Page 130 of Forgive You

I pull into the driveway of the house I grew up in, parking behind my dad’s SUV.

For a couple of minutes, I take in my surroundings.

I love this house.

It’s not big, just a single-family home with a two-car garage, but I’m glad my folks never considered going bigger, even when business picked up. The house is white with blue window frames, and there’s a small porch on the right side of the front door with two rocking chairs, one for Mom and one for Dad.

And that tree. I smile at the big red maple that has been growing bigger and bigger since I was a kid until now, the tip reaching higher than the house itself.

My limbs feel jittery, but knowing the familiarity that’s waiting for me inside, I put on my big girl pants and grab my suitcase from the trunk.

With a pounding heart, I ring the doorbell, even though I have the key, and I impatiently wait for the door to fly open.

When it does, deep brown eyes blink back at me from behind glasses, reminding me of the soil that’s housing the red roses in front of the porch. His salt-and-pepper hair has become a little bit more gray than the last time I saw him, but it’s still thick, styled neatly on his wrinkled head.

He’s still in his work clothes, wearing a white polo and dark blue trousers. Shock flickers through his expression, and I don’t dare to speak until they soften, the littlest smile curving the corner of his lips.

“Hi, Dad.” The words hurt as my throat thickens just looking at him. “I know I fucked up, but please don’t ask questions. Can I stay here for a couple of days?”

His smile expands, holding out his hand to take my bag from me.

“This is your home. You can stay as long as you like.”

****

The next morning, I wake up with a heart that still aches like it’s been pulled through a shredder, but also getting nursed back to health just waking up in my old room. Falling asleep in the house I grew up in has healing abilities I don’t think you find anywhere else. It feeds me a sense of comfort that boosts my confidence.

I have a plan.

Today, I’m going to find a lawyer and see what my options are. As soon as I know that, I can decide how much I can tell my dad, just to prevent him from murdering Jacob, which I know he will once he knows everything.

I get out of bed and strut down the stairs, following the smell of freshly baked bacon until I walk into the kitchen.

“Good morning.”

My dad turns around from the stove, all dressed for work, a beaming smile aimed my way. “Good morning, honey. You want some pancakes and bacon?”

My stomach roars in reply.

“Yes, please.” I take out a mug from the cabinet and make myself a fresh cup of tea.

“You wanna talk.”

My eyes bulge as I rest my ass against the counter, staring at his back with my warm mug between my hands. “No.”

He nods, turning over a piece of bacon with his tongs. “I missed you.”

And just like that, he glues another piece of my heart together.

“I missed you too. And Mom. Where is she?”

“Out with the girls. Manis and pedis or something. Look–”

Oh, Lord.“I thought I said I didn’t wanna talk,” I interrupt with a little whine.

“You’re right.” He smiles, whipping his head back to me. “But I don’t really care. No offense.”

I groan, sipping my tea. “None taken.”

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