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"I'm in town until Wednesday. Would you like to grab lunch tomorrow?"
I shift my gaze to Judson, who tells me his plans, "I'm heading out in the morning."
"Uh, yeah, sure."
We exchange phone numbers, and he walks away, leaving me to drown in my own thoughts and confusion.
Hanna’s father is here, and my own isn’t. It’s a weird feeling. The only interaction I’ve had with my father in the past four years is the graduation invitation I sent. Not really inviting him, just a way to say fuck you, I made it.
"Well, that was unexpected," Judson gawks, his eyes widening.
"Yeah," I agree, not really sure what to say.
"Have you kept in touch with Hanna?"
"No," I growl, pushing my way through the thick crowd, heaving for air. The tightening in my throat and the uncontrollable shaking of my entire body makes me want to collapse.
I breathe my way through the attack, not wanting to show Judson how fucked up I still am. How I still get weak in the knees at just the mention of her name.
The next day, I see Judson off at the airport and pull into the restaurant we agreed on. I sit a few extra seconds outside in my truck, putting on a rigid exterior, sealing all of my broken pieces with courage that I'm not even sure I have.
I walk in to find him at a table, his eyes crash-landing on me, the edges of them tilting upward.
Just like Hanna.
I choke down my grief and pull out the chair opposite him.
"Thanks for meeting me. I know that must be hard for you."
Hard for me?
"Hanna was pretty broken up when you left. She didn't understand. I know it wasn't easy for you either. I remember the way you looked at her."
I look down at the wooden table, unable to look him in the eye, knowing they'll give me away. That I'm still madly in love with his daughter.
"She's alright, you know. You can ask me. I know you want to."
I look up, "I just wanted her to be happy. I didn't want to drag her down."
His smile is genuine, "You weren't a weight pulling her down, Jameson. You were the anchor keeping her grounded."
"I just felt like she deserved better."
He nods, "Hanna deserves the world, and back then, that's what you were to her. The world."
"I was also a liar, a fucking drunk. Someone that couldn't even get out of bed some days."
"What are you now, son?"
I laugh. He sounds like Doc.
"I'd like to think I'm better, but I don't think there are enough hours of therapy in the world to fix me."
He pulls his glass to his lips, giving me a lopsided grin, "We're all a little messed up. Even Hanna. You loved my daughter enough to put her first. You wanted what was best for her, even when it wasn't what you wanted. I appreciate you for loving her."
I remember when I thought I would go see her, the picture that is engrained in my mind.
She's moved on.
"Is it selfish if I say that I'm glad she's happy I just hope she isn't happier than when we were?" I sigh, "well, when we were good."
He laughs, "You are lightyears away from selfish. I would say that makes you in love."
"I'll always love her," I admit, the color draining from my face at the confession I just made to her damn dad.
"Just promise me that when you get done fighting for yourself, that you'll fight for her. She deserves it."
"Sir, when it comes to your daughter, I'm pretty good at abusing my promises."
