Page 84 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

“And?” I repeated, unsure where she was going with this.

“Did you want them?” she pressed.

I let out a long breath and shook my head. “No. Not really. But Leah did.” I stuffed my hands into my pockets, looking away. “It was one of the things that tore us apart, if I’m being honest.”

Merritt didn’t say anything, just kept walking beside me, waiting for me to continue.

“Your dad,” I started, glancing down at her. “He called me a fool for not wanting kids.”

Her head tilted, and she gave me a soft, questioning look. “He said that?”

“Yeah,” I said, letting out a dry chuckle. “We were talking one day about a fight Leah and I had over it. He told me I didn’t understand what I’d be missing out on. That being a dad was the greatest honor and privilege of his life.”

I stopped walking, looking out at the ocean as I spoke. “He told me about the first time he saw you. The way your little hand wrapped around his finger. He even told me about your first diaper change. Said it was a disaster but a precious memory nonetheless.”

I glanced back at her, expecting to see a smile. Instead, she was crumbling. Tears streamed down her face and her lip quivered as she tried to hold it together.

“Oh shit,” I muttered, stepping closer to her. “Merritt, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have⁠—”

She shook her head, trying to brush her tears away, but they just kept coming. “It’s not you. It’s me. I—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her hands to her face, taking a shaky breath before letting it all spill out. “I know I let him down, Kannon. And it kills me to think he was talking about me like that—how much he loved me—when I wasn’t even making the time to see him.”

“He knew you loved him,” I said, hoping it would give her some comfort.

“I knew he was struggling. I knew he needed me. But I kept my head down, kept grinding at work, convincing myself I’d make it back to him soon. I made excuses. I had to work to keep paying for the home for him. I always planned to visit this weekend or that weekend. Every time, something came up or I would make up some excuse that kept me from going. And then—” She let out a small, broken sound that tore through me. “And then the years passed, and poof. He was gone. Just like that. And I… I didn’t do enough. I didn’t rise to the occasion.”

Her sobs shook her shoulders. All I could do was pull her close. I cupped her face in my hands, brushing away her tears with my thumbs. “Hey. Hey,” I said softly, trying to steady her. “You were a wonderful daughter, Merritt.”

She shook her head, choking on a sob. “No, I wasn’t.”

“You were,” I insisted, my voice firm. “Gary adored you. He wouldn’t have talked about you the way he did if he didn’t believe that. He was proud of you—not for your drive or your work ethic, but for your heart. Because it’s a good one. You’re good, Merritt. Like him. To your core.”

Her hands trembled as she clutched the front of my shirt, holding on like I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“Life’s unfair as hell sometimes,” I went on, my throat tightening. “But you didn’t do anything wrong by living yours. You didn’t. Busting your ass for what you wanted doesn’t make you a bad daughter. Like I said, he was so proud of you.”

She shook her head again, tears still falling. “But I don’t think I was going after what I wanted, Kannon. I think I was playing it safe.”

I frowned, the weight of her words sinking in. “Then what did you want?”

She looked up at me, her eyes reflecting the moonlight and so much pain it nearly knocked the air out of me.

“You,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I wanted you.”

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, and for a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. The only thing I could do was stare into those tear-filled eyes and wonder how the hell I had ever let her go in the first place.

I felt a pang deep in my chest, as if each word she spoke reverberated through my very bones.

“I wish one of us would have had the balls to say something back then,” I said with a sigh.

She shook her head. “I don’t know if that would have changed anything. We were young and dumb and both of us were pretty damn stubborn.”

I chuckled. “All true.”

We continued walking toward lights and a lot of activity. I could see street vendors selling trinkets and various food. She grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to one of the stands. Colorful glass bottles and seashells were all lined up. She picked up one and turned it this way and that.

“Handmade.” The vendor beamed, a toothy grin spreading on his wrinkled face under his broad hat. “Old soda bottles, sea glass, anything I can find on the beach. I gather them, clean them, and then transform them into these.”

Merritt held the bottle up to the pale lamplight. The play of colors on her face made her look ethereal. Her fingers traced the smooth contours of the bottle before putting it back on the stand. “It’s beautiful,” she said.