Page 62 of Coastal Runaway

“I thought I was doing the right thing, you clearly needed space from whatever teenage breakdown you were having at the time.”

I’ve never heard my dad talk to me this way, but then again, I never talked to my dad this way either. I huffed and started pacing, “don’t for a second pretend like you knew anything about my life then.”

“I was a little busy, Keegan.”

“Yes, yes, I know. You were working. You were providing for your family,” I pinned him with a stare, “but were you providing for your kids, or avoiding your kids?”

He looked hurt, “I never avoided you.”

I knew my words were laced with venom, but it’s like I couldn’t control it or hold it in any longer.

“Ever since mom died you let us run wild. Owen has severe anxiety from years of playing parent, Ryleigh never stays in one place more than a few weeks, Aiden is a recluse who barely has any friends and spends more time working on projects in the garage then is healthy, Nolan is reckless and has severe attachment issues, and Maeve feels like she has to be happy all of the time so everyone else doesn't fall apart. We’re barely holding it together. We needed you. You weren’t there.”

“What about you?” He asked quietly.

“Me?” I laughed, “I run dad. I am so afraid of conflict and disappointment that I get the hell out of dodge before I can get hurt. I am so afraid of being left that I hurt the man I loved without even hearing him out.”

He looked at me confused. I wasn't making any sense and was dangerously close to outing Luke and I in a way that I would regret. My eyes stung as every little thing I had kept buried for so long came bursting out of me like the exorcist.

“You patted my head and sent me off with a credit card my entire life. But, I’ll fill you in, Dad, money doesn’t solve this.”

He sat in silence after my outburst. My chest was falling and rising, struggling to find air as I wiped my tears.

“I try to make up for it. I make sure to have you kids around the table updating me about your lives every week,” he said somberly.

“And that’s great dad, but it doesn’t erase the past.”

He looked at me with sad eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you ever talk about her?” I asked when I got the courage.

“I don’t mean not to,” he looked up at me, “it’s just hard. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try.”

He exhaled, “Your mom was just like you Keegan. She was a hardass, and stubborn as shit, and she always called me out for every little thing. Everyone she met wanted to be around her like a people magnet. The very first night I met her, I knew she was special. I saw her on the dance floor of this disgusting nightclub, not far from here, dancing with your Aunt Kerry. She had this bright smile that you could see a mile away. I swore I was going to get that girl’s number and by some grace of god she actually gave it to me. Every single day she did something that made me love her more.” He looked around the house as if it held the ghost of her.

“Everything reminds me of her, even this house. She despised our money, never wanted it and never needed it, but the look on her face when she could provide for you guys in a way that not many families could, made me work harder. When she died, I didn't want that to stop. I didn’t want to face the fact that I could never measure up to what she was for all of you. But, the thing I could do was provide. I wanted you all to have every opportunity possible to make her proud. But everything still reminded me of her. After a while it became easier to keep my head down and let you soar rather than try to step into shoes of hers that I could never fill.”

I was full on crying at this point. My dad said that I reminded him of my mother, but I felt like I’d been such a coward. If I was so much like my mother then I would face my problems head on instead of running away where I felt safe.

I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, “thank you,” I whispered.

He held me tight, “do you remember the Christmas before she died?”

I shook my head into his chest, “I don’t really remember her at all.”

He exhaled, “She had a decoration for every corner of that house. She would collect them all year long and would fill the holiday with so much magic that I almost believed in Santa as a grown man.”

I laughed as he released me, “you never put them up again?”

“I couldn’t face the memories that would we lost.”

“But what about the memories we could build in her honor?”

“Maybe we can work on that, as a family.”

Dad and I talked for a while. He told me stories about my mom and the life that she lived before we were born. We talked about the summer Maeve and I had before college. We talked about my cross-country road trip. We talked about high school and college classes, and everything that he missed out on even though he was there the entire time. The conversation made me feel connected to him and my mom in a way that I have never felt before.