Page 129 of Caught from Behind

Because—

Here my dad goes again.

I can tell just from his expression that I’m about to get a verbal reaming.

So much for him changing.

Something twists in my gut.

It doesn’t matter. I don’t need him.

He pushes off the wall, scowl deepening as he takes in the lot of us hobbling in his direction, but he doesn’t say anything as the guys peel off, Lake pausing with raised brows, silently asking if I want him to stay. I wave him on. I need to handle this shit on my own, need to prove to my dad once and for all that I’m not going put up with him treating me like garbage?—

“Can you believe this shit?” he asks, shoving his phone in my face.

I blink at the screen, trying to process the images in the quick flash he gave me, but it’s there and gone so quickly that I don’t.

“Some asshole is talking about Nova’s pictures online”—Nova was recently featured online in a national magazine—“and he says they’re uninspired and juvenile.” My dad makes a sound of disgust and pockets his phone. “I was with her when she took some of these. The woman finds art in the smallest details.” He scoffs and starts walking for the exit. “Certainly much better than an idiot pecking away at his keyboard.”

He’s complaining about a negative review Nova received.

What the actual fuck?

I’m unable to comprehend that for a moment, not when I was so primed for a fight, ready to yell and scream and stand up for myself.

But he’s standing up for my friend, my family.

He’s not giving me a hard time—in fact, he hasn’t since the game he and Ella attended, since that conversation with my woman. Yeah, he’s given me a few tough critiques, but none have been laced with any of the meanness from before, and I can’t disagree that they’ve been helpful.

It’s…

Like having my old dad back.

My throat goes tight.

That hope in my belly grows.

I’ve missed him.

“Gah,” he snaps, voice echoing down the hall before he marches back, tosses up his hands. “And then there’s that woman at the salon. It was bad enough she fired Ella after that terrible appointment, but the gall of her trying to switch to another stylist! Like anyone could have done better.” He shakes his head and starts off down the hall again. “I’m glad that Kit banned her from coming back. She’ll regret it. She damned well will. I’ve seen her work. I know…”

Maybe I do.

Maybe I really do have him back.

Just thinking that is like removing a thorn from the bottom of my foot, like in one instant, the small stab of pain that has been jabbing at me for years is gone.

I can walk without thinking about it.

I can be pain-free.

“Come on, son!” my dad calls. “I know what will cure those sore muscles. A dip in the lake and apple fritters.”

Shaking myself, I hurry after him as fast as my sore legs can carry me. “Absolutely fucking not on the dip in the snowmelt-fed lake?—”

He looks at me, mouth opening, argument in his eyes.

“—but hell yes on the apple fritters.”

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