Page 62 of The Other Side of Apart
He gives a half-hearted, one-syllable laugh. “You forget, I potty-trained you. At least now you know how to aim.” I can see his jaw working from back here. “Marcus, I…”
I hold my breath. Is this where he tells me he told me so? Or that I brought this on myself? That he knew Mei was trouble, and why didn’t I listen to him instead of getting myself messed up?
“I wish I could’ve helped you sooner. With a lot of things.”
I release my trapped breath. Didn’t expect that. Not sure what to say. I have comebacks for everything else but that. Not sure how I feel about it.
“I’m so thankful you’re alive.” His voice cracks, and I blink back tears that were waiting for an excuse to break through.
“Why didn’t you turn us in?” I ask, swiping at my eyes. “After you came to Stanford and gave me a deadline I didn’t keep?”
Rain drops fall on the windshield, and Dad flips on the wipers. Silence fills the car until he finally responds. “Because you’re more important to me than my job. What you want matters to me. Even if it means bending some rules, M.C.”
That’s all it takes. I lose it, and I’m fine with the tears sliding down my face. I’ve lost everything else, so why not all my dignity? Those initials—the nickname I haven’t heard since I left San Francisco—pushes out all the tension, and we both cry silently for miles.
When I can finally speak again, I say, “Thanks for coming, Dad.” I swipe my eyes again, my face raw. Sniffing, I wipe my face with my shirt, my chest a little less tight.
He laughs and sniffs. “Uh, yeah. I’ve wanted to show up at your door more than a few times.”
I don’t blame him for staying away. Not after what happened between us at the Stanford soccer field. Not after I betrayed him and went to Olivia’s. Even though he doesn’t know, I do, and I hate myself for ever blaming him for protecting me from her.
But maybe if he’d shown up in Vegas or Indiana, I wouldn’t be like this right now. Maybe I would’ve been ready to listen to him and put my life back together before it exploded for good.
When I don’t respond, Dad keeps talking. “But I knew you needed to be on your own. Make your own choices. I’d like to know all about your last seven months. We’ve got fifteen hours of driving. And I’m not worried about you getting mad and running off again. If you do, I’ll definitely catch you this time.”
A laugh huffs out of me. “I’m gonna give up running permanently. That’s all I’ve been doing since I left San Francisco. I’m done.”
“Maybe, once your leg heals, you can just ride your motorcycle instead.”
My neck tenses with yet another confession that needs to come out but doesn’t know how to find an exit big enough. I picture the bike parked in The Palazzo parking garage, abandoned. Definitely impounded by now. “I don’t have it anymore.” The words scrape up my throat, shame scorching every place they touch
“I know. Because I’ve got it.”
My heart trips. “What?”
He nods in the front seat. “Yeah. It was registered to me, so I got a call from a security company in Vegas.”
Thoughts skid across my head, brake, U-turn, and speed around my brain like they’re on a racetrack. “So you…went and got it?”
“Had it shipped. That’s how we figured out Nick was on your trail. You never would’ve left it otherwise.”
I run my hands down my face. He keeps things that are abandoned. He kept me when Olivia walked away, and he kept my bike when I walked away. I almost spill everything about meeting Olivia, my heart in my throat, but I swallow. I don’t wanna talk about her right now. “You can keep it. It’s yours.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “We can talk about that later. And you can tell me how it ended up in a parking garage. Or you can wait on that, too.”
“Later.” I push away memories and sadness and loss. I shove them so far down, they’re like a rock in the bottom of my stomach.
“Figured.”
The rain pelts the roof and Dad slows, flicking the wipers to the fastest speed. I have to say…pretty impressed you made it this long and far. You did a great job of flying under the radar. Coming from a guy who finds people for a living, I’m impressed.”
He uses“you.” Not “you and Mei.” There is no more “us”. She’s still under the radar after throwing me right in front of it.
My chest combusts, and I’m breathing fire. I clutch my shirt over my heart and try to roll to my side to absorb the shooting pain in my leg. The question I’ve been avoiding floats in the pain, rising to the surface. If I don’t let it out now, it’ll gnaw at me until it tears its way out. I clench my teeth, breathing through my nose, and let words slip out. “Do you know where she is?” I can’t say her name.
“No.” Dad’s answer is tight, clipped. “No flags, no trace. Yet.”
I nod like I can slide his answer into place, like the final puzzle piece in my acceptance. “Okay.”
