Page 59 of Make Me Yours

My cheeks burning, I shoot back, “So, what should we have done? Let Dad starve and die?”

“Maybe,” Weaver says, making me flinch. “If that was the only way to keep the rest of you safe. Paying for rehab or someform of treatment is one thing, something I would personally support. But paying his bills while he sits around getting drunk and destroying himself? How is that helping anyone? Even him? But especially you, the daughterheshould be taking care of?”

I rub at the tight place in my jaw, hating that a part of me agrees with him. “You don’t understand. You don’t have a family like mine. We help each other. It’s what we do.”

“Like I said, the situation doesn’t seem ‘helpful’ to me. Not to anyone. Your father is drowning, but instead of reaching for a life preserver, he’s wrapped his arms around his father and his daughter. You’ve been treading water as hard as you could with dead weight hanging from your shoulders, but it’s time to stop, Sully. For yourself and for your grandfather. Think how much less he’ll need to live on if he cuts your dad off and focuses on taking care of himself?”

“I can’t think about this now,” I say, digging my fingers into my temples. I never get headaches, but right now an ugly one is clawing into my skull. “And you can’t come in to the hospital. That’s final.”

He sighs, as frustrated as I am.

Maybe more so, since he clearly doesn’t understand why what he’s suggesting would be so hard.

I love my dad, really love him, no matter how many times he’s let me down or how strained our relationship has become over the years. I still remember the way he’d push me on the swings as a kid, the way he’d buy me a snow cone from the cart on the pier or a stuffed animal from the toy store, even when Mom said we needed to save money. I remember lying on his strong chest in the sun on the beach when I was so tiny that my hair was still white as it blew around my face, feeling so safe and loved because my daddy was there to take my nap with me.

Those things are still true and real. They live inside me even though that version of my father is gone, probably forever.

But I can’t turn my back on the man in that memory. It would be like setting the last of the goodness between us on fire.

The fact that Weaver can’t understand that makes me wonder if we’re really meant for each other, after all. I mean, I knew he didn’t have a good relationship with most of his family, but isn’t there anyone he would go that extra mile for? One person he would help no matter what? No matter how many times they failed to rise to the occasion and needed his help again?

I’m about to ask him when he says, “What if I stay in the cafeteria? I’ll grab a cup of coffee, find a dark corner, and keep my hat pulled down low. Then, if you need me, you can text, and we’ll find somewhere private to meet. I don’t want to leave you there alone. I should have thought of that before I offered my unsolicited advice at a difficult time.”

Instantly, I melt.

Maybe thereissomeone Weaver is willing to go that extra mile for.

And maybe it’s…me.

Chest aching at the thought, I nod. “Okay. That sounds good. Thank you.”

I don’t tell him that I wouldn’t really be alone at the hospital, not with my entire family there. I don’t want to seem ungrateful for his support, and there’s a part of me thatisstarting to feel “alone” without Weaver.

We don’t pull any punches with each other. We haven’t from the beginning. But with my family? I pull punches all the time. I keep secrets and soften blows and sometimes, I just lie.

I don’t like to, but when it’s the kindest choice, I do.

I lie to Gramps about how quickly I can see him slowing down. I lie to my cousin, Henna, about how many days a week I see her husband lingering at the pub for another drink, when she’s been at home alone all day with their two kids. I lieto Elaina about what the mean people in town say about her “raunchy” café and raunchier habits, and I lie to Maya about that the fact that not one of the men I hang out with has ever asked about my shy best friend.

I tell Maya tons of guys are interested, whenever she’s ready. I tell Elaina that Sweet Pussy Cafe is a great name for her bakery and she should keep it.

And I tell myself that the way the Sullivans do things is the best way because Iwantit to be the best. I want to believe that all the sacrifices I’ve made are because I’m a good daughter and granddaughter and niece and cousin, not because I’m a shmuck who’s let myself be used and abused by people too distracted by their own drama to have my best interests at heart.

My family doesn’t want to hurt me, I know that with every bone in my body. But have they hurt me without meaning to? Without even realizing what they were doing?

I honestly…don’t know.

There’s enough doubt inside that I’m not about to kick Weaver out of my life for saying the things he said. Especially when it’s obvious he was saying those things because he cares about me.

He really does care. This successful, gorgeous, supportive, sexy as hell man really does seem to love me. And I feel the same way about him. He’s everything I wasn’t brave enough to want until I met him.

But if it comes down to a choice between Weaver and my family—a very real possibility—which will I choose?

I don’t know the answer to that, either.

I only know that I need Gramps to be okay. After that, maybe I’ll have the bandwidth to take a closer look at the rest of my messed-up life.

I push the bigger questions aside as best I can, eat my now-cold sandwich, and brace myself for the worst as Weaver gets on the highway headed south toward the hospital.

---