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Chapter Twenty
BRIGGS
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My dad’s been watchingme closely for the last two days. He’s suspicious and I want to tell him about everything. My dad is a cop. What better person to ask for help from? But I vowed to not ruin Mille’s first big birthday party. After the party I’ll talk to him.
I’ll tell him everything.
The accident shook me more than anything else. The crank calls and slurs on the window I can handle. Running me off the highway is a level up. They could have killed us if I wasn’t such a controlled driver who knew the roads.
I stare out the window as Del and Tabby cover the porch with streamers and balloons. Jet and Xan are setting up a tent for games and Millie is zipping about the yard like she’s five again. I can hear her chattering through the open window, and it should make be deliriously happy to see her smile so wide, her heart so big, her cup so full of this new family that didn’t even blink when it was time to take her in. I should be happy for her.
Instead a low-level dread sinks like fog in my gut. All the shit she never signed up for. All the places I’ve dragged her to. All the ways in which her father is a broken man struggling to put himself back together. All the pain and drama of being a Ryker. Of being a Marchand.
“Seems a little overboard, doesn’t it?” Dad steps up beside me, leaning on his crutches.
“It’s Delilah,” I say knowing that no additional explanation is needed.
Dad watches me and I ignore it until my jaw is clenched and twitching.
“What, Dad?” I spin and lean a hip against the counter. “Just say it, okay.”
“Something’s going on with you, Brigitte. I can feel it. Ever since you’ve got home there’s been something hovering over you. You’re jumpy. Secretive.”
“I don’t really want to be back here,” I say and that isn’t a total lie. My dad was conveniently hit by a car which gave me an excuse to hide out here until my own situation calmed down. But it hasn’t calmed down, and now I’m itching to get out of here again, but I can’t. If I leave my father to fend for himself or take my daughter away from the father she never knew I’m going to be the bad guy.
There’s no winning this.
“Something doesn’t sit right,” he continues. “I don’t like it. I wish you’d talk to me. Your mother never did, either. Just held it all in. I can handle your silence better than I can handle your lies.”
Dad sets a gift down in front of me as I stare slack jawed. He hobbles out the back door and settles in his favorite chair. I touch the gift with the white envelope.
Little Miss Millie. Love Granddad.
The letters come in and out of focus as I struggle to process it all. The sharpness of Dad’s letters come into clear inky focus and I frown. His handwriting is neat and sharp, his letters small and slightly angled as if he prints in italics.
Quickly I set down my coffee and take the back staircase two at a time until I’m kneeling in front of my bed, reaching for the notes.
I shove open the box and find one that isn’t Moms. Comparing the note with Dad’s gift for Millie my eyes get wide.
“No way,” I say in a hushed whisper and glance over my shoulder, half expecting Mom to show up every time I’m reading her private notes.
These aren’t from my dad. The writing is completely different.
Was this before Dad? Or during?
“Who are you?” I ask the note as footsteps sound on the main stairs. I shove the notes back under the bed and jump to my feet as Millie skids into the room. Her smile washes away everything else and my world is nothing but her.
“Hey, Sweetheart.”
“Mom,” she says sharply like I’m never going to believe what she’s about to say. “There’s a chocolate fountain.”
“Wow, that’s pretty fancy.”
“A chocolate. Fountain. Mom.” Her eyes are wide, and fingers splayed as she shakes her hands. She shrieks and spins on her sneakers, clomping back down the stairs.
Out the window, the backyard is being turned into a carnival full of fun and games and wonder for Millie.
