GARRETT
I’ve spent twelve hours on an airplane today.
Twelve fucking hours, Denver to Vancouver, Vancouver to Halifax.
Nova Scotia isn’t at all where I expected to find myself this morning when I woke up, but here I am. It’s just after eleven p.m., my time, when I touchdown in Halifax, but here on the east coast, it’s three in the morning.
Three in the fucking morning, and instead of home, where it should be, I find my dad’s car exactly where I knew it would be: the only twenty-four-hour diner around. He’s the only customer here, aside from the same old man who’s been sitting at the counter every morning at the ass crack of dawn for the last twenty years.
“Alycia,” I greet the woman behind the counter, the one who smiles brightly when I walk in, despite the hint of remorse. She’s been working here since we were sixteen. I used to drop her off for her shift, then drive back an hour before it ended, sit at the counter and dip my free French fries in my free shake while I waited for my girlfriend to get off work so we could make out in the backseat of my car. “What are you doing still working here? You said you were going to quit.”
“Garrett.” She pushes through the swinging door and engulfs me in a hug, familiar and warm. “Just a couple extra shifts here and there. Kids are so damn expensive.” She pulls back, her eyes soft and kind like they always were. Once upon a time we said we were going to get married. But she wanted me to stay here, and I wanted to leave. Things weren’t meant to be, and that’s okay. “I tried calling you, but your number’s different now. I was going to stop by your place on the way home this morning, let your mom know he was here.”
“How long’s he been here?”
“Two hours, give or take. Figure he came by when the bar closed.” Her gaze lands on my dad, slumped over in a booth. “Hasn’t had a thing to eat or drink since he’s been here.”
“What about before?”
She shrugs. “Not sure. He doesn’t want to talk, so I’ve let him be.”
“Thanks for keeping an eye on him.”
She catches my elbow as I turn away. “Will you be around for a couple days?”
I shake my head. “My flight is at noon.”
She squeezes gently. “Take care of yourself.”
My dad is tucked away in the back corner, head in his hands, eyes downcast. For a moment, sympathy takes over, and I feel for the man. But then I think about the wife and daughters he left at home, afraid and without answers, and I remember being in that position too many times to count. And anger wins.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Dad’s head snaps up as I stand above him, eyes bloodshot, face tear streaked. Just like that, every bit of anger wavers, ebbing when—for once—I want it to flow. I’ve never been good at holding onto it. It makes me feel sick, miserable, tired. But I need an outlet, and I thought for sure this would be it, because making Jennie my outlet several hours ago sure as fuck wasn’t it.
“Garrett.” He swipes furiously beneath his eyes. “What are you…What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here? You have a family who depends on you to come home, to be present. Instead you’re out all night getting drunk.”
“I’m…no.” His head shakes rapidly, and while his eyes are tired and red rimmed, they don’t have that sluggish, glazed look to them, the one that told me his mood when I was younger, whether I could talk to him, or if I should hide out in my bedroom for the rest of the night.
He reaches under his coat, showing me the neck on a bottle of whiskey, the seal still intact, before he quickly covers it back up. “I didn’t.”
“What about before this? At the bar?”
“I wanted to. Fuck, I wanted to.” He drags his fingers through his hair, tugging. “I ordered it. Whiskey neat. Double. Stared at it for five fucking hours. Wouldn’t let the bartender take it away but couldn’t bring myself to drink it either.” He scrubs a hand over his eyes before choking out his next words. “I’m a fucking failure.”
“No, you’re not,” I argue without thinking.
“I am. Here’s my son, saving my ass like he’s done a hundred times before. Only difference is he’s not a kid anymore. My problems never should have been yours.”
“No, they shouldn’t have,” I agree quietly, sliding in across from him. “But I loved you then, and I love you now. Standing beside you is where I’ll be while you solve your problems.” I touch the back of his hand, and his tentative gaze meets mine. “But I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I don’t know where to start,” he admits.
“From the beginning would be a good spot.”
He nods, silence stretching between us as he looks for his beginning.
“Back in December, right around Christmas, they announced at work that they’d sold the factory. There was talk the new owners were going to lay everybody off, clean house and start fresh. I started looking for another job right away, but they showed up after the holidays and everything was business as usual. We thought we were safe. And then yesterday…” His chest heaves, voice cracking. “Yesterday they came in. Laid everyone off. Everyone. Just walked in, told us all to go home, to not bother coming back.”
