Page 49 of Come Home to Me

Sarah

Being in Brookside hasn’t been easy, but it’s been worth it. I’ve swallowed a lot of pride and asked forgiveness for the many, many things I’ve said and done over the years. Old wounds that have never fully healed keep getting torn open and it feels like all I do is bleed.

But I’m not alone.

My family has made apologies and admissions of their own and the more we’ve had a chance to see the problem from all sides, the easier it is to make amends. I end each day raw and exhausted, but I think we’re healing.

All of us.

As Dad gets stronger, I manage to explain how much it hurt when he told me Colton’s girlfriend was more a part of the family than I was.

I explain what I saw at David’s wedding, the obvious love he had for my brother’s new wife, the love I wanted for myself. I tell them I couldn’t bring myself to see my father look at Tessa that way, and that’s why I missed Colton’s wedding.

I try to talk about the baby. The tiny little baby I was too young to have, but couldn’t imagine getting rid of and then lost anyway. Years of hurt and rage and sorrow choke me and my father flinches under the weight of it all, but damn if he doesn’t listen.

I apologize to Tessa. I apologize to David. I apologize to Colton. I apologize to my parents.

And they apologize to me.

I finish the days worn, but better.

Weary, but strong.

Would I have gotten here if it wasn’t for Frank? Would I have had the strength to be this honest with my family? I don’t even have to think about the answer. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I hadn’t met him, I’d be sitting by myself, half-drunk and fully medicated, mourning a life I ran away from, blaming everyone but myself. I’ve spent today sending gratitude Frank’s way, waiting for a quiet moment so I can call him and tell him just how glad I am for his influence.

The moment Colton pulls to a stop in the driveway, I bound out of his truck, phone already in hand. My brother and his wife step past me on the way into their newly finished house, where I’ve been staying in a guest room that still smells of paint and sawdust. I lift a hand as I perch on the top step of the porch and press the phone to my ear.

Normally, Frank picks up immediately. Tonight, he misses both the first and second ring.

“Hey.” His voice is heavy when he finally answers, but I smile anyway.

“God, it’s so good to hear your voice.” I run my fingers over the porch step, feeling the grain of the wood bump against my skin. Some evenings, I’m so tired of sharing that Frank does all the talking. Others, like tonight, I can’t wait to tell him all the things my family and I worked through.

“Likewise.” The one-word answer is out of character, but his voice is so bland, he must be tired. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s good. Improving daily. Looks like they’re going to send him home soon and don’t expect he’ll have many lingering issues.” I tell him about today’s conversations, about the apologies. “It’s not perfect, but it’s better. It’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. And it’s all because of you.” I tell him everything I’ve been thinking, beaming as I express my gratitude to the one person in the world who stopped long enough to see me and call me on my bullshit.

There’s a long pause before he replies and when he does, everything still seems wrong. “Good,” he finally says. “I’m glad.”

These short, cold answers aren’t like him and worry settles onto my back, clutches at my shoulders, and starts whispering in my ear. “Hey,” I say, drawing my brows together. “Are you okay?”

He laughs and it’s so out of character, so harsh and bitter, that I sit up straight. “No, Sarah, I’m not okay.”

His voice is thick.

Slurred.

Like he’s trying to speak through cotton.

Like he’s drunk.

“What happened?” I ask, immediately on edge.

“I got fired. That’s what happened. Bree told Brian Kent that you left because of me, because I broke your heart, and they believed her. They weren’t even a little interested in hearing my side of things. She won. That crazy bitch finally won.”

“Oh, Frank. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he replies though I can tell he’s nowhere close to fine.

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