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My heart is in my throat as I walk down the low-lit hallway and stop inside the doorway of Violet’s hospital room. Seeing all the tubes, bandages, and the beeping of machines drains the color from my face and my stomach drops. I find my dad slumped over the bed, holding Violet’s hand. He stirs and turns at my presence, and my heart sinks even lower at his red and swollen eyes.
“How is she?” my voice cracks.
“Stable. Hasn’t woken up yet, though.” I enter the room, feeling like I don’t belong here. Acting like her friend when I treated her so poorly. I lower myself into the open seat next to my dad, taking in all her wounds. She’s pale. Bruised and swollen. Her arm and leg are in a cast, and I can’t stomach the sound of the machine helping her breathe. Tears fall like waves down my cheeks.
Dad grabs my hand. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay.”
My chest constricts, and a painful sob forces its way out. He’s trying to comfort me, but I know him. He’s not sure he believes his own words. “Dad, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have picked up her call.”
He wraps his arm around me and snuggles me into his chest. It reminds me of when I was little, and he would comfort me on the nights when mom would say something hurtful or drink too much and “accidentally” hit me. “Shhh…baby girl, this is not your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have let her leave. We all should have talked it out. I should have been truthful from the beginning.”
I cry on his shoulder, the guilt overwhelming me. When the sobs begin to subside, I pull away, and he reaches out to wipe at my wet cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I should have told you.”
“Why? Why her?” I need to know. I need to understand.
He sighs, looking more tired than I’ve ever seen him. “Because she has this aura. From the moment I saw her, it wrapped around me and took hold of me. I knew right away I was done for. I didn’t plan for it. Neither did she. It wasn’t something that happened instantly. Or without caution and regret. But the chemistry was too intense to deny. Don’t hate her. Hate me. She wanted to tell you. I wouldn’t allow it. That’s what we were fighting about when you came home. She couldn’t lie to you anymore. She was ending it.”
His confession sits heavy on my conscience. Tell him. Confess your own sins and be free of the guilt. “Do you love her?” I ask, needing to know. If he does, then it’s my chance. He will have to understand.
He doesn’t have to say the words for me to see it. The pain and torture of wanting something so wrong, it can only be right. A love so forbidden, nothing else matters. “I do,” he responds, and I know it’s time. I need to come clean.
I hug him, needing his comfort to get through this. “I’m sorry. I handled this wrong. I was just caught off guard by it all.”
“I know. And for that, I’m sorry. It’s over. I won’t—”
I pull back. “Dad, I’ve never seen or heard you show any proper emotion toward another woman since mom. And to hear you admit you love Violet, as weird and crazy as it is, I could never take that away from you.”
“What are you saying?”
That I’m just as guilty of being in love with a man I’m not allowed to be. And just like you, I would do anything to have a future with him. But the way he’s looking at me has me stalling my own confession. Gabriel’s words ring loud and clear inside my head. What do you think your father will do? Accept us? Shit, what am I doing? Dad watches me, waiting for my reply. I blink, staring back at him, realizing my error in judgment. Now, not only is it not the time for a confession, but Gabriel is right; he won’t take this news lightly.
Shaking off my insanity, I reroute my thoughts. “I’m saying it may take some time—and be fucking weird since my roommate and best friend is your girlfriend—but if you love her and she loves you, you have my blessing.” Accept them now, confess later. I can’t expect him to approve of my sins if I’m not willing to be open to his.
“Thank you.” He hugs me tight, and I bask in the familiar smell of my dad, missing these small moments. I wonder if Violet appreciates him. Knows just how amazing he is. How broody he can be. How, when I was little, I used to refer to him as the gentle giant. His large hands were always too big to maneuver around tiny Band-Aids, so I would have to help him. I pull back, feeling more guilt and regret at his unshed tears. He truly does love her.