He chuckles, a low, exasperated sound. “Three months’ salary. I’ve given them twenty-five years, they lay me off with zero notice, and all I get is three months’ fucking salary. How am I supposed to support my family on that? I can’t, Garrett. I just can’t.”
The reminder is on the tip of my tongue, that I can support them just fine, help out as much as they need. Hell, I’ve been trying to get them to relocate to Vancouver for years. But I know it’s not the solution he’s looking for.
“And you haven’t talked to Mom,” I guess.
Dad shakes his head. “She knew I was worried about it when you came home at Christmas, but then everything seemed fine. I stopped looking for work and we both stopped worrying. Now I…I don’t know how to tell her. There’s nothing for me out there, Garrett. I don’t have a college degree.”
“Because you took a steady job that paid well so you could provide for your girlfriend and your new baby,” I remind him. It’s never been lost on me that my dad gave up on a lot of things to become a father at the age of eighteen. The only thing he did for himself was finish high school. Being thrust into such a heavy role of responsibility at a young age only perpetuated his habits, and I spent many years feeling guilty for being born, telling myself he never would have struggled if they hadn’t had me. Logically, I know my dad’s struggle isn’t my fault, but when you’re a kid who’s responsible for your father more than he is for you, it’s hard to remind yourself of that.
“How am I supposed to send three girls to college? I don’t know how to be the husband my wife deserves, the father the girls deserve, that you deserve.”
I lay my hand on his. “We don’t need you to be anybody other than who you are, Dad. We just need you to show up.”
His gaze falls to our clasped hands, and his callused thumb glides over mine. “I didn’t show up for you.” His words are laced with remorse, but more than that, recognition. He’s not looking for me to convince him he was there; he needs me to know he realizes his faults, the places he went wrong.
“Not for a little while,” I admit. “But maybe sometimes we need to hit rock bottom to gain a new perspective. You put the work in and came back stronger than ever. You became the dad I always wanted, and I’m grateful to know that man, that that’s the man my sisters know. That you struggled, that you still struggle sometimes, it doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you human.”
Tears gather in his eyes and start a slow roll down his cheek. “You and your sisters are the only thing I got right. I’m so proud of you.”
“And I’m proud of you.”
The house is dark when I pull into the driveway, save for the faint glow of the light over the stove, the one I can see from the window above the kitchen sink. Mom leaves it on in case someone wakes in the middle of the night.
My dad’s leg bounces in the passenger seat, gaze trained on the front door as he spins his sobriety chip between his fingers. “What if she leaves me again?”
“I think she’s forgiven you for worse things than being part of a major layoff. Mom has a big heart. She doesn’t give up without a fight.”
The look on his face tells me he knows, but the fear in his eyes says he let her down enough once before, and he can’t live without her a second time.
“If that happens, we’ll work through it together. But you need to believe that your relationship is strong enough to withstand this together.”
Silence fills the car while he holds my gaze, and when he nods, I turn off the engine. Outside the car, he embraces me, a hug I didn’t know I needed.
“Thank you for believing in me. For giving me so many more chances than I ever deserved.”
I hope one day he realizes he’s always been worth every second chance.
Light illuminates the living room the second I step inside, briefly blinding me as my mom leaps from the couch.
Confusion mars her grief-stricken face. “Garrett? What are you doing here?”
I step aside and my dad takes one tentative step forward, then another.
“Lucas,” Mom gasps quietly, clapping a hand to her mouth as tears pool in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he says softly, and I watch as tears slide down both their cheeks before my mom throws herself in his arms.
I steal away down the dark hallway, creeping up the staircase. Every bedroom door is open, every bed empty, except Alexa’s. When the door opens with a creak, I find all three of my sisters snuggled together. Moonlight streaks across their faces from the bay window, illuminating Gabby’s eyelids as they flutter.
She sits up, blinking. “Hello? Who’s there?”
The bedside lamp flicks on, and Alexa scrambles to sitting, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “Garrett?”
“Garrett!” Gabby scrambles from bed, rushing over to me in her kitten pajamas.
“Shhh.” I wrap my arms around her as she buries her head against my torso. “Don’t wake Stephie.”
“You came home?” Alexa asks, watching as I carry Gabby back to bed.
