Page 48 of He Falls First

“Let her go,” I hear Dad grumble, his voice trailing off as I step into the darkness.

“Wait up, Liz!” Marianne’s voice follows me down the driveway, and by the time I reach my car, she’s right beside me.

“Let me drive,” she offers, taking the keys from my trembling hands.

We’re silent during the short drive, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. When we finally pull over, Marianne turns to face me.

“Guess my little sister’s finding her voice, huh?” There’s some amusement, maybe even pride, in her voice. Even though she’s looking at me like she thinks I might be a bit of a wack job.

“Dad doesn’t want someone else controlling me?” I say bitterly. “Yet he’s the one trying to dictate my dating life. Can he be any more hypocritical?”

“True.” Marianne nods. “But that’s not the only reason he’s being hypocritical.”

There’s something in her tone that makes me sit up straighter. “What do you mean?”

“Dad…” She hesitates, then lets out a breath. “He wasn’t faithful to Mom, Lizzy. He had affairs. Lots of them, over the years.” She sounds angry. And sad.

“Affairs? Dad?” The ground tilts a little beneath me. “With who?”

“With women at his offices. Younger women. Assistants.”

Each word drops my heart a little further until it’s all the way in my stomach. Marianne’s hands grip the wheel so tight her knuckles turn white.

All this time, I thought I knew my father. Thought he was just ol’ Samuel. Flirty, sure, but ultimately harmless.

My mouth falls open, and a wave of nausea hits me. I close my eyes, trying to keep the last of my dinner down. This is not the father I know—or thought I knew.

“His cheating is why they divorced,” Marianne adds quietly. “Mom never told you because you were the baby. She didn’t want you to know. But I saw enough.”

My heart is pounding. “And he has the nerve to lecture me about Hendrix?”

“Exactly. Hypocrite, just like we said.”

“God, Marianne,” I whisper, the world spinning.

I think about Hendrix, about us. So there’s a reason Dad said what he said about how bosses see their lowly assistants. It was because he could relate—to Hendrix. Does he have a point, then? What does this say about us?

“Is he right?” I whisper. “Am I just repeating history?”

Marianne reaches over and squeezes my hand. “No. But maybe you should just be careful, okay?”

Careful? I haven’t been careful at all, it feels like. But I nod, assuring Marianne that I will be.

“Elizabeth, listen to me,” she says firmly, reaching across the console to squeeze my hand. “You are not Mom. And Hendrix is not Dad. You decide what’s real for you. Don’t let anyone—especially not Dad—tell you how to feel, okay?”

“Okay,” I manage, squeezing her hand back.

But deep down, I’m not sure of anything anymore. Not my father, not Hendrix, not even myself.

I let out a blustery sigh. Least of all myself.

Chapter 19

Hendrix

“LocalLink is the future, gentlemen,” I say firmly, gripping the edge of the conference table. “It’s not just a digital platform; it’s a lifeline for small businesses.”

Across from me, the board members sit in their high-backed leather chairs like judges at a tribunal. Their faces are drawn into scowls and frowns, as if their brains are translating terms like “community-based innovation” into insults against their mothers.

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