AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re not the only one with friends,” I smart back.
His lips turn upward. “You made friends?”
How can I be mad at him when he’s so excited over the fact that I’ve made friends? His smile is contagious.
“Yeah. Kind of.”
His grin widens. “Good, Henley. I hope you invite them over soon.”
I nod. “Sure.”
“You ready?”
I stand up from the bed. “Are you going to tell me about living here before?”
His face pales and his body stiffens. “That is a conversation for another day.”
Seeing the pain on my dad’s face, I let it go. Whatever his reasons were for leaving here, they aren’t for me to know today. I can wait until he’s ready to share the story with me.
I reach my arms around him, putting my head on his chest. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tightly against him.
“Let’s get going,” Dad says after a moment.
I follow him out to his SUV, getting in the passenger side. I wonder where we’re going. My dad has been a recluse his entire life. He’s never so much as hung out with a work friend or went on a date with anybody while I was growing up. I can’t imagine who we’re going to eat with tonight.
My stomach muscles tighten as we take off.
Why do I get the feeling that there is so much more to this town than my dad is letting on? There is so much history here. And if he has friends here, why did he ever move? Why did he never make connections in New York?
As curious as I am, I can’t make myself bring it up. Not after seeing the pain on his face. Whatever happened here hurt him dearly.
“Who is the friend we’re going to meet?” I ask, noticing we’re not heading toward the highway but instead further down the gravel road we live on.
“A guy I grew up with—Adam. He has seven kids. A couple of them are around your age.” He keeps his eyes on the road.
“Seven kids?” My eyes widen. “That’s a lot.”
Dad shrugs. “Not around here. Pretty much all my friends growing up had four or more siblings.”
“What about you?” I raise an eyebrow, turning toward him.
“No. Not me.” He lets out a breath. “My, uh, parents were killed shortly after I was born. I was raised by my grandparents.”
My heart aches for him. “Dad, why have you never told me that?”
He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “It never seemed like the right time to talk about it. I wanted you to have a happy life.”
He wanted me to have a happy life, so he didn’t tell meanythingabout his past life. Just how sad was it to live here? And why did he move back if there are so many painful memories? All my thoughts about demanding answers from him vanish. I don’t want to hurt my dad.
The house we’re going to is less than half a mile from ours. Dad pulls onto the long, gravel driveway that leads to the house. It’s hidden by thick pine trees. In front of the house, there are six different vehicles parked. I spot two kids playing in the front yard. They both stop what they’re doing as we get out of the car.
I brace myself for an assault of voices in my head, but there are none. The kids look at my dad and me with wide eyes, but they say nothing.
Interesting—more people that I can’t read.
We walk up the steps onto the front porch. My dad opens the screen door and knocks.
The house is a large, three story home. There is nothing spectacular about the architecture—it looks like every other house I’ve seen in this town, just on a larger scale. I guess since these people have seven kids, they need a big house.