“You said you needed me.”
Her bottom lip wobbles. “So you came back for us?”
I bend, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. Alexa likes to play tough, but she’s got the softest heart, like Jennie. “I’ll always be here when you need me. Now get back to sleep. I just wanted to check in on you.”
Gabby grins up at me, pulling back the covers, patting the mattress. “Will you sleep with us?”
I chuckle. “There’s no room.”
She pouts, scooting closer to Stephie in the middle. “We can make room.”
I glance at Alexa, the uncertainty that dances across her face. Slowly, her brows smooth, and she lays her head back down on her pillow, eyes flitting to the empty spot next to Gabby.
“Do any of you snore?” I ask.
“Lex does,” Gabby states. “Like a trucker, Dad says.”
“Shut. Up. Gabby.”
Laughing, I peel my hoodie off and toss it in the corner of the room, leaving me in a T-shirt and sweats as I climb into my sister’s double bed, content in knowing I’ll be falling off this at some point in the night.
Gabby takes my arm, draping it across her as Alexa turns off the lamp, blanketing the room in darkness. Her breathing grows shallow and steady within minutes, but my mind is racing too fast to sleep.
The past twenty-four hours have been a giant clusterfuck of problems and emotions, things I wasn’t prepared to handle. It feels like I handled this issue right, but my gut tells me I fucked my other one straight into the ground, because the only thing I see every time I close my eyes is Jennie’s face, the way her eyes clouded with rejection when I told her I needed space.
I know I wasn’t thinking straight, but Jesus Christ, what was I fucking thinking? Was that the solution to my jealousy, to my uncertainty when it came to how she felt for me, whether we were growing together or separately? To feeling helpless with my family?
“Garrett?”
Through the darkness, I find Alexa peering at me from her pillow. “Hmm?”
“I’m sorry I said I hated you. I don’t hate you.”
I smile. “I know, Lex.”
“I was just really scared, and Stephie and Gabby were scared, and I felt like I had to be brave for them. But I didn’t know how. I wanted you to come home and be brave for us.”
“It’s okay to be scared. But for what it’s worth, I think you were plenty brave for all of us.” I stretch my arm across the space between us, and when Alexa reaches for my hand, I hook my pointer finger around hers. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Next time you’re scared, it’s important for us to communicate, okay? Nearly everything can be fixed with a little communication.”
The irony isn’t lost on me that communicating is not on the list of things I did well with Jennie hours ago. I grew up straddling a thin line, too afraid to speak my mind out of fear of upsetting my dad whenever he was teetering on the edge, but that’s exactly what I did to Jennie. I was scared, so I talked at her. She put her trust in me, trust I fought tooth and nail to earn, and in the matter of a half hour, I threw it all away because I was too afraid to swallow my pride and tell her what I was scared of: losing her, losing my dad, failing my family.
“Are you taking your girlfriend on a date for Valentine’s Day?” Alexa asks, as if she knows exactly what’s going on in my head.
“Jennie’s not my girlfriend,” I grumble.
“Then how come you knew who I was talking about?” she tosses back, all snarky.
“Three siblings,” I mutter, “and not a single one is a boy.”
“I listened to you talk to her on the phone after her dance recital.”
“Alexa.”
She snickers. “What? It was cute. You called her your best friend and you said you made snowman ornaments with your handprints. I know I’m only twelve, but I’m pretty sure that means she’s your girlfriend.”
“Maybe she was, kinda, or at least I wanted her to be,” I confess. “I wanted her to be more than just a friend. But I’m pretty sure I messed it up.” I close my eyes and sigh. “No, I know I messed it up.”
“Why? Did she break up with you?”
“No. I think I did.”
“Ew. Why would you do that? Jennie’s cool and nice and she makes fun of you but keeps you around anyway even though you’re annoyin’.”
I chuckle quietly. “You’re right. She’s all of those things and more. I guess I was scared.”
“I thought it was okay to be scared,” Alexa whispers back to me.
I sigh. “It is.”
“Are you going to talk to her?”
“Should I?”
She snorts. “Are all boys this clueless? Don’t you like her?”
“I’m not sure like is a strong enough word.”
“Doesn’t that answer your question? Why would you want to be away from her and sad when you can be with her and happy?” She laces her fingers through mine, squeezing. “I bet if you ask her for another chance, she’ll give it to you.”
