Page 131 of Forgive You

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, and I won’t force it out of you. But you have to talk to someone.” He slowly sets each piece of bacon down on the plate with paper towels.

“I’m fine.”

He finds my eyes with a stern expression. “You are not fine. You are carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and even though you don’t wanna talk to me, you have to get it off your chest.” He picks up the plate, motioning for me to take a seat before he sets it down next to the pancakes. “You pick who, but the level of stress that’s hidden underneath your beautiful face is killing your old man. It’s always heavier if you have to carry it all yourself.”

Unease creeps into my muscles, accompanied by shame. We both sit down, him in front of me, and he starts making me a plate just like he used to.

“People will get hurt if I talk.” I watch while he takes two pancakes and adds bacon, blueberries, and maple syrup before setting it back in front of me, looking like something Instagram worthy.

“People are already getting hurt.” His eyebrows furrow. “Youare already getting hurt.”

“I can handle it.” I pick up my cutlery, though I can't get myself to take a bite.

He takes my hand and squeezes, my throat aching instantly as I push back the tears that fight behind to get out. “I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to. Sharing your problems doesn’t make you weak. Trying to solve them on your own does. Doing nothing about them does.”

I want to tell him everything. And I will. But my gut is telling me to have more patience. To see what my options are and talk to a lawyer so I can figure out what will be the best option forhim. I can’t live with the thought of my actions tainting his company in any kind of way.

“There’s just so much going on, Daddy. So much that could be ruined.”

He sighs. “Whatever it is, it’s not worth destroying your own life for.”

“Not even to protect the ones I love?”

He shakes his head, and I run my finger below my eye to quickly catch a tear. “If they love you back, they won’t allow it.”

I know they won’t. But isn’t that part of the problem? That telling my dad will make him take action that could possibly turn into consequences even worse than what they are now? That telling Jason could possibly end not just Jacob in jail, but Jason too? Or worse? Kill his reputation, and his business right behind it?

“Keeping your problem to yourself will only make it worse, honey.” He continues, letting go of my hand. “Two people see more than one. Remember that.”

He takes a sip from his coffee, then gets up. “I’m going to the office. Will you be here for dinner tonight?”

The question hurts a little, but I deserve it, since I up and left without a word the last time I was home. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. I will let your momma make some ginger peach chicken.”

I beam up at him and the mention of my favorite dish. “Oh, that would be amazing. Thank you.”

He rounds the table, kissing the top of my head. “Anything for you, Jules.”

The warmth of his lips reminds me of when I was just a little girl, my throat swelling all over again.I really missed my parents, my home, being here.

“Have a good day, Daddy,” I say as he ambles out of the kitchen.

“Have a good day, Jules. Oh, and honey?” I twist my head to face him and find a knowing expression on his face that lifts my eyebrows. “I know you didn’t steal my money.”

It’s a sentence I didn’t know I needed to hear, words that evoke a waterfall of emotion to vibrate through my body. He winks, then walks out, not waiting for me to reply. I hold my breath until I hear the front door fall shut again, and then I break.

I sob, tears of relief but also of pain streaming down my eyes and onto my pancakes.

My dad believes me.

I gave him absolutely no reason to, didn’t plead my case in any kind of way, but still, his trust in me, his loyalty, is unprecedented. Why did I ever doubt that?

I know why. I let Jacob get into my head so deep that I couldn’t even see the truth anymore. I forgot how many people would fight for me if I trusted them enough with my worries, and even when I didn’t, I didn’t trust them enough to make the right decisions.

But my dad is right. Two people see more than one. Two people hear more than one. Two people can come up with better solutions than one.

I take another sip of my tea, the warmth calming my senses before I dig into my pancakes with a newfound confidence.

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