Page 24 of Implode

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“You know you can talk to me about…” Dad starts, probably sensing my turmoil, “stuff.” I’m sure I look a bit unkempt—which Penny basically confirmed.

I lean my back against the counter, crossing my ankles. So many times I’ve stood in this very spot, having chats with my dad—but never about this type ofstuff. We’ve never discussed something so heavy, and yet I’ve always known he’d have amazing listening ears. “So there’s this girl…”

“Wait.” He puts his hands up to pause me. His eyes study my face, and I can’t help but smirk. “We are actually doing this? Right here. Right now?”

I shrug. I get his shock. It’s not like I’m an open-book kind of guy in the emotions department. But I’m miserable. I’m not sleeping well. I’m not eating well. And I sure as hell am not coping well.

For someone who initiated the breakup, I’m certainly not feeling the effects of freedom that usually follow. Instead, I’m a walking disaster.

“Only if you promise not to tell Mom.”

Dad stifles his laughter. “Son, there’s not much that woman doesn’t already know.”

He’s right. Donna has a sixth sense when it comes to interpersonal relationships. It’s probably the very reason she’s not badgering me right now to tell her why I look like hell.

Cracking open two beers, Dad hands one to me. Tipping it forward, we cheers, then take our first sips. “Please, go on.”

Extending my feet out farther in front of me, I relax into my leaning stance. “I honestly don’t have much to say, other than I fell hard without realizing it and then broke her heart in the end.”

“So fix it.”

I huff out a laugh. Gee, why didn’t I think of that? “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is. Men always act like women are some big mystery and that we have to read between lines to figure out what they really want. But it’s really simple. Fight for her. If you want her back, fight. But do it hard and with thoughtful intention.”

I take another drink, allowing myself a moment to mull over his words. “Tara messed me up—badly.”

“You are using what happened in your past as a safety-net excuse to keep yourself disengaged from anyone new that comes into your life in the present. But aren’t you tired of playing the same unemotional game, where you basically lose every time? This isn’t about settling down. It’s simply about treating yourself with respect, so you in turn can treat women that way.”

I sigh. Dammit, he’s right. “It’s complicated.”

“So was your mom. She still is.” He glances around the room. “And look what we created together. Sometimes you encounter someone who’s worth the risk of getting hurt. But in reality, you already got hurt it seems.”

I nod in agreement. Dad is always so wise and level-headed when it comes to these things. He knows the balance between providing too little advice or too much advice.

“Listen, Nic. There’s no shame finding someone with better resources to talk with, but know I’m always here to listen, and I know your mother would say the same. You’re never too grown to lean on either of us.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Will I like her?”

A smile beams on my lips, unable to be contained. “There’s no way you couldn’t.”

Leaning in, Dad gives me a hug, which I gladly accept. I can’t remember the last time we really hugged, and it doesn’t matter, because it is occurring at the perfect moment—when I need it most.

He resists asking me who “she” is, and for that I am thankful. When I bring Claire here, I want to do it with her as my girlfriend.

I say my goodbyes to Mom and Penny, who are lounging out on the back deck, and exit the house, silently wishing that my dad’s words were true. Is getting Claire back as easy as just fighting for her? It might be if I wasn’t so damaged.

When I settle into the driver’s side of my car, I press my forehead against the steering wheel. I might be familiar with heartbreak, but I’m definitely not familiar with how to actually heal from it.

Sitting up, I remove my phone from my pocket, open up my contacts, and hover my finger over a number in the list. When Dr. Mitch Saber, a longtime friend and personal physician to both Graham and me, picks up, I suck in a deep breath through my mouth and slowly release it out my nose.

“Hey Mitch, how are you doing?”

“Just fine. But I can’t say I was expecting to hear from you. Everything alright?”

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