Page 92 of Second Chance Vacation

“Is that why—”

“Yes,” Dad cuts me off, seemingly unintentionally. “It became so hard to be around you. To show you affection, so after a while, I just stopped…I thought you just instinctively knew, but retrospectively I can see how that wasn’t a sound thought.”

Tears begin to well in my eyes, but I work to fight them off. I’ve waited nearly my entire life to have this conversation with my dad, to understand why he is the way he is, but somehow, I still am shocked by it all. I struggle to keep the anger bubbling up at bay. Knowing his reasoning somehow doesn’t make it better. If anything, it makes me sad.

I bite back the instinct to argue with him, something that I realize is counterproductive. Yet, as my nails cut into the flesh of my palm, I somehow find solace in knowing the truth. Does it suck? Yeah, big time, but knowing that he was fueled by fear and pain avoidance stands to remind me that in an effort to stop myself from pain, I somehow became exactly like him in the process.

I don’t like that realization.

“—I love someone…I mean, really in love, the whole thing, but…I can’t seem to say it. I don’t know why.”

“The Miles boy?”

My eyes dart to him, a shocked expression painting my face, and he just grins.

“Just because we haven’t talked doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on with you. George and I talk pretty often. Always have.”

George Miles, Jackson and Hannah’s dad, doesn’t talk much, or at least he never did, so the fact that he and my dad talk at all, let alone often, is a bit of a shock to the senses.

“I hear he’s in Atlanta…”

I nod, still shocked that we’re even having this conversation. How had I managed to go from not having any emotional response from this man to discussing my love life?

“I’m terrified of it. I mean—look at—” I stop myself halfway to a statement that borders on cruel.

“Look at me after your mom?”

My gaze meets his as I just nod, unsure of what to say to him about it. I don’t want to bring up old emotions for him, but at the same time, I need this conversation to happen.

“Your mother and I…” He clears his throat, successfully keeping the emotion in his words at bay. “I loved your mom with everything in me. She was the center of my world. When she died, you’re right. It nearly killed me, but…I wouldn’t trade the time I had with her for anything…”

A tear pulls at my lash line, dropping down my cheek as it hits the front of my blouse.

“If I didn’t have your mom, I never would have had you. If not for your mom, I never would have known that kind of love, and despite her being gone…I am so happy that it happened. I’m sorry that I taught you differently.”

My nod is met with his own before my dad opens his arms to me.

The significance of this gesture doesn’t go unnoticed as I stand to step into my father’s arms for the first time in years. We haven’t hugged since my high school graduation, and before that, I couldn’t tell you when it was. He sighs into my hair, causing me to tighten my grip around his waist. He smells of potting soil and wintergreen chewing tobacco, and despite the disgusting combination, I feel a sense of home.

I’m reminded that, despite it all, despite the pain and the heartache of losing those that you love, that’s what it’s all about.

Loving and being loved—that’s home.

THIRTY-SIX

JACKSON

“Seriously, man—this is a bit much for an engagement party.” I laugh, slapping Wes on the shoulder.

Wes laughs, shaking his head, but doesn’t respond to my statement.

Savannah booked out The Cherokee Rose, an exclusive members-only club in Atlanta, for her and Wes’s engagement party. I’ve never been here, but it’s my understanding that, with the exception of events thrown by members, it is a pretty private club.

White satin and chiffon are braided together, draping over the entire room in an intricate pattern with fairy lights sandwiched between them, painting the entire room in an ethereal glow. The six tables set up around the room are situated in a horseshoe shape, forming them into one big family-style table. The same white chiffon from the ceiling is mixed with cream linen as a table runner, drawing one’s attention directly to the gold tablescape decorations and chargers.

“Savannah went all out, huh?” I say with a chuckle.

“You know her, doesn’t do anything half-assed.”

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