“You think so?”
“You’re worth a second chance, Garrett.”
The theater is dark, the atmosphere humming as the audience buzzes excitedly.
I check my ticket for the seventeenth time, which is super unnecessary; I’ve memorized it.
“Excuse me,” I whisper, indicating to the empty seat halfway down the row before I start inching toward it. “Pardon me. Sorry. So sorry. Excuse me.”
Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I plop down with a sigh, and Adam, Jaxon, and Cara all arch a brow.
Carter leans around everyone, exhaling heavily. “Oh thank fuck. I was worried you were bailing. Jennie woulda kicked you right in the balls.”
I think she might anyway, but instead of saying that, I laugh. It’s a lot shriller and more panicked than I’d like.
Adam clears his throat, eyes on the empty stage. “Everything okay?”
“With my dad? Yes. He’s going to start his counseling sessions again, and my mom was helping him with his resume before I left.”
“Good. I’m glad. And with her?” He doesn’t say her name. He doesn’t have to. “She called me this morning. Asked if I knew where you were because you had a fight, and she went to your place to try to talk to you, but you weren’t there. It wasn’t my place to tell her, Garrett, so I didn’t, but you need to. She’s either part of your life, or she’s not. You don’t get to ask her to let you in and then not do the same for her, especially when it affects your relationship. You have every right to be upset about everything, what happened with your dad, what she said, even though I doubt she meant it…but you don’t shut her out. You’re smarter than that.” His eyes shift sideways, meeting mine. “You’re here, so I assume that means you’re going to be honest with her.”
“Yes, Dad,” I grumble.
His mouth quirks. “Make me proud, son.”
The theater goes quiet, a single spotlight shining on the stage.
Carter leans forward, glaring down the row at everyone. “Shhh!”
“Nobody said any—” Jaxon clamps his mouth shut, then pretends to button it, eyes wide at the fierce expression Carter wears.
My eyes fall to the tall object sitting on the floor between him and Olivia, and I bury my face in my hand. “Does he have a fucking tripod stand and a video recorder? Does he not know cellphones come equipped with video function now?”
Adam chuckles. “He’s a proud brother.”
Proud he is. He spends the entire show half-assed clapping at the end of each performance before he examines the program and announces how many songs there are until Jennie’s. It’s the very last song, so by the time we get there and Carter leans forward and opens his big mouth, our entire row and the one behind us all drone in unison, “It’s Jennie’s turn.”
But I don’t blame him for being proud. When those curtains open, Jennie’s automatically the most magnificent person who’s taken this stage tonight.
Draped in crimson, silk ribbons and chiffon, her chocolate waves flowing around her shoulders, every inch of her glows.
Her head lifts, revealing the deep shade of lipstick that matches her dress, and the sadness etched in her eyes rocks me to my core as she stares out at the audience.
Those pale blue eyes sweep slowly through the crowd, up and down the rows, like they’re cataloging each attendee.
Or looking for someone.
Because when they stop on me, everything changes. The lines in her face ease, her shoulders drop, and she stands a little taller. The grief in her eyes fades as the music starts, the familiar chords of her favorite song making me grin. A smile starts in the corner of her mouth, a slow beginning that gives way to an earth-shattering explosion, igniting her face with the most devastating happiness, making her shine.
She always fucking shines.
She’s a masterpiece as she comes to life, letting the music carry her across the stage. Simon fades into the background compared to her, not worthy to be any part of her whole. The show belongs to her, and in this moment, the world does too. If she wants to be a star, they’re waiting. If she wants her own studio, she can have it. There’s nothing this woman can’t do; I’m sure of it.
I’m so enthralled in her I barely notice that Carter’s got the camera off the tripod, that he’s standing in the aisle with the video camera as he tapes the entire performance, head bobbing along.
I’m so in awe of her that I don’t spare a second thought to the arm Simon wraps around her waist before dipping her, his hand running a slow path up her side as the music begins to drift to a close.
I’m so mind-blowingly obsessed with her that I almost miss the look in Simon’s eyes as he draws her into his chest, the way his hand slides along her jaw as the music stops, the way he takes her chin between his fingers and tilts her face up.
I almost miss the way his mouth covers hers as he sears her with a kiss for their grand finale.
But I don’t.
