Page 15 of Cruel Love

“He’s about the same.” I dished some potatoes onto my plate before passing the bowl to Dad. “He still thinks he’s fourteen.”

Mom paused, the salad tongs suspended over her plate. “He still doesn’t remember about the baby? About your relationship?”

My heart stuttered. It hurt that he didn’t remember me, but in a way, things were so much better. “No. But it’s not all bad. He wants me around all the time, which makes me think somewhere in his subconscious, he knows what we had and doesn’t want to let it slip away.” I shrugged. That was a lot to admit.

“What about his football career? Will he be able to play again?” Dad asked.

I almost dropped my fork. He’d refused to look at me when I came in and hadn’t spoken to me in weeks. I was surprised he’d addressed me at all.

“He’ll be fine. Physically, he’s recovering, and from what I’ve heard, nothing will prevent him from returning to the game next year.”

“Hmm.” Dad flicked his gaze to me before returning it to the pot roast he was systematically demolishing. “What will happen to you and the baby when he gets an NFL offer? Or if he doesn’t?”

“I’m capable of taking care of myself.” My hand shook, probably with the effort it took to keep my voice calm. “I’m not without skills.”

“Honey”—Mom’s rested a hand on Dad’s, but her words were for me—“that’s not what your father meant. He’s worried about how you’ll support yourself and a baby. It’s not easy to do it on your own.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not, then.” I shoved a large forkful of salad into my mouth and chewed angrily. They knew nothing about the business I was already working on setting up or how both versions of Phoenix had refused to abandon his child. Even if I had trouble making ends meet, I knew he would find a way to give our child what she needed.

No one said anything for several minutes, and I stewed silently. Mom had defended Dad. It was… weird. I wished my sister had been there to witness it—she wouldn’t believe it when I told her.

“How’s work at the diner?” Mom’s voice was slightly high-pitched.

I let the moment go, following her lead with a subject change. “It’s great. I like Dillon, the owner, a lot. He’s also super flexible with our shifts, and the other girls are fun to work with.”

“Aren’t you exhausted?” Mom pushed her mashed potatoes around on her plate while Dad heaped more pot roast onto his. “I remember when I was pregnant with you, I needed to take so many naps.”

I shrugged, warding off the arctic blast her comment seemed to stir from Dad. “I’m tired, but I find time for a power nap here and there. It’s been okay, and I like getting out and working.”

Dad shook his head. “Of the two of you girls, I never thought it would be you.”

“Honey.” Mom squeezed his hand before turning to me. “What about friends?”

I ignored Dad and continued to answer her. “Max is my closest friend. I think I told you about him. We met in 2D art class at the beginning of the semester.”

“Oh, yes. Very handsome.”

I smiled. “Yep, he is.” It was clear she hadn’t picked up on how platonic our relationship was. Phoenix might have been someone my dad would have liked before he found out about the baby, but Mom was a tougher sell when it came to settling on one person. “I also go to the beach with a few girls.”

“Other surfers?”

“Two of the girls surf, and one doesn’t. You might have heard of Riley Matthews.” Dad read those alumni magazines religiously. He had to have heard of her.

“The Olympic hopeful?” His face revealed nothing.

What is going on with him? It’s like he can barely stand to be at the same table as me. “Yeah, she’s pretty cool and is also dating Cole Savage.”

“Phoenix’s cousin, right?” Mom looked to Dad for confirmation.

He nodded then stood and took his plate to the sink, turning his back on us. I glanced at Mom, catching her as she closed her eyes for a brief respite. They were more of a united front than ever before. I could tell in the moment when she defended him. Still, I was pissed.

“Why did you want me to come when you don’t even talk to me?” I stood. I was over it. Mom might have been acting cool, but Dad was not. “I’m going.” I was enraged by how he was behaving, but behind the anger was deep sadness. I would deal with that later. “You’re being judgmental, and your unhappiness with whatever—me, life, I don’t know—is toxic. And I gotta go.”

“Aspen.” Mom jumped up from the table and followed me. Of course, Dad hadn’t moved. “I’m so sorry. Something happened at work today, and he’s processing.”

“It’s whatever. I’ll talk to you later.” I hugged her then left. I couldn’t get out of there quickly enough.

It took three tries to start my car. As soon as the engine turned over and held, I headed home. What am I going to do? My ancient car needed work, which cost money. Phoenix wanted me to come over, and I badly wanted to go. I genuinely liked talking to him. It wasn’t like before. There was patience and understanding there. He asked me questions about my day, family, and surfing. And he listened, genuinely interested in my answers. I felt like he really saw me. That part of our relationship had been severely lacking prior to the accident.

---