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He winced. “You’ve only been an hour away this whole time?”
Shaking her head sadly, she told him, “She died when I was six. I lived in a couple foster homes in Santa Fe after that, but I went to live with my granny in New York when I was eight.”
He frowned. “You were in foster care? Why didn’t anyone call me? I would’ve taken you in a heartbeat.”
Addison burst into tears. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” she said, trying to get herself under control. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you.” Mason, who had been her silent supporter up to this point, wrapped his arms around her. “Everything you’re feeling right now is perfectly natural.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve said, turning to Mason for the first time in several minutes. “I know we’ve met the last couple nights, but I never even asked your name.”
“Mason St. John.” He held out a hand, and the two men shook. “Is it all right if I go get her a glass of water?”
Steve nodded, waving in the general direction of the bar, and turned his attention back to her. “How long have you known I’m your dad?”
“Nine days.”
He ran his hand through his hair again, making it stand up in the back. “Sharon didn’t even put my name on the birth certificate.” He didn’t sound surprised. Perhaps her sudden explosion of tears clued him in.
Shaking her head, Addison told him, “I only figured it out because I took a DNA test.”
“I’m so glad you did.” Steve’s smile made the last of her tears melt away. “I signed up for all those ancestry sites years ago, wondering if I had any family out there I didn’t know about. I’d given up on the whole thing until you walked through my door.”
“Family you didn’t know about?” Something about his tone caught her attention. “The way you said that, I don’t think you’re talking about a long-lost uncle.”
His shrug was the definition of nonchalance, but a smugness shone out from his eyes. “Lots of tourists and hikers pass through this little town, and this is the only bar. You may not be able to see it now, but I was quite a looker back in the eighties and nineties.”
Mason snorted from behind the bar. “Lots of potential for little Stephens and Stephanies you didn’t know about?”
With another little shrug, Steve said, “Your perspective on things starts to change when you get old. You’ll see what I mean in twenty years.”
“But that means...” God, Addison could hardly breathe. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she tried again. “That means you were looking for me, too.”
“Yeah,” Steve said, resting his hand on top of hers on the table. “Yeah, I was. I’m sorry if you had difficulties after Sharon passed away. It kills me that I’ve missed so much of your life, but I want you to know that I’m here now. And if you’ll let me, I’ll try to figure out how to be the dad you should’ve had all along.”
Addison launched herself across the table, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her tears came back with a vengeance, but she didn’t even care this time. Especially not when she realized he’d started crying too.
She had a dad.
After thirty-eight years, she finally had a dad.
She’d never felt more like she deserved to cry in her life.
Hours flew by like minutes as Addison and Steve talked. He called in one of his servers on her day off to tend bar, and they sat at a table in the corner farthest from the jukebox, filling in the details of their lives.
It wasn’t until nearly eleven that Steve took a large gulp of his beer, cleared his throat, and said, “I can’t help but notice you haven’t mentioned a single thing from before you were eight. And you change the subject anytime I mention Sharon.”
Addison’s heart skipped a beat. Her gaze instinctively shot over to Mason, who perched on a nearby barstool for the last couple of hours without complaint, giving them some space. He lifted one eyebrow, clearly asking, Do you need me?
A deep breath, and a sip of her Jack and Ginger. The burn as it slipped down her throat centered her.
She could do this on her own.
Giving Mason the all-clear with a minute shake of the head, she turned back to her father.
“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to,” he said before she could speak. “It obviously makes you uncomfortable. We’ve got the rest of our lives ahead of us, so nothing needs to happen tonight.”
“No, it’s okay.” Another sip—more of the whiskey’s exquisite burn. “It’s just...not a very happy story. Most people don’t like hearing about it.”
