Page 118 of Love is a Game

And I have no idea what the hell I’m doing here.

She pours me a glass of iced water, the cubes clinking softly against the glass, and then disappears down the hall to summon my father. I stare at the drink warily, as if consuming it would mean fully stepping into this alternate reality where I am here, in his house, in his life—a life that went on perfectly fine without me.

When my father walks in, he’s wiping his hands on his jeans, looking like some picture-perfect sitcom dad who just finished mowing the lawn or fixing a leaky faucet. A man who has a home to take care of. A family to tend to.

“Penny?” His voice is rough with concern. He hesitates, his gaze scanning me like he’s searching for signs of damage. “Are you alright? What happened to your arm?”

I look at the bandage on my wrist, feeling suddenly vulnerable. I came here to raise hell. To yell and point and get things off my chest. To tell him how much he messed up my heart, my head, my life.

But my throat closes up, filled with thick wads of doubt, confusion, and uncertainty.

Dad glances back at Laurie, something unspoken passing between them, and then, as if reassured, he steps closer.

“Er—why don’t we sit down?” He gestures toward the dining table.

There’s a vase of dried flowers in the center, resting on a woven runner. It’s all so…homely.

I shake my head. The lump in my throat swells, threatening to choke me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head, my voice sounding hoarse, foreign. “This was a mistake—”

I turn for the door, but my legs don’t seem to want to cooperate.

“Penny—” Dad reaches for my arm.

And that’s it.

His careful touch, the worry in his eyes…my childhood rushes up to meet me as he tentatively puts an arm around me.

The tears spill hot and insistent as he grips my shoulders, easing me down into a chair.

I cover my face, trying to stem the flow, trying tostop—but there’s too much. Too many years of resentment, confusion, anger, and loneliness bubbling up at once.

“I just don’t understand,” I choke out between sobs. “How could you just…leaveme?”

Silence stretches between us, thick and pulsing.

“I didn’t leave you, Penny.” His voice is quiet, steady.

I drop my hands from my face, blinking up at him. “You weren’t there.”

“No,” he agrees. “Because I was weak, Penny. I’ve always been weak. Your mother was the strong one. She made the right choice, taking you away. I wasn’t fit to be your father back then.”

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I’m what ruined things between you. Neither of you wanted me. Having me ruined your relationship.”

He grips my hands, leaning forward, intent. “That’s not true. We both adored you, Penny! But I was an addict. We had some good years, us three altogether. Until it all got out of hand. It was me—I was the one who destroyed everything. Your mother knew she deserved better than me. Thatyoudeserved way better. And she made the right choice. As much as I hated it, she was right.”

I shake my head. “No. You don’t get to make it sound noble. You weren’t there, Dad. You didn’t even try.”

“I did try,” he says softly. “For years, I tried to fight it. The drinking, the drugs, the darkness. But I lost. Over and over again. You said it yourself—all those calls and promises I made you? It wasn’t fair to you.”

I stare at him, my breath coming fast and shallow. “You just gave up on me. That was your choice. Even when you got better, you went and had a new family instead of trying again with us.” I slit a furtive look toward the kitchen.

But instead of avoiding me and my ill intent, Laurie brings over coffee, cookies, and a box of Kleenex before silently taking a seat across from me.

“It was the addiction that ruined everything,” Dad says, his voice thick. “And I live with that every day.”

Laurie clears her throat. “Penelope, do you know that your father and I met at a detox center? I was…lost, too. After my first husband died, I spiraled. Prescription pills, alcohol—it nearly ruined me.” She looks at Dad with something deep and knowing. “We helped each other claw our way out.”

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