Page 100 of Find You Again (Nashville Star 2)

Alabama sits silently, staring out the windshield as Griff rolls the truck into the driveway of her father’s house. Newton’s in the yard, red-faced as he digs up weeds from the garden. A hollow aching feeling settles in the pit of her stomach. She has to confront her father. She has to tell him that she knows. That what he’s done is unacceptable in so many ways.

“Alabama?”

She looks over at Griff, who’s watching her with worry.

“You don’t got to do this, you know.”

“I do. It’s not right what he did. All this time, he—” She breaks off, her faith in her father badly shaken. He’s always been her rock, always taught her right from wrong, and for him to do something like this—it’s unconscionable.

But she can’t let him get away with it. Not anymore. She’ll be damned if she lets her father treat Griff like shit. Lets him shame her for her mistakes when he’s made some doozies of his own.

Alabama exhales, trying to screw up her courage.

“You want me to come with you?” Griff asks in a low voice.

Her heart swells, knowing that he would, knowing that he’d be beside her every step of the way if she let him. “No.” Giving him a half-smile, she reaches for the door handle. “I have to do this myself.”

Then she’s out and walking on wobbly legs. Her heart pumps frantically in her chest, the winking sun above burning a hole through her defenses.

At the sight of Alabama, her father straightens up, a question on his lips, but Alabama holds up a hand, cutting him off. “This’ll only take a second.”

She stands in front of him and squares up her body, her nerves. “I know what you did to Griff.” Briefly, her father’s gaze flicks to the truck then back to her. “I know you threatened him with a DUI. I know you made him leave Clover.”

Her father’s face goes bright red. Then he huffs. “I’m not doin’ this, Alabama Grace.”

He turns away from her and heads to the house.

Alabama clenches her jaw and follows, crunching over dried leaves and dirt. “Oh, yes, we most certainly are doin’ this.” She walks fast after him. The volume of her voice increases. She’ll make him hear her. “You made Griff leave, Daddy. For so long I thought he didn’t love me, I thought he didn’t want me, but it was all you. You did it. How could you?”

Her father stops. So abruptly Alabama nearly runs into him.

“I had to,” he booms, crossing his meaty arms over his chest. “He was never gonna be good enough for you, Bama.”

Red colors her vision and she pulls her good hand to a fist. “But that was my decision, and you took that away. You called the shots when no one asked you to.”

“I did what I had to do to protect you.”

“Griff was a kid and he messed up. We both did. And so did you.”

Her father bristles, but Alabama plows ahead, plows down the sadness to dig deep for her own feelings. “I’ve been tryin’ to be like you my entire life. Be good, play by the rules, keep it honest. And the one time I didn’t, when I really needed you after Six String, you could barely look me in the eye. You were so embarrassed by me. Well, guess what? I was embarrassed by myself. But I made a mistake, I owned up to it, and you, my own father, couldn’t even stand by me to tell me it was all gonna be okay.”

Something like regret crosses her father’s face. “Alabama ...”

“You always taught me to do the right thing, but you didn’t. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Alabama’s chest tightens and she takes a shaky breath. “And you know what? Griff’s been there. He hasn’t made me feel bad or less than or worthless for what I did. He believed in me when you didn’t.”

Her father drops his head, saying nothing.

Alabama’s eyes burn. She can’t see his face, doesn’t need to. She’s done. She’s said all she has in her, and if he doesn’t understand, that’s on him.

With that, she turns on her heel and strides fast for the truck.

Once inside, Griff backs out of the drive. When they’re out of view of the house, Griff pulls over onto the shoulder of the road and lets the truck idle.

He turns toward her. “Are you okay?”

She stares straight ahead. Every part of her trembling, feeling as if it will burst. Feeling as if she will never be the same again.

“Yes.”

---