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What am I doing?
It does help to have my dad here. He’s a man of few words, but he’s distracting me from my feelings, and for that he’s a saint.
We listen to bands like Fleetwood Mac and Creedence Clearwater Revival. I know every song, thanks to the fine musical education he gave me when I was a kid. He also insists on paying for every fast-food meal we eat, as well as the gas in the car every time we fill up.
Old Oakley would have never let him. Old Oakley would have already Venmoed him money that he wouldn’t accept in person, knowing he probably hasn’t yet figured out how to return the funds to me through the app and will eventually give up trying.
But this time, I don’t. My parents know my financial situation is not ideal.
It’s not my fault that I’m almost broke. And I did call a lawyer sometime in the haze of this week, but I need to get some more money before I can even begin to entertain the idea of being able to afford her.
My dad hands me a Swedish Fish gummy while I’m behind the wheel somewhere near Lubbock. The sweetness on my tongue brightens my mood. No, I don’t discriminate against candies that aren’t chocolate-covered cinnamon bears.
It’s his turn to nap, but he’s restless and not able to get comfortable. While I’m eating candy, the air in the car shifts, and I know he’s going to wade through the vintage rock and sugar and get serious. “Are you going to be okay, Oaks?”
“I think I am.” I can’t bring myself to him offer a sunny, “Of course, Dad!” I swallow hard. “I’m disappointed that things in San Antonio had to end this way. But I’m going to make it work. I’d never be able to face the defensive line again if I flounder and let this get the best of me.”
I offer up a laugh, but the truth is, I probably won’t ever see the D-line for the Wolves again.
He gives me a long look and a sad smile. “That’s my girl.”
We drive the rest of the way, arriving at the Tate Longdale Lake resort close to ten p.m. The subdued lights cast a glow across the silvery lake. The sky is clear and peppered with stars.
“Wow,” my dad says as he parks the car, craning his neck to take in the tiered resort.
“I’m pretty lucky that I get to stay here,” I say.
He gives me a hug, one of those big bear ones, where the smell of his aftershave is going to cling to me. I used to hate that—I used to beg him to stop wearing so much. But now? Don’t tell him, but I kind of like it.
I squirm when he slips a couple of hundred-dollar bills into my hand before he gets into an Uber that will take him to the airport for his redeye home. “Dad, I’m an adult, you don’t need to give me money.”
But he just shakes his head and smiles. “Let me help you out, okay?”
I hug him goodbye and wave until he’s out of sight, then leave my car and walk into the lobby. “The Tates said they have a long-term room for me,” I tell the guy at the front desk.
He recognizes me. “Welcome back!” Then he frowns as he looks at his computer. “Just one moment,” he says before leaving for the room behind him.
Before long, Britta appears and even though it’s past ten at night, she’s still in a classic grey pantsuit, her hair and makeup done up neatly. I’m impressed at the staying power of her look.
“Hello, Oakley,” she says with a slight tip of her head. “We’re so glad you’re here. However, there’s a problem with your room.”
I nod. Oh, great. How can it not be clean yet? That doesn’t make sense.
“There was a fire yesterday that took out a couple of rooms.”
She pauses as I gasp.
“We’ve had to move people around,” she continues. “So I’m afraid we’ll have to send you over to the Motel 6 in Tollark for a few days until the repairs can be made.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Alec says from behind me, and the sound of his voice does something funny to my breathing.
I’ve never wanted anyone to take care of me before. I barely tolerate my parents fussing over me.
But right now, with so much loss, I welcome the thought.
I turn to see his face, and his glance takes in the whole of me. “You made it,” he says, a tired smile on his face. He’s wearing athletic shorts and a red and gold Patrick Mahomes t-shirt. His hair is mussed, but on him, it’s sexy. He’s definitely not conjuring up the trashy look I had going on yesterday with the messiest of my messy buns.
He takes a couple of steps towards me, and his improved gait hasn’t diminished in the days I’ve been gone.
