Page 71 of Tangled Desires

“Not a word.”

My stomach twists, a knot that’s been sitting there for years, and it’s not going anywhere. He exhales sharply through his nose, a sound that says everything. “Pumpkin, don’t ever feel bad for her actions. She made the choice to walk out on us. She left us. That’s on her, not us. We’re better than that.”

Better than her? Damn straight we are. I’ll never understand how she could treat him the way she did. My dad—my rock, mywhole damn world—did nothing but love her, and she threw it all away like yesterday’s trash.

What kind of cold, heartless bitch does that? She didn’t just leave him; she leftme.Her own child. Nah, screw her. She doesn’t deserve the space she still rents in my head.

“What’s brought this on?” he asks, side-eyeing me like he’s already got half the story.

I snort. “Something at work reminded me of her. That’s it. Nothing worth unpacking.”

He nods, slow and deliberate. “Well, don’t let it fester. Life’s too short to waste on people who’ve already checked out.”

We sit there, Seinfeld’s laugh track filling the silence, until he turns to me, tilting his beer. “How are you doing, though? And the little one?”

I rub my belly absentmindedly, shrugging. “We’re good. Mostly. Just taking it one day at a time.”

His brow furrows. “You know I just want what’s best for you, right? This whole thing with Harrison… I hope it works out. For both of you.”

I want to say something, but the words are trapped, tangled up with feelings I won’t name. What am I supposed to do with them? Lay it all out? Tell him about Harrison’s past? Not a chance. I sigh instead, mustering a small smile. “You didn’t raise a weak woman. I can handle myself, Dad. Things’ll work out how they’re supposed to.”

“Damn right you can, and they will.” He leans back with a satisfied grunt.

Eventually, I stretch, pushing off the couch. “Alright, I’d better head out.” As I dig through my bag for my keys, his voice cuts through the quiet.

“Still rocking the ribbons, huh?”

“Well, I only learned from the best.”

“Yeah, when I couldn’t figure out a braid to save my life,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Lucky for me, ribbons were easier to tie.”

“They’re our thing now,” I say simply, tugging one lightly. He smiles, resting a hand on my shoulder for a brief second before stepping back.

“Drive safe, darlin’.”

“I will.” I give him a small wave, sliding into my car. As I pull away, his silhouette lingers in the rearview mirror, standing there like he always does, watching until I’m out of sight.

23

If only you knew - Alexander Stewart

Some days, shit just crawls out of the past and sits on your chest like it owns the place.

Today’s one of those days. But it’s because of the events that lead up to this. It started with the supplier screwing me over, not having the parts ready for a job. Then I get a call from Dain—a here-and-there customer—asking when the last time I saw my old man was. The words hit like a punch to the gut, every hair on my body standing on end.

And yesterday? While I was out, I could’ve sworn I saw him. My father. Just a glimpse—enough to set my heart racing and my mind spinning. The same worn-out leather jacket, the sameslouched posture. It wasn’t him; I know that now. But for those few seconds, it didn’t matter. The damage was already done.

And it’s fucked with me real bad.

My hands are slick with grease as I swipe them on a worn rag, eyes fixed on the engine of my Subaru Impreza—my pride and joy. This car has been my project for years, a transformation from a neglected heap of junk to a roaring beast. Joe handed me the keys one day with a shrug and said,“If you can fix it, she’s yours.”It wasn’t easy. It took countless hours, buckets of sweat, Michael’s constant smartass remarks, and more swearing than I’d like to admit. But piece by piece, I rebuilt her, and now, she’s everything I imagined—a testament to stubborn determination and a hell of a lot of patience.

“So, you gonna tell me why you’re acting like such a dick today?” Michael strolls up, cigarette hanging off his lip, flicking his lighter. He offers me one, and I wave him off.

“Why are you here?”

He squints at me through the smoke. “What’s your problem?”

“Don’t start.”

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