Page 203 of Mountain Daddy
Even if everything between us stays exactly the same.
He should know too.
I set my fork down.
“Dad, I…” I swallow. “I can’t have kids.”
His mouth opens, but then he closes it. “You don’t want to?” he asks slowly.
Rolling my lips together, I wish I could do this without feeling so emotional.
Tears won’t help.
I’m okay now. And I need him to understand that part the most.
I lift a shoulder. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean?” Dad’s voice is quiet.
I can feel Luther’s eyes on me, but I can’t look at him. Not while I say this part. “I mean… I’ll never be able to have children. I…” I take a breath. Then I say it. “I had my ovaries removed.”
Dad’s throat bobs. “When?”
“Ten years ago,” I admit, knowing it will hurt him.
Dad blinks, then whispers the next question, like he’s scared of the answer. “Why?”
It was a lifetime ago.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
“They—the doctors, they found a tumor.”
Dad exhales, like the answer struck him in the chest.
We found a tumor.
We need to remove it as soon as possible.
I try not to think about that day. But it’s easier now. Easier than it was.
My dad’s eyes shimmer with emotion. “Cancer?”
I lift my shoulder again and nod.
He makes a sound of distress.
“I’m fine.” I hurry out. “They got everything, and nothing spread. That’s why they took both.”
“Kendra.” Tears spill down Dad’s cheeks.
He never calls me that.
I fight my own battle against my tears.
“I’m okay.” I reassure him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He wipes at his cheeks.
