Page 103 of Pieces

“Come in,” he calls, his voice steady.

I push the door open to find him sitting at his desk, a stack of papers in front of him. When his gaze lifts, his expression is unreadable. Then he stands, his features softening slightly.

“Daphne,” he says, stepping around the desk. “You’re here.”

“Hi, Dad,” I say, shifting awkwardly in the doorway.

“Come in.” He gestures to the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”

I nod, then take the seat, resting my hands on my lap and fidgeting. He sits back down, and for a moment, the room is filled with the sound of the heater humming softly in the corner.

“You look good,” he says finally, his gaze flicking to my belly. “How’s everything?”

“It’s…fine.” I choose my words carefully. “School’s a lot, but I’m managing. I’ve got a segment on the CLUSports social media team and it’s doing really well so far.”

“That’s amazing. I saw your video with Sophie Morres. I had no idea she was a mom…” he drifts off, realizing there’s very much an elephant lurking in the room still.

“Hudson has been amazing too,” I add, because I’m in the mood to shrink that elephant. “Because I’m sure you’re wondering, right? He’s been everything I’ve needed. Supportive. Thoughtful.Present,” I say with a bite.

He nods slowly. “Good. He’s been playing well. I’m glad he’s stepping up.”

My jaw clenches at his choice of words. Stepping up. Like this is just some obligation Hudson’s filling. Not our lives. “Have you spoken to him much?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

Dad rubs his five o’clock shadow, wincing. “We’ve talked a bit, yeah.”

A flicker of heat snaps inside me. “And what does that mean?” I press. “That you’re being cold to him? Ignoring him? Making him feel like he’s constantly got something to prove?”

His mouth thins.

But I barrel forward, the hurt bubbling over, breaking the dam I’ve been holding together for too long. “From where I’m sitting, Hudson has been there for me a hell of a lot more than you have.”

The silence between us is biting, so again, I continue on.

“You’ve barely spoken to me since that night outside the stadium.” My voice cracks. “And it seemed like you couldn’t get away fast enough, you took that call over talking to me. You haven’t asked about school until today. You have no idea how I’m coping, yet some of the last words you said to me were how you are worried about me, my future.” My throat tightens painfully, but I force the words through. “And do you know what hurts the most? It’s not your lack of communication. It’s the fact that I believed you’d still show up for me. And you didn’t.”

His mouth parts, but I shake my head before he talks.

“I get it,” I say with a sob. “I messed up your plans for me. I didn’t do things in the perfect order. But you’re my dad, and I needed you. I still need you. And you—” Tears burn my eyes as I take a breath. “You disappeared.”

My heart pounds so loudly I can hear it in my ears. I wipe at my cheeks, hating that I’m crying, but I can’t stop.

He rakes a hand through his light hair, and his chair scrapes as he pushes back from the desk. “I’m so sorry, Daphne.” His voice trembles, and his eyes shine in a way I haven’t seen before.

“When you told me, I didn’t know how to handle it. I was angry and scared, and I couldn’t fix this one thing for you.” I stare at him, pulse racing. “I’ve always been able to fix your problems. Band aids and broken hearts before, but this?”

His hands fall to his desk, gripping the edge. “You’re my daughter. My baby. And suddenly, your whole world changed and I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t—” Releasing a breath, his voice breaks again. “I’ve been a damn coward, I know that. I didn’t want my fear weighing you down, but that’s…” He swallows hard. “My biggest regret.”

My chest aches. “I didn’t need you to fix anything,” I whisper. “I just needed you with me.”

He pushes away from his desk, rounding the side and pulling me into his embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His hold is strong, familiar, and so like my dad that I break all over again. With relief, with pride, with every ounce of strength it’s taken for me to grow up and find myself.

I cry for the moments I felt lost. The moments Hudson saw me when I couldn’t see myself.

I cry for the days I waited for my dad to call me. For every moment that I’ve wanted to share with him but couldn’t.

But most of all, I cry because I’ve learned something about myself. I’m stronger than I ever realized, and this baby, this life I’m building, is going to be the making of me.

I’m not sure how long I stay in my dad’s arms, but I know I’ve soaked his shirt with my tears. When I pull back, I pat at the wet spot, giving a weak apology.

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