Page 171 of Not Another Yesterday
“I fuckingknewit.” I laugh, but sober quickly. “Honestly, it worked. I still remember walking outside, how fucking bright the sun was, how sharp the air felt. It really was the moment things started to shift. Before that, I was just… stuck. I can’t even explain it. I felt like I was buried in cement. Exhausted doesn’t even cover it. I had nothing left. Nothing mattered. Everything was too heavy. And it’s so weird, because I never felt like that even when things were bad. When Mom… When things were bad at home… I never felt that way. But once it was over, once I was safe, it was like everything collapsed all at once.”
“Because you held it together for so long, Ran,” he says gently. “Your adrenaline kept you going. It was pure survival. That’s what happens in combat, too. You survive the battle and only once you’re safe do you realize how badly you’re hurt. That’s when the real fight starts. And it did for you. Coming back from that… that’s a war in itself. And you’ve been so goddamn strong.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know about that, Dad. I’ve messed up a lot. I still get stuck in my head. Still have nightmares. Panic attacks. I broke up with Cat because I’m so fucking screwed up.”
He looks at me, eyes soft. “Kiddo, you can’t be so hard on yourself. This healing business…” He exhales, like the words weigh more than he expected. “Rica broke you down piece by tiny piece. For seventeen years. No one comes back from that overnight. Nobody expects you to be healed yet. I understand it takes time… trust me. I know.”
His voice dips, something knowing and wounded in it. Something lived-in. I suddenly realize how little I know about my dad, not justas mydad, but as Frank Soult. He’s someone with his own scars and secrets. I can see it written all over his face. Maybe someday I’ll get the chance to find out what shaped him, what made him run, who he really is.
“And…” he trails off, voice rough. “I also know it takes time to forgive.”
My brow lifts, cautious.Forgive who?Myself? My mom? Him?
“Ran, I know you’re angry… at me. And you have every right to be,” he says. “I failed you. In every way. I left you to fend for yourself for a long time. You fought with no one by your side, no one to protect you. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am… for all of it. For living a secret life with Penny, for abandoning you and Stevie. For not seeing the signs. I should’ve known. I should’ve protected you. I should’ve done a hell of a lot differently. I’m sorry, Ran,” he says, voice low. Then again, firmer: “I am sorry.”
Silence.
Suddenly, he merges across two lanes of freeway and pulls onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against gravel as he throws the Tahoe in park. He flips the hazard lights on. Then he turns full body in his seat to face me, his gaze locked on mine.
“Ronan,” he says, eyes steady. “I’m sorry. I love you. I need you tohearthat. I love you. There was never a time in my life when I didn’t want to be your dad. When I didn’t love you.”
I lock eyes with him, jaw tight. I’m not used to this version of him, the one who owns his shit. It hits me then that he’s been trying to, and I just… haven’t been willing to listen. He’s been making these quiet little attempts for a while now. He always answers the phone when I call, no matter how late it is or how many of his calls and texts I’ve ignored. He shows up at Murphy’s when he knows I’m working to check on me, always asks about Cat. He keeps trying, even when I give him nothing back but silence or sarcasm or make him run straight into my carefully built emotional brick wall.
I’ve been so angry. He left. He looked the other way. He kept running while I was stuck, made a whole other life while I lived in the wreckage of the first one.
But still… he’s here. When I told him how much it mattered to me to find Cormac, he dug. Probably used his military security clearance to find him, then insisted he go with me. And I’m glad he did. He showed up.
No fanfare. No big gestures. Just showing up. And maybe that matters. Maybe that counts for something. It should, right?
It twists something in me. Not forgiveness, not yet. But it cracks the door.
He swallows. “I want to be in your life, Ran. I’ve missed too much of you. And… I want to be in my grandbaby’s life, too.”
I blink, heart hammering in my chest. It still feels surreal when people say it out loud—that I’m going to be a dad. That there's going to be a tiny human who’s half me and half Cat.Fuck.I’m going to be a father before the year is out. And to say I have a hard time wrapping my head around that would be a fucking understatement.
“Even though I’m clearly way too handsome and young to be a grandfather,” my dad adds with a grin.
I huff a laugh in spite of myself.
He looks at me, a smile tugging at his lips. “Seriously, Ran. Do I look like a grandpa?” He puffs his chest out, flexing so hard I worry about the integrity of his already-very-fitted shirt stretching across his pecs.
“Not really,” I say, chuckling.
“Exactly. I’m too damn hot to be a grandfather. Shit, I’m only turning thirty-seven next month.”
“Yeah, sorry, Dad,” I say sheepishly.
He just shakes his head with a smile. “It’s alright. It’s what we do, right? You come from a long line of men who couldn’t keep it in their pants.”
I snort. “At least I made it to nineteen.”
“Athair was only thirty-six when he became a grandfather.” Then he pauses, more thoughtful now. “Speaking of which, I refuse to be called ‘Grandpa’ or any of that nonsense.”
“Oh yeah?” I smirk. “What do you want to be called, then?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Haven’t figured that part out yet.”
“Well, Athair is taken, so that’s a no-go.”
