Page 14 of The Runaway and the Rugged
“Real question is, are you okay?” Grace eyed me skeptically, her right eyebrow arched. “You look… tense.”
Jesus, she sounded too much like an adult. What happened to my little girl? The one who’d run to me every morning wearing a giant smile and wrapping her lanky arms around my legs. It seemed like almost a lifetime ago when that was our routine. Now it consisted of morning scowls and begrudging grumbles.
“Tense?” I laughed. “And how do you know what that looks like?”
Her shoulders dropped in a shrug, “I’m in seventh grade. I know a lot of things.”
She knows a lot of things? The hell does she mean by that?
“Plus, you and Uncle Griff practically invented the word tense.”
Invented it? Yeah, we had our moments, sure, but it wasn't like I was constantly on edge. Is that really what she thought?
At a sudden loss on how to respond, Grace brushed right past me and opened the door to her bedroom. “You both need girlfriends…” she mumbled as my back was still turned.
I spun around on my heel with a wide-eyed expression centered on my daughter. There’s no way she came up with thaton her own. She must have picked it up from someone, whether it be Greta, my mom, or maybe even Beau.
Thanks, guys.
It wasn’t a topic that was discussed. I didn’t date, I didn’t talk to women, and it never seemed to be an issue until now.
“Where’s this coming from?” Bracing my palms onto the top of the doorframe, I regarded her carefully. It was hardly something I wanted to discuss, let alone with my twelve-year-old, but I knew it needed to be addressed.
She shrugged again while ruffling through her clothes.
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that you don’t have a wife, or at least a girlfriend?” Her eyes dipped over in my direction before returning back to her drawers. “Isn’t that supposed to be a goal in life? To have a family?”
My heart thundered painfully in my chest. In a previous life, I was convinced I had it all. The career, the perfect partner, but as it turned out, my purpose in life was to be the best dad I could be. Though, it wasn’t without its challenges, the idea of letting someone in again fucking terrified me.
“I do have a family. I have you, Grandma, Uncle Griffin, and Aunt Greta. That’s all I need.”
“What about Bear?” she asked, her mouth twitching with amusement.
Bear was the nickname she had given Beau. Who the hell knows why, but over the years it just stuck. Though he was a major pain in my ass, he was a loyal pain in the ass who would do anything for just about anyone.
“Bear? He’s more like a persistent dog that keeps comin’ back, annoyin’ the hell out of your sister and I.”
She giggled.
“Bear’s the best.” Her words sparked my eyes to roll.
Nothing more wounding than hearing my daughter say a man other than her father was the best. As if noticing aheaviness lingering in the air, Grace’s eyes softened with the acknowledgment of her words. They weren’t meant to hurt, they weren’t meant for me to read too much into, but it didn’t stop me from doing exactly that.
The trials and tribulations of being a single dad: constantly questioning whether you’re good enough. It was an internal battle that seemed never-ending and despite all my efforts, I just never felt good enough.
“But he’s got nothing on you.”
My heart flipped with the warmth only a father could understand. She was my strong-willed, sporadically troublesome daughter, but she was also the most compassionate, kind-hearted girl I knew. And fleeting moments like these I wanted to preserve in a bottle and store them in the most secure portion of my mind.
“Thanks, bug.” My throat tightened with emotion. “And no, I don’t think it’s weird that I don’t have a girlfriend, but I’m assumin’ you do.” I returned to our previous topic while studying her movements closely, searching for an inkling of an answer as to why she felt the way she did. Unfortunately, she was a hard nut to crack. She seemed too engrossed in finding an outfit for school than she was with revisiting the subject.
“It doesn’t bother me. I mean, yeah, it would be kind of cool to have another girl around. Maybe someone who actually knows how to curl hair and cook good food.” With a pile of clothes in hand, she shot me a look that I couldn’t decipher. Or maybe just one that I didn’t have the strength to.
“Aunt Greta knows how to curl your hair. Remember that school dance you had, she did your hair up real nice with all those big curls,” I added, having a sudden flashback of the night that nearly sent me into an early grave. “And cook good food? Are you trying to say that I don’t?”
“Aunt Greta had no clue what she was doing. She only agreed to it because she knew you’d screw it up even more than she would.”
My eyes narrowed.
