Page 176 of His Surrender

Dad’s expression stills. “Do what?”

“Love her.”

He studies me for several long seconds. “You told Aubrey you loved her and then suggested you might not be capable of staying with her?”

“I didn’t say I was leaving.”

“Did she understand that?”

I think of her standing in front of me with tears on her face, still trying to convince me that one terrible night did not define who I was.

“No.”

Dad exhales through his nose. “That girl loves you.”

It feels like a knife to my heart. “I know.”

His eyebrows turn up. “Do you?”

The question irritates me. “Of course I do.”

“That was not what I asked.”

I look at him sharply.

“Do you understand what it means that she loves you?”

I glance away.

“It means she deserves someone who doesn’t lose his mind every time she is late. It means she gets to decide what she deserves.”

My jaw tightens. “You didn’t see me.”

“No. I saw you after your mother died.”

The quiet words stop me.

Dad leans forward, resting both forearms on the table. “I saw you stop talking about things that mattered. I saw you build walls so carefully that most people never even realized they were there.”

“I was functioning,” I say, trying to defend myself.

“You were surviving.” The word lands too close to something Aubrey said. “That is not the same thing.”

I take a deep, defeated breath. “I know.”

“Do you?” Dad’s tone is not harsh, but there is an edge beneath it now. “Because it sounds like you are preparing to abandon the first woman you have ever truly loved so you can return to a life that never asked anything from you.”

“I am trying not to hurt her.”

“No. You are trying to avoid being hurt.”

The distinction cuts through every defense I have constructed.

I stare at him, and he doesn’t look away.

“You are dressing it up as protection because that makes it sound noble. It’s not.”

Anger flares before I can stop it. “You have no idea what was happening in my head.”