? What if I can’t stop it?”
“You can’t always stop it. Life happens. You know that.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “But when shit gets hard, you gotta ask for help. When you felt yourself spiraling like this, you should’ve called me. Or Holt. Or Oliver. Probably not Coy. Definitely not Boone.”
We exchange a grin.
“You put too much pressure on yourself,” he says. “And she’s paying the price for that.”
I cringe. I hate the sound of that.
I hate the truth of it more.
“It’s not just about having people in your life. It’s about … being honest with them and being honest with yourself. It’s the one thing you haven’t learned in all your wizardry, as Oliver says.” Dad smiles.
I smile too. Because there’s some sense in those words that I need to ponder. There’s some wisdom there that I need to consider.
But first, I need to be honest with myself, I think.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
He pulls me into a hug that I could do without and then leaves without another word.