Page 80 of Breaking Point

It looks the same as it did growing up. A lighthouse, a beacon to bring me back to the only place I’ve ever called home. I felt the safety, the comfort in it, like the tide washing over sand, like the sun falling over the misted, grassy hills at sunrise.

It’s been 13 years since I first left home and enlisted. Since the fight between Jimmy and I that changed everything. I’ve seen him twice since then and though we’ve talked on the phone occasionally, I’ve never been man enough to outright apologize. Like many things, it’s haunted me.

I take the steps to their bedroom slowly. The door is open, and when I step inside, his back is to me.

He groans as he heaves himself into the lounge chair in the corner. His eyes startle when he sees me. “I thought you were Tessa.”

I smile, leaning against the door jam as I shake my head. “She’s downstairs with-“

“The girl.” He nearly laughs as he says it, and my chest sinks. “Seems your mom is playing her usual games. Could’ve sworn she said her hair was brown though. Winter, right?”

A flash of anger rips through me at his words.

He doesn’t know Winter passed.

As far as he knows, I left the military for a girl, and I’ve been content to rub it in his face from afar.

It’s not his fault. I asked Mom to let me tell him on my own time. Never have I wished that I reconciled things more than I do in this moment.

Olivia isn’t Winter. And she doesn’t deserve to be treated differently because ofmyshortcomings.

“Winter died almost four years ago,” I say. I don’t say it for the pity that flashes across his face or the pause it gives him. “Olivia…” I start, but the next words take far longer to muster. “Olivia is a client, and she was kind enough to pick up her life and come here when I needed it.” His replying nod is slow as the information soaks in. “Mom said you fell.”

He waves the words away, leaning back. “She made a big deal out of nothing. I’m fine.”

“You had a heart attack, Dad. That’s not nothing.”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” he laughs, but I don’t miss the edge to his voice.

“Mom called me. Terrified. She was scared out of her mind while you were in the hospital.”

“I know,” he sighs. Regret flashes across his face. “I know she was.”

For a few moments, it looks like he might say more. But his shoulders fall, his exhaustion clear. His hair has gone silver in the years since I’ve seen him, the lines on his forehead morepronounced, his face rougher. But he has the same muscular build. The same builder’s hands.

“How are you feeling?” I finally ask.

“I think I’ll feel better when we get the renovations done. I just have the cabinets to finish. Then the credenza. The work just… It takes it out of me more than before.”

I raise a brow. “What credenza?”

“The one for the guest house. Your mom’s wanted one for forever. I’ll be damned if I don’t get her one.”

I laugh. He’s always been hard-headed- one of the many reasons we butt heads. Mom has a way of getting to him. “She’ll like that.”

He hums, closing his eyes as he relaxes into his seat. “I don’t think I’ll be downstairs for dinner, but maybe… We can have breakfast tomorrow.”

“If you’re feeling up to it.” I nod, and just before I head back downstairs, I hear his voice again:

“I didn’t think I’d see you home again. It’s good to have you back.”

Regret and guilt fill my chest again, and I clear my throat as the feeling settles. “When you’re feeling better, how about we talk?”

He nods. I leave the door open a crack as I leave- just enough to see him shut his eyes before I tread downstairs. The photos on the wall are the same, the stairs still creak at the bottom, but I freeze when I see the new photo on the wall at the foot of the stairs.

It’s a picture of Mom and I the day I graduated basic training. She’s smiling while I’m in full-uniform. She looks so damn proud of me. Dad missed that day, and the picture used to serve as a reminder of his rejection.

Of my decision to enlist, of my life.

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