Page 73 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
"So you decided to lie instead?"
"I decided to handle it myself."
"By running away?" he asked, and I didn't miss the hurt tone of voice he used.
"Dad…" I whispered, but before I could answer, the doors opened again, and the technician emerged, her smile even brighter than before.
"Great news," she announced, clapping her hands. . "No clear signs of spread. The tumors are responding beautifully to treatment."
Relief flooded through me so suddenly that I felt lightheaded. Mom appeared behind the technician, her face radiant with joy and tears streaming down her cheeks.
"The best possible outcome," the technician continued. "Dr. Morrison will want to see you next week to discuss the next phase of treatment, but this is exactly what we were hoping for."
Dad was on his feet immediately, pulling Mom into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder, her body shaking with sobs. "I was so scared," she whispered. "I was so scared it had spread."
"It's okay," Dad murmured, his own voice thick. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're going to be fine."
I stood there watching them, feeling like an intruder in their moment of relief. The fight we'd been having suddenly seemed petty, insignificant compared to the news we'd just received. Mom was going to be okay. The treatment was working. We had reason to hope.
"Come here," Mom said, reaching for me with one arm while keeping the other wrapped around Dad. "Come here, baby."
I joined their embrace, feeling the warmth of their arms around me, the solid reality of their love. For a moment, the tension between Dad and me disappeared, replaced by gratitude and relief.
"Let's go home," Mom said, wiping her eyes. "I want to see my grandchildren."
The drive back to the house was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet than before. Mom dozed in the passenger seat, emotionally drained from the morning's stress and the relief of good news. Dad navigated the familiar streets of Boston, his hands steady on the wheel.
"I want to apologize," I said softly, not wanting to wake Mom.
Dad's eyes found mine in the rearview mirror. "For what?"
"For lying. For keeping the children from you. For making you worry about me when you should have been focusing on Mom."
"I worried about you because I love you."
"I know. But I made it harder than it had to be."
"Yes, you did." He paused at a red light. "But I understand why."
"Do you?"
"I think so. You were scared of disappointing me. Scared of being judged. Scared of losing control of your life."
"All of the above," I grumbled, and I winced at how ungrateful that sounded. He was being kind for the first time since this started.
"I'm sorry I made you feel that way."
"Dad—"
"I did, though. I know I did. I pushed you to be perfect, to make the right choices, to never mess up. And when you finally did mess up, you were too scared to tell me about it."
The light turned green, and we drove in contemplative quiet for several blocks. Mom stirred in her seat, murmuring in her sleep.
"Duncan's a good man," Dad said eventually. "I don't agree with what happened four years ago, but I can see that he cares about you. About the children."
"He does," I sighed, staring out the window. Dad was coming around, just like Duncan said he would, but there were miles of road ahead of us that still needed to be covered to make up for all the time lost.
Dad parked in the drive and I helped him get Mom settled before leaving. The drive to Duncan's house gave me time to think, to process the morning's events. The good news about Mom's scan had lifted a weight from my shoulders, but the conversation with Dad had left me feeling raw and exposed. He was right about me still running, still protecting myself from the possibility of pain.
