Page 5 of A Forever Love

“A man after my own heart.” Clem clutches her chest, making a puppy dog eyes and eliciting another laugh from me.

“You guys have been married for how many years? Seven, eight? And you’re still so corny.”

“Romance is the spice of life, Mere. And I like all things spicy.” Clementine’s eyes sparkle with laughter.

“Before you embarrass me further in front of my daughters, I’m off to work.” Dad kisses Clementine, who’s still beaming, and then plants a kiss on my forehead. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” As always, his eyes speak louder than his words. I squeeze his waist, and he heaves a sigh. “The guys can’t wait to see you.”

And by “guys,” he means his friends from Kings Security, who all adored me like their own niece when I was growing up. I can’t even recall who first coined the term “Kingsmen” for them, but it stuck. Dad and Clem got married in the gardens not long after we moved into one of the houses on campus. The other houses are now occupied by Uncle Connor, Uncle Lukas, Uncle Gavin, and their families. What began as a bachelor compound is now filled with life, laughter, and love.

“Thanks, Dad. I’m happy to be home.” Guilt resurfaces, and I’m not sure what Dad sees in my expression, but his smile drops an inch.

“You’re okay, right?” His fingers instinctively trace the colorful Lily semicolon tattoo on my wrist. He had accompanied me to his former Navy buddy’s tattoo shop after my therapist had announced I didn’t need meds any longer.

“I’m perfect, Dad.” I raise my smile a notch. “Just a bit tired. It was a long journey.” Nothing triggers a parent’s worry more than realizing their kid is tired or hungry.

“Of course. You rest and we’ll talk this evening.”

* * *

The first dinner at home felt like a celebration. Dad had ordered all my local favorites, and Clem and my sisters prepared strawberry sundaes for dessert.

After returning to my old room, I settle at the vanity. When Dad, Clem, and I moved here from our old house, we decided to leave almost everything behind. Dad and I needed a fresh start, maybe him more than me. But Clem insisted that we bring at least one of Mom’s many pictures that used to fill my dad’s old bedroom. I chose the one of me in her arms when I was two. It now rests on this table next to a picture of Clem, Dad, and me from their wedding day.

“Thank you, Mom, for sending Clementine into our lives. Dad and I wouldn’t be here if not for her.”

“You underestimate yourself, Merry Belle.” Dad leans against the doorframe, his expression warm. “Sorry, I was about to knock, but the door was open.”

“Come in, Dad. But you know I don’t like that nickname.”

He gives me a tiny smile before stepping inside, holding two cups—one purple, mine; and one yellow, his. I don’t need to check that they contain hot chocolate, each topped with exactly two marshmallows.

“I got us some hot cocoa.” He tilts his head, settling on the edge of my bed.

“Thanks! I love your hot cocoa. Nothing I buy is ever as good.” I approach him, and he hands me my cup.

“Of course not. I use real chocolate and fresh vanilla beans, not that powdered stuff.”

“Where’s Clem?” I inquire after savoring a sip of the heavenly drink.

“She’s reading the girls a story about a princess trapped in a castle. It’ll be another thirty minutes before they tire out. Last night, I fell asleep while reading, and they kept nudging me awake. At one point, I think Poppy even started flipping the pages while reciting the story. She can’t read, but she’s got it completely memorized.” He shakes his head in mock annoyance, but the smile on his face says it all. He treasures those moments.

“I’m so happy to see you like this, Dad.”

My words have the opposite effect on him than I intended, his lips tightening into a thin line. “The time I spend with them also makes me realize how unfairly I’ve treated you, Mere. I missed out on everything with you. I don’t even remember reading to you when you were a kid. What were we doing then?” His grip on the mug tightens in self-directed anger.

“You used to talk to me about Mom,” I whisper, the familiar itch and heaviness returning with a vengeance.

He grimaces. “I dumped my pain on you.”

“You were grieving. I knew you were hurting.”

“Your pain was no less than mine, kiddo. I was just selfish.” His face flushes crimson, veins throbbing against his temples like rivers about to burst their banks. “I have no idea what you went through, and later, you closed yourself off from everyone—except Carter.”

It feels like someone has reached inside me and pulverized my heart in their hand.

That time and him.

“Now, when I see Poppy and Sage, I realize how perceptive girls are, even at such a young age. I don’t even know what damage my depression did to you.” He closes his eyes, grinding his teeth, and my heart breaks for him. “I wonder if I buried your pain under the weight of mine, and when you left home, you finally found your much-needed escape.”

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