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Air pulls into his nostrils, even as his eyes stay completely resolute. “Do you want to know the truth?”
I blink hard.
Do I?
I thought I did, but now I’m unsure.
Determination rolls across my shoulders, straightening them, and a “yes” escapes my lips.
“I wanted to tell you…” He starts and I wait because I’ve already heard this.
The longer he stalls, collecting his thoughts, the more my throat burns in realization. Whoever this person is, he cares for them. I see it as easily as I’m able to distinguish Aiden’s different cries.
It may have started off casually, but it’s not that way any longer. This person is different. Important.
“We’ve been seeing each other for a bit,” he decides, confessing something finally.
My anxiety comes back in full swing. “How long is a bit?”
Am I overreacting? Possibly. Do I care? Not a chance.
He stretches his arms between us, his palms flattened like they’re in surrender. “Only about six months.”
My teeth could turn to dust, they’re so tight. I’ve been back for a month and a half, and he’s never uttered a word. Not one.
“Why did you lie?”
His nostrils flare at the very mention of deceit. “I did no such thing.”
I snort and it comes out as cynical as I feel. “Well, you weren’t very forthcoming with the truth either.”
“I have never lied to you, Hailey,” he voices with more strength. His stress controlled…barely. “I honestly wasn’t sure if you could handle the news. You didn’t take it well after your mother and I separated, and I didn’t want to upset—”
My nostrils flare. “Do not use that as an excuse!” I demand irately.
My insides burn with acid and spite.
Dad’s hand finds the bridge of his nose while he attempts to regulate his breathing. Even this almost seems too much right now.
I take an ounce of pity on him only because he’s my father.
“You can’t keep things like this from me, Dad.” My head and heart quiet on an equal front to the storm of emotions moments ago. “I don’t want to be left out of the loop,” I confess, as gutted as I am devastated.
The lines of worry that settled above his brow draw into ripples instead of the creviced craters of earlier at my empathy.
“Her name is Megan and I think you’d really like her.” His eyes turn molten at the mention of her name, and it unnerves me as much as it splinters something in my chest. If I questioned before if this woman means something, it’s been confirmed now.
My pulse races and with each new inhale, my breathing turns choppier. All he’s said is that her name’s Megan and it’s as if my heart’s been probed and jump-started into overdrive with a cattle prod.
The sliver of hope that every child has of their parents reconciling shatters right before me. Completely obliterating the fantasy at the mere mention of a name.
A broken gasp leaps from the depths of my stomach. For what? I’m not entirely sure. Instantly I’m brought back to the years prior when I’d lain curled in a ball, a prisoner to my bed. Where I would’ve screamed had I had any air in my lungs.
“I-I need to go,” I stutter. “The tournament. I need to leave.” The mess of words tumbles out, strung together in my desperation to retreat. I’m not needed at check-in for at least an hour, but I can’t stay here.
My head is an inflated balloon, one more exhale of air away from completely bursting. What’s wrong with me? What’s happening?
Hammering, it’s as if someone has taken a drill to my chest with the way it thrashes.
