Page 133 of Freefall

“For God’s sake.” I shove it against his chest. “Put it on your desk. Hang it in your house. Do whatever you want with it.” I gesture back toward the wall. “It doesn’t work up there.”

We stare at each other, my breath still coming out in harsh bursts. I brace myself for the inevitable lecture. For the irritation and disappointment. Instead, understanding crosses his face.

He walks past me, closes the door, and sits in his desk chair. Then he sets the frame on the desk between us. “I did that on purpose.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Excuse me?”

“I know what it feels like.” When I don't say anything, he adds, “To believe something terrible will happen if everything isn't exactly where it's supposed to be.”

He exhales slowly. “I’ve dealt with OCD for years. Since I was a kid, really, but it got much worse after…” He trails off.

I give him a knowing look. “I lost her too, you know.”

“I know.” His expression changes. “I should have seen the signs sooner. Emory always says we’re alike.”

He studies me for a moment, then leans back in his chair. “I finally started seeing a therapist after Emory suggested it. Although suggested might be a generous word. Anyway, she made me list things that triggered the urge to straighten or control something. Then she told me to choose one thing and leave it intentionally wrong.”

My eyes slide toward the frame now sitting on his desk.

“So you hung an extra picture in your office and left it slightly crooked?”

“Was it crooked?” His expression remains perfectly neutral. “I hadn’t noticed.”

There’s the faintest glint in his eye. Did my father just make a self-deprecating joke?

“So you knew I had it too?”

“I suspected.”

“And you kept the frame there to what? Taunt me?”

“Not necessarily.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It didn’t have anything to do with you. Not at first, but then I wondered if you’d notice.”

I turn toward the door. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Because of Harper?”

I freeze, then whirl around and brace both hands on the mahogany desk. I stare at my father. He stares back.

“Emory fucking told you?” I finally say.

“She didn’t need to.” He barely reacts to my tone. “I may be old, but I built a cybersecurity company from the ground up. I know how to find information, Nate.”

My brows knit together. “How long have you known?”

“About Harper?” He considers the question. “Since you came home from college one day looking like someone hung the moon for you.” The light in his eyes dims a little. “And then again when you came home looking like someone had ripped it out of the sky.”

My anger falters.

“As for recently, it didn’t take a rocket scientist.”

I should leave. I should tell him it’s none of his business, go back to my office, and bury myself in work until I can breathe without feeling her absence in every exhale. But I don’t. For the first time in my life, I willingly sink into the chair across from him.

“I fucked up, Dad.”