Here's to Forever (16 page)

I laugh to myself. A new beginning? We’ve had one before. Almost a year ago now, actually. After the accident involving Rae and Joey and almost losing them both, we started over. We built something new from scratch. So maybe this isn’t another beginning. Maybe it’s just the next chapter. Or even a second act. Either way, it’s new, it’s fresh, and it’s what is needed.

Pushing myself from the bed, I go in search of Rae. I have a hunch she’s out on the beach, standing there staring out at the ocean with the wind whipping her auburn hair around in a crazy-beautiful way. My suspicions are confirmed when I reach the full-length windows in the living room facing the shores. It’s easy to spot the outline of her small stature standing just at the water’s edge. Even from here I can tell she’s deep in thought and can just imagine she’s sporting that little crinkle between her brows as they’re drawn together tight in concentration. I can’t help but wonder what it is that’s got her so pensive.

I take my time pulling on a shirt and jeans and slipping into my shoes, hoping to give her some more time to work through whatever it is that’s bouncing around inside her head. I’d normally let her just go about her business and give her space, but with everything that’s happened between us lately, I can’t help wanting to know where her head is right now.

Following her footprints down to the beach, I stop short when I get close to her and admire the view in front of me. She’s gorgeous, effortlessly so. A burst of pride and happiness raps on my chest at the thought that she’s mine forever.

She must sense me approaching because she speaks before I even announce my arrival.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up.”

I take the last few steps toward her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. She leans into my embrace automatically, sighing in contentment.

“How long have you been out here?”

She shrugs. “An hour or so.” A small laugh. “It’s a shame I’ve let my past fears keep me from the water all my life. It’s peaceful out here. I think I’m a little in love with it.”

“It’s always been one of my favorite places. This exact stretch of beach, I mean. It’s quiet and never gets crowded, even during the tourist season. It’s the perfect place for a bonfire, cookout, party, or just a day of doing nothing. I’d always hoped that one day I’d be able to just pack up and move here permanently.”

“A year ago, I’d have said there was no way in hell I’d do that. But now I highly doubt I’d put up much of a fight.”

I kiss the top of her head, thankful for how hard she’s worked to overcome her fear of the water. “Let’s do it, then. Plan a future here with me, Joey, you.”

“You forgot Rocky. And our new puppy.”

She twists around to smirk up at me, at the confused look on my face. “We have a new puppy?”

“We will after you buy me one for being a jackass,” she answers.

I can’t help the laugh that escapes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Turning back around, she burrows into my embrace even further. “I know.”

She’s quiet again, and I can feel some apprehension creep into her body. I squeeze her tighter, rocking back and forth a little, almost in an effort to shake out what’s weighing on her.

Finally, after many more minutes of silence, I get the courage to ask. “What’s on your mind?”

“I want to see my dad.” Her response is so quiet that it almost gets lost in the wind.

“Okay. We can do that.”

Turning in my arms, she rests her head against my chest, fitting so perfectly that I can rest my chin on her head. I feel her head shake before she even speaks.

“No, Hudson. I need to do it alone.”

I sigh. Rae visiting with her father has potential to go south in a matter of moments. She’s angry, he’s hurting. They’re both in a very vulnerable spot. I don’t want her to be alone if it doesn’t end well. I’m scared she’ll turn what happens with him back onto us and run again. I can’t bear that.

But in the end, it’s not my decision.

“Okay.” Another deep breath. “Okay. When are you thinking of seeing him?”

She pulls back and peers up at me. I know she’s a little surprised by my reaction, but I can also see the appreciation shining from her eyes. My answer was most definitely the right one for her.

“Today.”

“Like
today
today?”

“Is there any other today?”

“No.”

“Then yes. I want to see him today.”

She steps away from my embrace, and I don’t miss the way she plants her feet into the sand just a little more, locking her legs in place, readying herself to stay firm on this. She doesn’t need to, though. I won’t argue with her or try to talk her out of it. If she thinks this is what she needs, then this is what she needs. I won’t stand in her way.

“I need to say everything I need to say while I have the courage to do so. Today is when I have it. So it has to be now.”

I give her a firm nod. “I’ll go get the car ready.”

I’m being tormented. By a fucking door.

It only took us thirty minutes to shower, dress, pack, and load the car for our trip home. Our ride was filled to the brim with deafening silence. But it wasn’t a cold silence. It was as comforting as it was necessary.

I know Hudson is worried about my decision to go see my father, but my intentions are nothing but pure. I’m not going out of anger or hurt. I’m going for answers, for resolutions, for truths. We need to move forward, to bridge that gap we’ve created in our relationship. I’m finally ready to break out the tools to begin building. Maybe one day I’ll even walk over it.

So here I am, standing on my father’s doorstep, attempting to build. But I can’t bring myself to start. I can’t knock—my hands won’t let me. I can’t curl my fist or raise my arm or rap my knuckles. None of it is possible. I’m stuck.

And the door is fucking mocking me.

Before I realize what I’m doing, and purely out of frustration, I rear my leg back and kick the door hard enough to rattle. I cry out as pain races up my foot.
Fuck you, door!

“Fuck!”

The inanimate object that’s been teasing me for the past ten minutes opens up in a matter of seconds.

My father stands on the other side.

I can’t help the surge of anger that passes through me. I want to scream and accuse and point every single finger I have at him. But I don’t.

Instead, I clear my throat and speak to my father for the first time in almost a year. “Hi.”

Hi?
Yep, that’s all I’ve got.

A smile ghosts his lips. “Hello.”

