Page 98 of Break Me

“It’s just Wolf and me,” I continue, my voice steady. “And the quiet. It’s the kind that lets us choose each other without the world demanding our attention.”

I smile, small and unguarded. “I wake up knowing who I am. Knowing where I am. Knowing what matters.” My voice softens. “I didn’t realize how much of myself I’d been editing until there was nothing left asking me to.”

“I don’t pretend to understand how you two found your way to each other or why it had to be hidden.” He hesitates before continuing. “That part still sits wrong with me.”

I don’t interrupt.

“And I won’t lie,” he adds, quieter now. “The age difference. The history he carries. I know exactly what kind of life comes with it because I’ve lived it.”

“I know,” I say softly. “I grew up in that life. I didn’t just watch it from the outside.” I take a breath. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should’ve trusted you with the truth instead of letting you find out the way you did.”

He stays quiet, listening.

“But my heart didn’t come to this with rules,” I continue, steadier now. “It didn’t understand age or history or what was supposed to make sense. It just recognized him.”

I meet my father’s gaze. “Love doesn’t understand boundaries. It doesn’t ask permission. It just shows up and asks you to be brave enough to answer it.”

He lets out a slow breath, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the table.

“I don’t like that you felt you had to hide,” he says. His eyes lift to meet mine. “But I hear you. And I see what this did for you.”

"I did." The words come easily because they're the truest thing I've ever said. "I didn't fall into this by accident, Dad. I didn't let myself get swept away because it was exciting or easy. I chose him knowing exactly who he is."

My voice catches, but I don't look away. "And Samuel chooses me every single day."

I reach across the table, covering his hand with mine. "I know this isn't what you pictured for me, and I know it probably asks more of you than I can fully understand. But you've always taught me to look at how a person treats the people they love."

A smile tugs at my lips.

"That's what I did. I watched him. I watched the way he showed up when I needed him, the way he protected me without trying to change me, and the way he made me feel safe without ever making me feel small."

I squeeze his hand.

"You taught me what kind of man to look for." My throat tightens. "And I found him."

Dad picks his fork back up. The things he might’ve said before remain unspoken, and the tension eases.

We eat for a while after that. Dad works through his plate methodical as ever. I push my pancakes around more than I eat them, cutting off a bite here and there without much thought.

His eyes flick to my plate. Then back to my face. “You’re not hungry?” he asks, tone light, almost offhand.

“Big meals don’t seem to be agreeing with me lately,” I say with a small shrug.

He takes another sip of coffee. “You look a little thinner,” he says.

I force a smile. "I think it's all the walking."

He doesn't look convinced. "You've always walked."

“I know.” I wrap both hands around my coffee mug. “It’s been a weird few months, is all.”

“Just don’t disappear on me,” he says. “I’d hate to have to go after Wolf if you do.

"I'll eat you out of house and home over the holidays. It'll even out."

That gets a quiet grunt, less satisfied this time, but he lets it go.

We drift into lighter ground after that. He asks if the road’s still rough after the turnoff, if the creek’s running high yet. I tell him it is, and that Sam keeps meaning to fix the loose board on the porch before winter sets in. He shakes his head at that and says Sam always did put things off until the last possible minute.