Page 5 of What We Broke

A humorless laugh leaves my mouth. Somehow driving in the middle of the night to pick up her drunk dad isn’t on the list of daughter and father activities I want to do together.

I lean in and kiss her forehead. “Please be asleep when I get back.”

Walking back into my bedroom, I slip on a sweatshirt and thread my arms through my winter coat. Considering I was in bed only ten minutes ago, I’m sure I look ridiculous with all the layers. But it’s cold out and I don’t really know what to expect when I leave here, or how long I’ll be gone.

Finding my boots, I shove my sock-covered feet in each one and head to the front door.

“Dad.” My hand rests on the handle, the tone of my daughter’s voice making it hard for me to turn around and face her. “Dad,” she repeats firmly.

I attempt to swallow over the wedge of emotion stuck in the back of my throat and rest my head against the wooden door. “Yeah, babe.”

“Is he okay?”

We both know the answer. Nothing has been okay in a very long time. But for her sake and mine, I lie anyway. “It’s been a hard day, but everything is fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Get yourself a perceptive, mature seventeen-year-old daughter, they said. You’ll love it, they said. What everyone forgot to prepare me for was the fact that this girl could read me like a book. There isn’t a single thing that went unnoticed, and right now Ineedher to stop noticing.

I need her to be uninterested and unobservant and ignore the fact that one of her fathers was leaving the house in the middle of the night, to once again try and save our family.

But I’m not so lucky.

There is sadness and worry in her eyes, and I can’t stand the disappointment and shattered expectations. She is my everything.

But so is he.

Together, they are my world.

The life we share is all I’ve ever needed, and then some.

But right now my heart is breaking right down the middle for all of us.

It’s been a year and I’m in purgatory.

Raine is supposed to be applying for colleges. She’s supposed to be getting ready to spread those wings and fly.

Our marriage was never supposed to be her problem. She doesn’t need to be considering gap years, and I don’t need her to make her life decisions based on the utter mess her parents have become.

But God how I want her here. Want her to stay.

She is the light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

The sun after a rainy, cloud-filled day.

She is the reason there is only one man getting drunk at a bar in the middle of the week and not two.

Her hand rests on my back, her comfort and empathy emanating from that simple touch. It makes me want to drop to my knees and cry.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

This isn’t where I saw our life going.

“Here,” she says quietly. “I packed you a few bottles of water, because he’ll probably need them.”

Attempting to find my resolve, I try to steady my shuddering breath and turn to face her. “Thank you.” I grab the small cooler bag she’s holding out for me and look at her pointedly. “Pleasebe asleep when I get back.”

“You know I can still hear you both when you get home, right?”

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