Then we stand there. Staring. It’s awkward, it’s irritating, it’s agonizing, and it’s relieving. It’s all these different emotions at once. It’s overwhelming to the point of tears. But I refuse to cry.

He scratches at the short beard covering his face then opens the door a little more with hesitation. “Do you want to come in?”

I want to laugh at this entire situation. Last year, I’d have just knocked once and waltzed right into his house. I wouldn’t have had to stand at his doorway with trepidation covering every action. However, things have changed. Majorly. This is just another side-effect of that change.

“Sure.”

I move past him, not pausing in the entryway, and head straight for the living room. I pause when I see that he’s gotten new furniture. Another change.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks cautiously.

“No, I’m fine. I just… Can we get this over with?”

His shoulders sink at my words. I cringe because that came out sounding entirely too bitchy, and that’s not how I meant it.

“Sorry,” I start. “That didn’t sound like it should have. I have things to say and the courage to do so right this moment, and I just need to get it out. That’s all.”

He nods. “I understand. I have things of my own to say. Want to sit?”

“Nice couch,” I comment, taking a seat on it. It’s comfortable. Actually, it’s probably the only comfortable thing in this room. Everything else is suffocating, stiff, and unnerving.

I run my hands back and forth over the fabric, watching as it turns from a dark chocolate brown to a light mocha color with each stroke. It parallels life in a way. Like how just one simple act can impact things, changing them for everyone. I wish I could just wave my hand over it and change it back to a year ago, back to when things were simple, when I wasn’t hurting so much.

“Rae?” My father’s voice drags me from my thoughts. I turn toward him. “You wanted to talk?”

Folding my hands in my lap, I clear my throat. “I do.”

I fidget, my confidence waning by the minute. I had it all planned out: storm the front door, demand to talk, say what I had to say, and leave. That was it. Nothing fancy, nothing dramatic. Sitting here now feels the exact opposite. It feels complicated, climactic.

“So…”

I jump a little, startled by his voice. It seems loud, though I know it’s not.

“I want to start off by saying this: I love you.”

Glancing up, I watch his eyes fill with tears that threaten to spill over.

“I…”

I hold my hand up, stopping him. “Wait. Please. Let me get this out.”

He nods. I blow out a breath.

“I have had a lot of time to think about everything that happened last year. Sometimes, when I think about it, I get pissed. Sometimes I don’t, and I understand why you kept my ‘nightmare’ as just that, as a dream. I’ve come to terms with what happened back then, when Mom watched me drown. I know she was sick, Haley told me.”

He doesn’t react to that confession. I assume Hudson told him my sister and I have been on speaking terms for the past nine months or so.

“I never truly blamed her for taking her own life, but I have always wondered what led to it. It all makes sense now. There was a brief moment where I felt responsible, that what transpired on the beach is what led her over the edge, but I don’t think that anymore. I’m a little grateful for that part of everything, for believing it was a dream all these years. Because I
would
have felt that growing up. I’d have believed it was my fault she was gone. I’m old enough now to know the difference. I feel like I’ve been spared that particular kind of pain.”

I pause for a moment, dabbing at my eyes with the backs of my hands, trying to keep the tears at bay. I can see that my father is openly crying now. It hurts. But so does what’s happened.

“So I guess I’m saying thanks,” I continue. “Thanks for sparing me, for trying to help me. I don’t fully agree with it, but I understand it. I get it. You didn’t want me to feel at fault. Thank you.”

He acknowledges me by nodding, but not speaking yet.

“Now on to the anger. I’m mad. So damn irritated, Dad. It’s like every horrid dream I had for all those years is swimming around inside of me. I hate it, and it’s so hard to not want to direct that anger at you because you’re here. But again, that day isn’t your fault, just how you handled it is. I wish I had a better way of explaining that. I know it sounds like a mess, and that’s because it’s still all jumbled up inside here.” I hold my finger up to my temple. “I’m still working through it all.”

Lowering my hand, I go back to petting the couch, amazed again at how it relates to our conversation.
I’m
the one controlling the changes, how the couch changes with my touch. That choice was taken from me all those years ago. I didn’t get to deal with my problems myself. I didn’t get to choose how I handled my mother’s suicide or my drowning. I was young, so decisions were made for me. I can’t help but wonder how different I’d be now if I’d have felt more loved by her, if I’d have understood why she pushed me away so much. I’ll never get the chance to change how angry and neglected I felt, and it’s saddening that I carried those feelings for so many years. She didn’t deserve it. If I knew back then what I know now, I doubt I’d be feeling this now.

I’m quiet long enough for him to speak.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like your mother didn’t love you, that I didn’t explain better what was ailing her. I should have. You should have learned of Erin’s problems from me, not Haley. That was unfair.”

I whip my head toward him at his words.
Unfair? What’s unfair is being lied to!

“Why did you lie to me? For all those years, why lie? Why not ease me into the truth? Why keep up a façade? Especially when you knew how much those dreams haunted me?”

“I was trying to protect you, Rae.”

I spring from the couch, pacing the length of the couch in frustration.

“Protect me? I don’t need protecting. I need honesty.”

“You don’t understand a father’s need to protect his little girl.”

“That’s the same thing Hudson said.”

“He’s right. It’s…it’s indescribable. You have this urge to just twist her up in bubble wrap and never let her leave a white padded room. You want so badly to watch her grow into a smart, stable woman, but you also constantly look at her and see this fragile little girl, the one that begged to play dolls or paint your fingernails when she was six.”

I smile at his reference to my old favorite pastime. I used to love painting my dad’s nails. I wanted to make him as pretty as me, and that’s the only way that made sense to me back then. I worshipped my father. He was my role model, my savior, my champion.