Page 86 of Miss Matched

“I remember.”

I remember it was a mess. Mom had just disappeared again, and Dad was trying to distract me by getting me out of the house. It was early morning, still dark, cold, and raining. And I only caught one lousy fish.

But I also remember I’d never felt so close to my dad, sitting on that boat in silence. He didn’t ask how I was feeling or force me to talk about my feelings. He let the quiet heal us. And when the wind kicked up, he handed me a thermos of hot chocolate, taking care of me the best way he knew how. By just being there.

Dad nods. “You remember that first fish, then.”

“The only one I caught.” I chuckle under my breath. It was small and nothing to write home about. “Yeah, I remember.”

“You threw it back,” he reminds me.

“It would have made a lousy meal.” It was not worth killing or keeping. Or maybe I didn’t have the stomach for it yet. “What about it?”

“When you catch a fish, you’ve got one of two options: bash their head in, or toss ’em back.” Dad holds up two fingers, then waves them away. “You’re successful because you run your business knowin’ when to cut your losses and knowin’ when it’s time to eat. But son, people don’t work like that. I reckon you said what you did to Kennedy to bury something you were feeling that you weren’t ready to deal with yet. And rather than giving Kennedy the choice of wading into that mess with you, you tried to put her out of her misery. That ain’t how you love.”

He sighs and takes a deep breath.

“Your momma and I weren’t the best example for you, with her walking out and me doing nothin’ about it. But we were broken long before any of that, long before you were old enough to see it.” He tips his head back to the flowers. “Kennedy is nothin’ like your mother, and you’re nothin’ like your old man.”

“I have responsibilities, a business to run. I don’t have time for a relationship,” I say. “It was a mistake to think differently.”

“Bullshit,” Dad says, his eyes cold as ice.

“You don’t get it,” I snap. But the cold look he shoots me reins me in. “Kennedy grew up with no one; she built her life from the ground up. She can’t risk losing everything she’s worked for because of me. I can’t be selfish with her. I can’t hold her back.”

The truth rips out of me with that confession. No matter how much it destroys me to lose her, I can’t risk it. Being with me has the potential to destroy everything she’s dreamed of.

“Son.” Dad grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I believe you’ll make the right decision, whatever that is. And I support you in it no matter what. But don’t be a coward, you got that? If you want to be with the woman, make it right. And if you don’t, let her go. Face it either way.”

I nod and don’t have the heart to tell him that I’m already a coward. Saying things I don’t mean. Cutting her out. What I need now is strength, but without Kennedy by my side, I’m not sure I’ve got it.

“Enough of that worry now,” Dad says, pushing his water cup with his finger. “I’m thirsty and starved. So go get me some water, and sneak in a burger while you’re at it. I’m done sufferin’ from this goo they try to pass off as food.”

I laugh. “On one condition: you’re staying with me when you get out of here.”

“Now, son—”

“No.” I shake my head. “It wasn’t really a question. At least until your treatments are done, you’re staying at my place in the city. Closest to the best doctors and medical treatment money can buy. If I have to throw every last dollar at this then that’s what I’ll do. What else do I need it for? If you’re gonna call me on my bullshit, then I’m gonna call you on yours. You need help. Let me do this.”

Dad sighs. “Go get my burger and we’ll talk about it.”

It’s his way of agreeing without actually giving in, and the smallest amount of relief flows through me. One piece of this giant mess of a puzzle is finally in place. It should feel like the first step of putting this all back together. But how do I make something whole when someone else holds half the pieces?

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