AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
My room feels heavy,as if the weight of my heartbreak seeped into the walls, making it hard to breathe. It had been only an hour since I watched my stepdad’s life slip away at the hospital.
An hour since I had stumbled out, tears blurring my vision as I sought refuge in the solitude of home. I needed a moment, away from the sympathetic gazes, to let the reality of it all sink in.
Lying in bed, I stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Thoughts of him, of the times we shared, of the laughter and warmth he brought into my life, swirl around my mind, threatening to engulf me. The quiet of the night presses in, and I know I can’t bear it alone.
My fingers tremble slightly as I scroll through my contacts until I find his name: Eric. There is something about him that feels kind, genuine, comforting. Hesitating only briefly, I press the call button, waiting for him to answer.This is probably stupid.I go to hang up until I hear his voice on the other line.Crap.
“Hello?” His voice comes through, laced with surprise.
“Hey, it’s Hailey,” I manage, my voice wavering more than I intended. “My stepdad just passed, and I was wondering… could you come over for a little while? I don’t really want to be alone right now.”
There’s a pause on the other end, as if he is debating his response. “Sure,” he finally says, his voice cautious yet compassionate. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling grateful for his willingness. “I’ll text you my address.”
* * *
I lay in bed,the silence magnifying my emotions. Fifteen minutes later, a soft knock at the door disrupts the stillness. I open it to find Eric standing there, holding a bouquet of roses.
“Hey,” he says gently, his eyes searching mine. “I brought these for you.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, touched by his thoughtfulness. His presence alone is a balm to my wounded heart. A small smile tugs at my lips despite the sadness, and I place the flowers on the counter.
“Are you alright? Do you need me to help with anything?” he asks softly.
“Yeah, I’ll be OK. I just… need some company.”
He nods. “Of course, I’m here for you.”
We ease onto the couch, a wordless agreement passing between us. The stillness holds a rare comfort, prompting me to open up about my stepdad. I talk about the memories we had together, the laughter and love that now mingles with emptiness. Eric sits there next to me, a bastion of unwavering support. His mere presence is a grounding force for my tumultuous emotions.
“He was something else, you know?” I manage a soft laugh, though tears well up at the corners of my eyes. “Taught me how to drive, to cook—those dad jokes that never failed.”
A sympathetic smile curves his lips. “He sounds like a good man.”
“He was.” The simple sincerity in his words echoes the comfort I find in his company. “And now I have no dad… sort of,” I admit.
He looks up at me, his expression a mix of curiosity and confusion. “What do you mean, sort of?”
I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “Ray is the one who raised me. He had earned the right to walk me down the aisle and give me away, not my biological dad.”
Eric’s brows furrow in understanding as he pieces together the fragments of my story.
“My biological father,” I begin, my voice soft and tinged with bitterness. “He hasn’t ever been the dad I needed him to be. When I was a kid, he was always there but never really there, you know? He would go through these phases of being distant, happy, and then suddenly, he’d explode.”
I look down at my hands, my fingers twisting in my lap. “The words he’d say… they cut deep. He would yell at me, belittle me, make me feel like I was worthless. It was like walking on eggshells all the time, never knowing what would set him off. These days, all I get are awful text messages from him,” I say, feeling the weight of those hurtful words. I can’t keep the bitterness out of my tone. I grab my phone, unlocking it to show him.
“You don’t have to show me,” he says gently, concern etched on his face.
“I want to.”
He nods, understanding my need to share this part of my life. Taking the phone from my hand, he scrolls through the messages between me and my dad. The silence in the room is heavy as he reads, his expression growing darker with each passing text.
I watch his eyes trace the hurtful words, the anger, the lack of compassion. “I’m so sorry,” he finally says, his voice filled with a mix of empathy and frustration.
I look at him, grateful for his understanding. “Yeah, it’s difficult. But showing you… it’s important. It’s a part of my life, a part that’s been breaking me for a long time.”
