“I actually wanted to tell you I’ve been working on my head game. So, if you ever want to let me practice some more on you or show you what I’ve got, you know where to find me,” he says just as the elevator doors open on the ground floor.
I don’t even answer him, I just let him get out of the elevator without another word. I can’t even imagine how many women he’s practiced on. No thanks. That tongue probably has some sort of STD lingering on it just waiting to pass it over to me.
I’m swearing off men for a while. I want nothing to do with them. They’re all the same: dirty, lying jerks. Just like my dad, just like every other guy. Why did I think I’d find someone different?
The only thing on my mind is, I didn’t really let Aspen explain himself. I actually don’t know that vile was his. What if it wasn’t? What if I just made the biggest mistake of my life and walked away from the only good thing that has ever happened to me. What if Aspen is the one and I didn’t even give him a chance to explain what that vile was doing in his coat pocket.
I shake that thought from my mind.
There are so many what if’s. I just don’t know what to think anymore.
If Aspen were to ask me to give him another shot I would definitely hear him out. I just don’t want to be like my mom who turned a blind eye and acted like my dad’s drug abuse didn’t affect her. She didn’t even leave my dad because of it, she left him when she found out he was cheating. I want to let Aspen know that if he has an issue, I will only be with him if he never uses again and he needs to prove it to me somehow, that I’m certain about.
***
The plane touches down in Los Angeles around 6:00 p.m. The sun is low in the sky, casting everything in that golden-orange haze that makes even the unfamiliar feel like a memory. I gained about two hours on the flight, which buys me a little more time to prepare myself.
Though I don’t think any amount of time will ever feel like enough.
I skip baggage claim, no checked luggage, just a small carry-on and the weight of everything I’ve been avoiding. My feet move faster than I expect, like my body wants to outrun my mind.
Outside, I spot them almost instantly. LAX smells like jet fuel and misplaced dreams.
I don’t feel ready, but my legs are already moving.
Maybe that’s the thing about family, no matter how broken it is, you still run toward it when it’s falling apart.
“Little sis!” Cole calls out, already on his way toward me with that same wide, goofy grin he’s had since we were kids. He pulls me into a tight bear hug, one that lifts me a little off the ground like I’m still fifteen and he’s trying to embarrass me at school pickup. It’s grounding, and for a second, I remember what it feels like to be safe.
“Hii,” I breathe, hugging him back with all the strength I’ve got.
Adam steps forward next and his arms wrap around me just as tightly. He presses a kiss to my cheek, and I close my eyes soaking it all in. I didn’t realize how much I missed this—them.
Oh, how I missed them both.
“Let’s go see Dad,” Adam says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
I nod. “Yeah.” My voice is small, “Let’s go see him.”
The thirty-minute drive to the hospital is quiet, tense in a way that hums beneath the music playing low on the radio. Every street we turn down feels like it’s taking me closer to something I’ve been running from.
I haven’t seen my father in over two years.
As awful as it sounds, there were moments, days, weeks, when I was sure I’d never see him again; not after what happened, not after what he did to my mom, to us, to me.
The man in that hospital bed isn’t the dad I once clung to when I was little. He became a stranger, one I had to mourn even thoughhe was still breathing somewhere. For a long time, I believed he’d already left us in every way that mattered.
But then Cole and Adam called me, told me he was clean, that he’d stayed clean.
And suddenly, I felt something I didn’t expect: hope.
It was fragile and painful and confusing, but it was there. Hope… and maybe a sliver of forgiveness. Because no matter what he did, if he died without me seeing him again, that would haunt me forever.
I thought about the entire plane ride.
He gave me life. I couldn’t ignore that.
The nurse leads us down a quiet hallway and stops in front of the door. I can see the soft pulse of monitors glowing through the crack. My feet stop moving.
