Grace
It almost feels like a horrible dream or an out of body experience. But when my feet hit the dirt at the bottom of Tucker’s porch, I know it’s real.
Everything is numb as I drive back to Dad’s—my mind and body suddenly feel nothing.
It’s not until I’m back in my childhood bedroom, staring at the suitcase I’ve just shoveled everything into, that the gravity of what I’ve just done hits me. I ran out on Tucker.
Tucker; the man who’s held my heart all these years.
Tucker, who whispered love you as he fell asleep, after all these years, like it meant nothing.
The frustration I felt as I laid in his bed returns with a vengeance.
I’m seething as I unpack and repack the suitcase.
How could he just throw the words out there like that?
Do they mean that little to him? Whenever I’d allow myself, just for a second, to imagine hearing those words from his lips again, it sure as hell wasn’t like that—so nonchalantly, the way you’d farewell an acquaintance.
Tears stream down my face, but I make no effort to stop them. Letting them fall feels almost cathartic. I drop the items I was rearranging and let my arms hang by my side. Looming over the suitcase, I don’t move as the quiet sobs wrack my body.
“Peanut.”
I fear I’m too far gone when even the unexpected sound of Dad’s calm voice behind me doesn’t put a stop to the tears. It doesn’t even startle me. Neither does the gentle hand he places on my shoulder.
“Grace, hey,” he murmurs, coming around to stand between me and the bed. “Oh, honey.” His voice breaks when he catches a glimpse of my face. I can imagine how bad it looks, left over mascara and tear streaks down my cheeks, jaw and chin.
With a grunt, Dad picks my suitcase up off my bed and places it on the floor.
It’s only now that I notice his crutches and cast have been replaced by a moon boot.
He’s apprehensive as he takes a seat on the edge and pats the spot next to him.
I barely feel my body move, but somehow I find myself seated a moment later.
The crying seems to have ended, but I fear it’s due to a drought in my ducts as opposed to the anger and sadness subsiding.
“Wanna tell me what happened?” Dad prompts.
“I—” I croak out, trying to find my voice. “I ran.”
Dad is silent while he waits for me to continue.
“He told me he loved me as he was falling asleep, and I ran. He probably doesn’t even know I left. Dad, what have I done?” My voice breaks on the last word and I hang my head, sniffling.
He rubs a comforting hand along the top of my back, like he did when I was a child. “You got spooked, peanut, and that’s okay.”
My body shakes as I begin to sob again. “It’s okay,” Dad says over and over, like if he says it enough times, I might actually believe it. He just sits there and lets me cry for as long as I need. When I finally raise my head and wipe the tears from beneath my lashes, Dad gives me a half smile.
“You ready to talk about it?” he asks cautiously, and I nod.
“Everything was going perfectly fine—great, even—until he uttered those two little words in that drowsy voice and fell asleep. I didn’t even get the chance to respond.
” I sniff again, and Dad passes me a tissue from the box on the nightstand.
“Thank you,” I say, blowing my nose before continuing.
“I just can’t believe he’d say something like that in such a throwaway manner, you know?
” My voice wobbles on the last few words, and I’m suddenly fascinated by my hands in my lap.
“Forgive me for bein’ a little slow, it’s late and my brain is laggin’, but what is it exactly that’s got you so upset?”
Rubbing my eyes, I keep my head down as I reply.
“It’s the fact he said something so important so carelessly.
You can’t just tell someone you love them like that,” I say, exasperated, but regret the tone almost immediately.
“Sorry, Dad, I know you’re just trying to help.
I just feel all over the place right now. ”
He drops his hand to my thigh and gives it a comforting squeeze.
When I meet his gaze, it hits me just how much this man does for me.
It’s who knows what ridiculous time of the morning, and here he is, moonboot and all, comforting his adult daughter.
Looking at his eyes is like looking into a mirror, the bright blue of my irises is a copy and paste of his.
Except right now, his look tired, and I imagine mine are bloodshot as hell.
When I place my hand over his, he covers it with his other hand. Cupping my hand between his, he gives it three quick little squeezes.
“I mean this with all due respect, but I think you’ve got it completely wrong, kiddo.”
Despite my somber mood, my head shoots up. “What?” I gape, my brows furrowed.
“I don’t think careless is what it was.”
Anger rolls through me and I rear back. It’s Tucker I’m angry at, not Dad, but one is in front of me and one probably doesn’t even realize I’m gone, so it’s far easier to take it out on Dad.
“You think it was romantic? Thoughtful?” My tone is harsh, harsher than he deserves, but I can’t help it as the words rush out. “Because I was there, Dad, and it wasn’t anything of the sort, I’ll tell you that much.”
Concern flickers across Dad’s brow as he searches my face. “Hey now,” he says with a squeeze of my hand. “I’m gonna need you to take a breath, Grace. Can you do that for me? Because I can see you’re frustrated, and we ain’t gonna get anywhere with you like this.”
“We’re not going to get anywhere with you defending Tucker, either,” I all but spit at him, and immediately regret it.
Thankfully, Dad appears to take my attitude in his stride, simply giving me a the ghost of a smile.
I let out a deep sigh. “I’m sor—”
He cuts me off. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, peanut,” he says, cupping my knee.
“You didn’t deserve that.”
He just waves his free hand in response.
“Now, will you at least hear me out?” he asks, and waits until I nod to continue.
“You’re tellin’ me you’re upset because he said it so nonchalantly, but I don’t think that’s the real issue at all.
I wasn’t there of course, but I’d put money on the fact he’d say it like that because loving you is as natural to him as breathing is—not because it means nothing.
And I think you ran, not because you were hurt, but because you got spooked, ‘cause after all these years, you still love him, too, and that scares you more than you wanna admit.”
Dad might’ve stopped talking, but I’m still looking at him as intently as I did when he was speaking. The impact of everything he’s just said has rendered me speechless. He doesn’t press me to respond, just sits there quietly, still holding my hand between his.
Loving you is as natural to him as breathing.
Of course it is. Because loving him is as easy as breathing, too.
“I’m scared to try again.” The meek sound of my voice is unfamiliar.
“I know you are, peanut.” He shakes our hands against my thigh. “But life’s too damn short to spend it scared.”
As much as it pains me to admit defeat right now, he’s right, of course. Dad’s always right. What’s life without a bit of fear, anyway?
If I’m honest, I’m not sure how I’d survive if we tried again and didn’t make it, but at least I’d be able to say I gave it my all. At the end of the day, that’s all I can do, but fuck if it isn’t the scariest shit known to man.
“Listen,” he says, his voice sterner than before.
“I can see the cogs turning in your head. We could sit here all night going through the what ifs and maybes, and I’d do it if I thought that’s what you really needed, but I think we both know what you need t’ do.
” He glances down at my packed suitcase and looks back at me tight-lipped.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I let it out slowly. “I’m not happy about it, but you’re right.” Opening my eyes, I give my dad a tiny smile. “I know what I need to do.”
“That’s my girl,” he whispers, kissing me on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, peanut.” And with that, he turns and leaves, gently closing my bedroom door behind him.