"This is definitely the life, sweet girl, but I can't stay here forever. I have to get back to Denver." His voice carries a note of reluctance that makes my chest tighten.
"Can you at least stay until next weekend?" I know he feels like he's imposing, but nothing is further from the truth. The thought of him leaving makes the room feel colder somehow.
"Okay. I'm flying back next week, then. You and Micah have been too kind to me." He shifts on the sofa, his bad leg twitching slightly.
"Dad, you're my father. I'm going to take care of you." The words come out thick with emotion.
Dad holds my gaze, staring back at me with that fatherly warmth that’s always felt comforting. The afternoon light catches the silver in his hair, reminding me how much time has passed. "I appreciate you, Scarlett. There were so many times when you could have left me, yet you stayed."
"I was never going to leave you."
"I know, but I wish you'd never been placed in any danger. There was just too much of it, Scarlett. And as for Johnny…" His voice trails off as he looks away from me, staring through the windows where branches sway gently in the breeze. "I gave him too many chances and it nearly got us killed."
Johnny has been a sensitive subject over the last few weeks. Dad knows I told Micah to send him to that Bratva Island. He agreed, but I know he's not entirely okay with it. A shadow passes over his face whenever Johnny’s name comes up. I understand him.
Dad is the parent who stayed with us and will never let go, no matter what. But now he also knows there's a limit. A line that will never be crossed again.
He told me how Johnny tricked him into thinking he was in danger, so he rushed to his rescue. Then Anton's men trapped Dad. If that's not a lesson learned, I don't know what would be. The memory makes my stomach clench.
"Don't worry about Johnny. " I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze, feeling the familiar calluses beneath my fingers. "I don’t want you to feel bad about him. I don’t want you to feel anything. I know that's easier said than done, but you have to try. Please try for me."
Dad nods with deep conviction, his hand tightening around mine. "Of course. I'm already trying. How areyoudoing?" He touches my cheek, feeling over the ghost of my bruises. His touch is gentle, tentative. They've long disappeared, but the scars beneath will always be there, phantom pain flickering when I least expect it.
"I'm okay." I smile back at him as the truth of those words settles in my bones. "As the days have gone by, I've gotten stronger and determined. Anton isn't a threat anymore and I have Micah."
"You do have Micah. Things have a strange way of working out. Look at me now, sitting in this fancy home in the Hamptons. People would never believe that could happen to a farm boy like me." He grins, tweaking my nose, the familiar gesture making my heart swell.
"And me."
He shakes his head, the movement decisive. "No, no, Scarlett. You were born for great things. Destined for all the amazing things in this world. This is only the beginning for you. I can't wait to see what you're going to do next." Pride radiatesfrom every word. “You heard Lucy. You’re really going to be a big star.”
"Thanks, Dad.” I smile back at him, warmth blooming in my chest. Lucy was here earlier with the kind of exciting news I could only ever dream of. She got me another part in an upcoming movie with some big A-list actors. The producer heard I was going to be in Adrian’s movie and wants to meet with me next week. He said I wouldn’t need to audition for the part. It’s mine if I want it. I can’t believe it.
When Lucy was telling me about the part, I remembered that night when I was driving back from the diner in the rain and she called with bad news. That night, I felt doomed and I never thought there could ever be light and hope on the other side of the darkness. But it’s happening now.
“You’re going to have everything you want and more.” Dad taps my knuckles.
“Thanks for believing in me.”
"Always, my love."
We hug and I breathe in his familiar scent of woodsmoke and aftershave, then footsteps sound at the door. I look up and find Micah standing there smiling at us, his presence filling the doorway.
"Go to your husband." Dad motions to Micah, giving my hand one last squeeze.
I get up and fly into Micah's arms, his solid warmth enveloping me. "You're back."
"I am. I missed you" His voice rumbles against my cheek.
“I missed you, too. I’m glad you’re back before dinner. Maria and I are cooking. I'm making a casserole."
"So I've been told. Maria said the kitchen's all yours when you're ready. I thought I could help." His hands settle at my waist, warm and steady.
"You want to help?"
"Absolutely. I'm sure you could find something for me to do." A playful glint lights his eyes.
I laugh when he slips an arm around me and gaze back at Dad, who is smiling at us, contentment radiating from his expression. I look back at Micah and take his hand. "Come on. You can make the sauce."