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"We're gonna head out then," Porter says. "Call us if there's a walk in."
"Where are you going?" I ask. It's out of the ordinary for them to leave during the day.
Nixon grunts. "We have some business to take care of."
I look at my brothers, not trusting them. "You're going to do something stupid, aren't you?"
"No, we're just gonna let some people know you can't mess with us."
A sinking feeling fills my gut. "Don't go after the guys who came to our house."
Smith shakes his head, fists already clenched. "What, and let people think they can come to our home and fuck around?"
Porter chimes in: "Dad would be proud of us for taking care of business."
Trying to keep my cool I walk away from them muttering under my breath. "Dad was a drunk. Not exactly a hero."
"Hey, Sweetie," Smith says, gripping my wrist as I walk past them. "He was your father; he deserves your respect."
Pressing my lips together tightly, I blink, refusing to cry in front of them. Not about this.
"Let her go, she knows what's good for her," Nixon says and just like that, they all walk away from me, leaving me here, reeling.
I press my hands to my face, trying to steady myself. Why, after all this time, is my father still able to hold so much control over my emotions? I hate it.
"Sweetie?" A voice startles me, and I spin around.
It's him.
"Sailor," I say. Both relieved by his presence and confused. "What are you doing here?"
"I finally got time off work and needed to find you. Sorry I took so long."
I press my fingertips to my lips, remembering his kisses, the way it felt to be held in his arms. Like I belonged.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asks.
I shake my head, stepping toward him. "I haven't stopped thinking about you."
He gives me a wry smile, and even that is probably more than I deserve after I kicked him out of my room. "What have you been thinking?"
I swallow my fear. "That I wasn't a very nice host."
"It wasn't your party," he says, stepping closer.
"But it was my bedroom."
He gives me a wider smile now and I feel that fluttering in my heart again. With that promise... that hope.
"You hungry?" I ask, moving to the shop door and turning the lock.
He nods.
"I was just getting lunch, in the back room," I tell him. "If you wanna..." I motion for him to follow and he does.
I pull food from the fridge, aware of his eyes on me. This time I don't pull down the hem of my sweater or roll my eyes. This time I want him to watch. To notice me.
"You like peanut butter and jelly?" I ask, pulling out a loaf of bread.
"Who doesn't?"
"I don't know, I mean, I know nothing about you. You could be deathly allergic to nuts."
"I'm not."
He's quieter today, and I notice the stern look in his eyes as if he is holding so much back.
I spread the peanut butter and strawberry jam on the slices of white bread and grab a bag of potato chips from a cupboard. Setting the food on a paper plate I hand him one, then reach in the fridge for cans of cola.
"Sorry it's nothing fancy," I tell him opening my can and taking a sip of the sugary carbonated drink.
"I don't need fancy." He picks up his sandwich and takes a bite.
"What do you need?" I ask as I eat my lunch.
He shrugs. "I didn't grow up with much. My family? They were sketchy at best. Dad was a dealer, Mom was a user, and my siblings and I had to fend for ourselves."
"How did you end up in the Navy?"
He lifts his eyebrows. "You really wanna know? I thought you had me all figured out?"
I twist my lips, feeling embarrassed. "I owe you an apology. It was a crappy thing for me to do, to send you away. I guess you could say I have daddy issues. He wasn't a dealer, but he was an alcoholic. He'd go out to sea for months at a time and since my mom was MIA most of the time before they both died in a car accident, my childhood was spent with my brothers watching over me."
"And did they do a good job?"
I exhale. "In some ways, sure. They opened this shop, so we have a roof over our heads. But it doesn't feel secure. I don't feel like I'm anchored to anything."
"And that's what you want? To be tied down?"
I pick up my cola. "Is it bad to answer that with a yes?"
"It's your life, Sweetheart. As for me, I joined the Navy two years ago to get away from a rough situation. I can't imagine settling down now."
I listen to him, understanding him in a lot of ways. Our backgrounds are similar, and that isn't something I expected.
