Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“We got this,” Reagan claps her hands together, as I pull out of the driveway.
Ahead, the road home stretches out—uncertain, frightening, but necessary.
3
When I slide to a stop in front of Chief’s house, my lungs seize. The place, lined with Harleys, is exactly as I left it. My hands shake on the wheel. I blink back tears, trying to steady my breath. I can’t break down here. Not now. I have to face this, I can’t run any longer. Reagan is back at our hotel room; she told me I should do this one alone and I know she’s right, but having her by my side would make me feel a little better.
I get out of the car and begin crossing the street, staring at the house, waiting for my world to explode. Then, he’s there. As if he could sense me. As if he knew I was coming. He stands on the porch, his eyes shocked, locked onto mine. I pause, and then a car honks, screeching and noise swirls around me—a scream of tires. The driver yells profanities at me, but I don’t move. I just...flinch.
Chief is moving though, he is already down the stairs, boots thudding as he charges toward me. His face is twisted with a mix of fear and an unbearable pain I can’t bear to look at a second longer. He looks unchanged, still that rugged jaw, those dark waves flecked with gray, his body as large as it always was.
I take a step back.
My chest tightens so much I can’t draw air. My throat feels like I swallowed sandpaper. I want to run—away from this moment, away from all the guilt. But before I can turn, he’s closing the gap between us.
“I—” My voice shatters.
I can’t.
I can’t do this.
I spin away and break into a run, legs trembling as they carry me down the hill toward the beach, toward the shore where Travis and I once hid from thunderstorms. Where we dreamed, unafraid. He reaches me before I get there. Strong arms—familiar warmth—fold me in from behind. The scent of grease and tobacco hits me hard. Chief’s chest presses against mine as he holds me in a hug that, when I was a little girl, I craved.
He holds me so tight I can barely breathe—and I don’t want to. I’ve missed him so badly. After two long years, this is the first time I have felt safe. I forgot how he could make everything bad in the world just disappear. He always could. He took away the bad. He made me believe nothing could hurt me. He was wrong, of course, because he was one of the people who hurt me the most.
He doesn’t say anything. He just hangs onto me.
I let him.
“Daddy,” I whisper. My voice cracks under the weight of every long night I missed him. “I...I’m sorry.”
He spins me around, eyes glassy, voice low and rough. “No, you did nothing wrong, baby. I fucked up. I did this. I have paid for every fucking broken second without you.”
“I should’ve stayed,” I whisper. “I should have at least let you say goodbye...”
“You ain’t the one who fucked up. We did. You don’t owe us that apology.”
I close my eyes, leaning into his chest, trying to memorize the solid comfort of him. “I hate that he’s hurt.”
“I know, but you’re here now.”
Silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken fear. “Is he going to—” I can’t finish. My voice is raw.
Chief exhales slowly. “He’s tough. He’s fighting. Travis doesn’t give up easily.”
“I don’t know how to face him.”
Chief just takes my face in his hands. “One minute at a time, that’s all you do. Just one fuckin’ minute.”
We stay like that for a minute, broken fragments of our old selves and the weight of the present pressing in—but finally, together.
The parking lot of the hospital is half-empty, cordoned with yellow plastic fencing for some minor construction. Workers stare at me as I walk past, my sandals crunching on the dried leaves on the ground. My hands are shaking, no matter how much I frantically wipe them against my jeans to stop them. I keep my bag close to my chest all the way to the glass doors, as if it can stop the memories swirling in my mind.
Inside, the AC is so cold it hits my sweat-coated skin so hard I suck in a breath. It takes me a moment to adjust to the difference in temperature. A woman sits behind the front desk scrolling a touchscreen, her face impassive. I try to speak, but the knot in my chest tightens, and I have to cough once to get my voice working. “I’m here to see Travis Phoenix.”
She looks up at me. “So is every girl in this city, and like I told all of them, family only.”