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“No,” he agrees. “It won’t ever be easy. And that’s why you need to give yourself grace.” He holds me tighter to him, squeezing my shoulder to support me while we embrace in an awkward side hug. “But something tells me that’s not why you’re crying.”
“I’m not crying,” I say through sniffles.
His thumb brushes against a stray tear on my cheek, and I let out a pathetic laugh. “Nothing has changed between us. You need me? I’m here. But I can only be here if I know what you need.”
“I don’t know, Dad. I don’t know what I need.” I pull away. “An uninterrupted night of sleep, for starters.” I wince. When was the last time his face didn’t wake me, or the reliving of the nightmarish day he left us?
Dad crosses his arms, the silence wrapping us into a secluded blanket, shielded from the reality of the world. He and I have always been able to sit in silence together. It’s when we always did our best problem solving, and I know what he’s going to suggest before he even says it.
“When I leave on Monday, I’ll take the kids with me for a few weeks.”
“No,” I say through gritted teeth. “They haven’t been there since—” I shook my head.
“Exactly. They haven’t been to the farm in five years. It’s time. It’s about fucking time that you all face your fears. Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting him. It means being able to get through the day without falling.”
I rear back at his harsh words, but I know he’s right. It’s time. We all need to learn to adjust. We all need to face this new world without him, and the kids need to learn how to honor him instead of walking through life with a chip on their shoulders. Em especially. If I don’t get her shit attitude in check soon, she’s going to get kicked out of the private school his parents pay for. And that’s the last thing I need—my asshole-in-laws showing up to judge how I’m parenting.
“Fine. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Nine
Scottypoursuseacha finger of whiskey in the living room while Saoirse and Samira giggle in the kitchen. I smelled her the second Scotty opened the door. That sweet floral scent that just sets my entire body at ease. They’d been in the living room, huddled on the love seat with their heads together while they planned the wedding.
When my eyes landed on her amber toned ones, I stopped mid-stride. I knew she’d be here. Hell, I practically strong-armed Sean into telling me when and where they were meeting so that I could conveniently show up. Still, I paused, and the shock on my face had been genuine. She glanced up from the couch with pouty pink lips and bright fuck me eyes and knocked any coherent thoughts right off the tracks of my seriously simple brain.
Samira was just as surprised, though. She’d excused herself to the bathroom, and when she came out, Saoirse rushed her away. I thanked the god I didn’t believe in for putting her in my path.
Third time’s enemy action.Her words from last night play over again while Scotty stares at me expectantly. Fuck, I have to come up with a reason for being here. Especially since I left that fucking purse at the hotel again.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Cara,” I whisper. The girls are still in the kitchen, but I don’t want Samira to hear this, so I keep my voice low. My thumb mindlessly rubs along the scar on my palm.
Scotty’s face turns a pale white. We never bring this up, and for good reason. It’s best left in the past.
“What?” Scotty asks when I don’t elaborate.
I clear my throat, suddenly too clammy to think straight.Fuck. I need to get out of here. “I was just thinking about how she won’t be here. For the wedding.”
Scotty chews on his bottom lip to maintain his composure. “I’d been thinking about that.”
“I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately.”
“Me too.” He takes a sip of his whiskey.
I suppose we all are. The death of Tommy Walsh could be to blame for that. Saoirse had killed him after her kidnapping, and his last words still stuck with me. I killed his brother, Brian. I ended the life that took my sweet Cara’s. We were only teenagers when she died. I’d thought the revenge had been paid until his brother took my baby sister.
Scotty had almost been left with two women he loved gone because of what one man had done fifteen years ago. Guilt tightens my chest, forcing me to take deeper, more intentional breaths. I set the ripple into place that created all this horrible turmoil.
“Saoirse wants to figure out a way to include her,” he says, pulling me from the deafening silence of our grief. “Maybe her favorite flowers as the centerpieces. It’s been so long, though.” He sighs, hazy eyes peering at me. “Why can’t I remember her favorite flower, Dec?”
I swish the tumbler in my hand mindlessly, the image of my forever young Cara floating on stage at a ballet recital. She had her blonde hair pinned back in a tight bun, and she didn’t smile as she danced gracefully during her solo.
“Gladiolus,” I say. I’d brought them that evening. I brought them to her every time she performed, every time I took her out.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “Fuck, thank you.”
“And maybe her favorite cake?” I raise a brow.
“Lemon with blueberry mousse filling and buttercream frosting,” Saoirse said from the door frame that led from the living room to the hall.
