Page 108 of Take Me Home

He sat beside her on the bed. “It must sound crazy that I could not know so much. I was so afraid I’d only be bad for you, just like I was for your mom.”

Hazel frowned. That wasn’t fair. For all that Hazel thought she understood her mother and had accepted her choices, she’d stillleft.And not just a husband who worked too much and a stifling life in a small town. She’d left herdaughter. It wasn’t right that Hazel’s father blamed himself for that choice, nor that his shame had apparently made him doubt how much she’d needed him.

“And there you were,” he went on, “my beautiful, smart, compassionate, perfect daughter, behind a door with your music and your books, and I didn’t know what you needed. Wasn’t sure I had it, whatever it was. Which is my shortfall, not yours.”

“Dad.” She didn’t know what else to say. He was right thatshe’d spent hours in her room, whether he was home or not. He’d taken ages to unpack at the new house, to make it feel anything like a home. Though it was plenty large for two, unopened boxes encroached in all the shared living spaces. Those boxes and his silence when he was around made every room feel too tight, like she was taking up too much air. She couldn’t remember if, after that initial hard year, she’d ever ventured out to find him, to watch TV or talk, or if she’d expected him to be the one to knock on her door from the very start.

As for the moodiness, she remembered blaring music—sad girl acoustic—and escaping into her schoolwork, not necessarily to send a message or put up a wall, but because those things distracted her from her terrible loneliness.

“I didn’t know,” she said simply. “I didn’t know any of that.”

He put one arm around her shoulders and squeezed her into his side, saying into her hair, “That’s the awful long and short of it, isn’t it? Wish I could go back and do it all differently. You always belonged with me. Always. I’ll never forgive my—”

Hazel snaked her arm around his back and pressed her face into his shoulder. “I’ve missed you, too.” The admission came with a sob, the words held in for too long.

She hoped forgiveness was in the cards for them, too. And as strongly as he insisted the blame in this was his, she realized she’d have to reconcile her small part in it, all the years they could have had if she had simply spoken up, made the first move.

Her stomach growled. She pulled away as he asked, “They got a diner around here? I could sure go for some pancakes.”

She laughed, started to tell him about the absurd place down the block, but stopped, slapping a hand to her forehead. “No. Dad, your wedding. We have to go now.”

She hefted her bag back onto her shoulder, snatched herkeys, but her father was still sitting on the bed. “What are you doing? Come on.”

“There’s no hurry.”

“But—your wedding.”

He shrugged. “I’d like to take my daughter to breakfast.”

“Dad. I’m going to need a shower once we get there, and I’ll have to do my hair, fix my face.”

“We’ve got time. And if we have to start a little late, Val will understand.” At her raised eyebrow, he waved his phone then thumbed the screen. “I’m telling her we’re going to eat.”

His phone buzzed, and he read the message to her, “ ‘Take your time. No more speeding tickets.’ ”

“Oh.”

“Plus…” He dropped his gaze to his knees. “I didn’t want to assume you were ready for all that. We haven’t discussed how you feel about it.”

“What, your wedding? Yes. Dad. I’m ready. I was leaving to get there in time when I heard you waking up the entire motel. I never had a problem with you getting married.”

Was that true? Her oldeverything’s finereflex would take some time to kick, her true feelings harder to dial in on quickly, but she thought about Val and her kids, how hard they’d worked on her bedroom, her designated seat at their dining table, the custom stocking and all those Christmas packages under their tree. She hadn’t given them much of a chance, but that had nothing to do with them.

“They’re all great. You seem really happy together,” she said, and she meant it.

“I want you to be part of it. A real part.”

Hazel let the familiar knee-jerk resistance, the impulse to cling to an exit strategy, roll through. On the other side of thatfeeling, a little spark of excitement surprised her. A house full of people where she wasn’t just a visitor. How that would come to be, exactly, she wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t a terrible thought.

—

When they entered the house just after eleven, Val, Lucy, and Raf were eating popcorn in pajamas in front of the TV. No one looked ready for a wedding. They swarmed Hazel and her father, glad she was back, glad she was safe, as if she had been taken from them rather than having left of her own free will.

She turned to her father. “Didn’t you tell them we’d make it?”

Val waved a hand. “I told the minister to come back this afternoon.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hazel said. She hoped Val understood that she meant the apology for so much more than the delay, for all the stress her leaving had caused them, for however personally Val must have taken her behavior this week. “Is there anything that needs to be done before the ceremony?”

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