Page 104 of Hound Dog
She rolled over in bed, and her red-rimmed eyes widened. “Finn? What are you doing here?”
I crossed to her bed and sat on the edge. “Your aunt called me. She’s been worried about you.”
“Why would she be worried about me?” Haylee gave a manic laugh as she pulled on a string of the bedspread, unraveling the stitching. “We’re rich. Multi-millionaires. She never needs to worry about me ever again. We’re set forlife.”
I winced. “I don’t think that’s how it really works. You can’t just buy a carefree life.”
“Can’t you? My dad would beg to differ, I think.”
As she pulled the string further, it shifted the blanket causing the pile of letters stacked beside her to fall over. “Is that what his letters say?”
She shook her head, and for what felt like the first time since I arrived, she looked up at me.Reallylooked at me. “No. He tells me how much he loves me. How even though he wasn’t in my life, he never stopped thinking about me or loving me. That for him, loving me meant staying away. But thatall thiswas my birthright.”
“Do you think he was right? That he was a better father for staying away from you?”
She inhaled a shaky breath, and her next word came out on a sob. “No.”
I slid over and wrapped my arms around her. She fell into me, crying, burying her face in my shoulder. “I think he expected to still be alive when the trust was released to me. His letters kept saying that when I was old enough and wanted to meet him, he’d be there for me.”
After a few minutes of silence, she pulled away, sniffling, and stood up. Pacing her room, she said, “And he… he wrote me a song. The night I was born, he came to the hospital to meet me.”
She pulled out a photograph from one of the piles around her and handed it to me. It was the same photograph she had showed me years ago, but this one was in better condition. Not worn from years of being carried in a wallet.
Stan Skinner smiled at the camera, sitting in a chair, holding a tiny, bald, newborn baby in his arms. And he was smiling.
She tapped her finger to her phone and a grunge power ballad started playing. “His estate manager said it’s up to me what I do with that song. I could release it as a never-before-heard single. Or keep it just between us for now.”
“Luckily, you don’t have to decide anything yet. You can take as much time as you need. And your decision can always change.”
She wiped her eyes. “That’s true.”
“I’m sorry he sprung all this on you.”
“I don’t even know how to feel. I know I should be happy. I tried calling my best friend, but she didn’t answer. It feels so weird. I just… I wish I could haveoneconversation with him.”
“I know.” I moved to pull her back into my arms, but she pushed me away, her entire demeanor shifting.
“Doyou? Because you could talk to your dad at any time and you’re choosing not to.” Her lips pinched together, her spine rigid. “You’rechoosingnot to have a relationship with him.”
Heat surged through my whole body in a single breath.Don’t react. She didn’t mean that.
The facts… I just had to stick to the facts. She’d had an emotional morning where she not only learned that she was a millionaire, but also that her fatherdidlove her and that her mother had lied to her for years.
I couldn’t blame her for lashing out at me.
“This isn’t about me,” I said, trying to keep my voice gentle with a steady, even tone. Despite my effort, the pitch of my voice rose slightly as I spoke.
“Exactly. So don’t stand there and pretend you understand what I’m going through right now.”
“Haylee.” I reached out to stroke her arm, but she jerked away from me, changing direction and pacing to the opposite side of the room.
“I’ve lost everyone in my life, except Meryl. I’ve had no one but her for years. And before that, it was just my mom. Which was fine…” She stopped pacing mid-stride and snatched a plastic water bottle from her nightstand, taking a quick swig. The plastic bottle crackled from within her crushing grip.
“It’s okay to be mad at your mom.”
With tears in her eyes, she lifted her gaze to me.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Do you know how hard it is to be mad at a dead person? How much it hurts to never be able to hear her side of it? To never be able to look her in the eyes as she apologizes? To never be able to hug her and tell her you forgive her?”
