Page 82 of A Taste of Chardonnay

“It pisses me the fuck off.”

He had every right to be pissed. That man made his childhood and teen years a living hell. He was never the father Brady needed or deserved. But who knows how much time he had left on this earth? How long was someone supposed to repent before they could make progress in moving forward with their lives?

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe this is your second chance to have your dad in your life.”

He closed his eyes, jaw clenching.

I ran my fingers along the stubble, smoothing the skin until he softened beneath my touch. “He was an awful person, and nothing will ever erase that, but maybe for you and not for him… the time he has left, you can try to have a relationship with him. He’s proud of you. That alone shows me he regrets his past. Shows me in his own way, he loves you.”

“He told me he doesn’t want me to forget or forgive him.”

“Then don’t.”

“But how do I have any sort of relationship with him when I can’t let go of the past?”

“Forgetting and letting go are two different things. You can let go of the past without forgetting it. You can decide to accept the things that happened and you can no longer change, and move forward with hope the future might be a little better.”

His head fell forward like my words were too heavy to process.

I cupped his cheek, running my thumb along his jaw. “If anything, do it for yourself. He might deserve to die with what ifs, but you don’t deserve to lose the chance.”

“What if—” He shook his head and tried to turn away from me, but I grabbed him, holding him in place.

“What if what?”

“What if I actually like him?”

An unladylike snort sounded in my nose as I attempted to hold back a laugh. “There are worse things.”

This time he laughed, and it felt light and carefree.

“You good?” I asked, willing to stay in the dark, cramped garage for as long as he needed.

“Yeah,” he said, a twinkle in his green eyes, a smile on his lips. “I am.” He pulled me into his chest, his lips pressing into the top of my head. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For not letting me run.”

“You can retire your running sneakers. I hate running, and we’re in this together.” I extended my hand to him, and he clasped it, tugging me into him and tossing his arm around me.

“Let’s go meet Ron.”

We walked out of the garage, and Jack jumped up, running circles around us. “I think someone is jealous.”

“He’ll get over it.”

Jack ran ahead, sitting on the porch and waiting patiently for us. “How’s the nurse hunt going?” I asked before we made it inside.

“I’ve been having a hard time with all the hoops they’re making me jump through.”

“I’ll help you.” It wasn’t a question. Not anymore. We were a team, and I would help him whenever he needed it. I waited for the fight, the pushback, but he just squeezed me tighter.

“I’d appreciate that. The sooner Ron is back in his own home, the sooner I can get my life back and have you in my bed whenever I want.”

“Mmm, I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow.”

“What about Gold Crest?” He came to a stop just outside the front door.

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