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I pictured him, jaw set, mind racing like a detective on the scent—which, ironically, probably wasn't far from the truth. I found myself reaching for another excuse—one that didn't reek of desperation and dead ends.
I felt the weight of his unspoken questions. Kylo knew me well enough to sense when I was neck-deep in trouble. And right now, I was practically drowning.
Look, I'll explain everything over a dozen kamikazes, okay? Scout's honor.??
I typed the lie smoothly, knowing full well my next stop wasn't a barstool but a prison chair.
Scouts don't drink kamikazes, Averill.
Mine did.
I countered before signing off. The car hummed beneath me, lulling me into a false sense of solitude.
Let's just hope this little reunion is worth the price of admission. I braced myself for the confrontation ahead.
The chill of the sterile visiting room seeped through my jacket and I sat rigid on the hard plastic chair, my hands clasped tight enough to blanch my knuckles. It had been years—years since I'd been that scrawny kid with a backpack too big for her body and eyes too wide for her face. But there, in the echo of institutionalized blues and grays, I was seven all over again. The girl who thought her daddy was invincible until he was carted away in cuffs.
"Jesus," I muttered under my breath, "I need a shot of something illegal."
"Miss Winslow?" A guard's voice cut through the dread that pooled in my stomach.
I lifted my head just in time to see him usher in the ghost from my past. The man was older, his hair salt-and-pepper where it used to be jet black, lines etched deep into his weathered skin like a road map of regret. He looked smaller than I’d remembered, or maybe I'd just built him up to be a giant in my mind.
"Hi, Dad," I said, voice steady as a tightrope walker in a tornado.
His eyes—my eyes—widened at the sound of my voice, and something broke behind that hardened exterior.
Shit, were those tears? I could handle anger, disappointment, even indifference, but not tears.
"Averill..." His voice cracked, and I swore the walls themselves leaned in to listen. "You're... you've grown so beautiful."
"Comes with the territory of not being seven anymore," I shot back, more venom in the words than I intended. "You haven't seen the last twenty years of awkward phases, trust me."
He reached out, hesitated, then settled his hand back onto the table. A gesture aborted, a connection unmade. Thankfully.
"God, I—I never thought I'd see you again. I'm sorry, Averill. For everything."
"Save it," I countered quickly, uncomfortable with the weight of his gaze. "We both know you're not in here for stealing candy bars."
He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, the movement rough, like he was scrubbing away the sentiment as much as the moisture. "But, I always hoped you'd live a life beyond my mistakes."
"Living the dream, one day at a time," My sarcasm was a comfortable shield against the raw emotion that threatened to surface. "Your little girl became a PI. How's that for irony?"
"Always knew you'd do something great. You have your mother’s spirit," he said softly.
“Don’t drag her into this," I snapped and my gaze darted around the room like I could find an escape hatch somewhere between the cinder block walls.
"Sorry," he murmured and looked down at his shackled hands. "I just... I missed you."
"Join the club," I spit, but the bitterness was starting to taste old even to me. "Membership: me."
A silence stretched between us, filled only by the hum of the lights and the distant clink of chains. My throat felt tight, every instinct screaming at me to bolt, but my ass remained glued to the seat. Maybe I was hoping for answers, maybe I was just a whore for punishment.
Either way, I was there, and there was no turning back.
I leaned back in the rigid plastic chair, arms crossed, like I could physically barricade myself from the tidal waves of regret that emanated from the man across from me. The fluorescent lights of the visitation room cast a harsh glow on his already sunken skin. God, he looked like hell.
"Look, Averill, I'm sorry," he said, his voice a gravelly whisper that seemed to disintegrate before it reached my ears. "For everything."
