California Dreamin'

I’m not sure what Dean’s reaction is but I’m freaking speechless right now. All I can do is stand here and stare at my brother, who, after a second or two, shrugs.

“What? I’m not an idiot. I pick up on things. Fallon loves Dean. Everybody knows.”

His words bring me out of my stupor and I lunge at him. I literally lunge at him like I used to when we were kids and he takes off, screaming.

“Get back here, Brendan,” I shout after him.

I can hear my mom behind me, asking us to cut it out, but I don’t care. I’m also aware that Dean is witnessing our heathen behavior—mine and my brother’s—but the truth is that he already knows. He’s seen Brendan and me fight on numerous occasions so this isn’t new.

What’s new is the fact that my brother knows.

How does he know? Does everyone know?

Including my dad.

Gosh, please don’t let my dad know until I, or rather Dean, gets a chance to tell him.

So I run after my brother who’s still screaming, What’s the big deal? Everyone knows. Although he’s so much faster than me, not to mention his stupid long legs give him even more of an edge, that before I’m even halfway down the hallway that leads to our backyard, he’s already bursting out the door.

Even so, I try to catch up to him. But when my feet slip and I crash into something really hard that almost knocks the breath out of me, I know I’ve lost all hope.

But then, I don’t care about the lost hope or catching up to my brother or who knows what because I’ve just collided with the very person I’ve been thinking about all the way here.

My dad.

He has his hands on my arms, keeping me steady—thank God—and judging by the open door of his study, he’s just come out of it, probably after all the ruckus we were making.

Growing up, whenever Dad would work in his office, Mom would obviously tell us to be quiet. I’d obey her, of course. But I’d also miss my dad. So I’d open his door really quietly and tiptoe up to his desk. I’d even hold my breath so as to stay completely silent.

I used to think that if I didn’t make any noise, my dad wouldn’t notice a tiny silver-haired girl floating inside his room while he was focusing on work.

To his credit, he pretended to not notice me. He’d stay absorbed in whatever he was doing and I’d sit on the carpet, by the legs of his giant desk, and play with whatever I’d manage to sneak in.

And when he did notice me, he’d act so surprised that it made me laugh. He’d tell me that I had the prettiest laugh, just like my mom’s, and so I should never stop laughing.

Like my mom’s words, I think of his words too, at moments when I feel like I’ll never laugh again.

Right now, I smile up at him. “Dad.”

His gray eyes stare at me from behind his black-rimmed glasses, concerned and bright.

“You okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

He sighs, the lines around his eyes and that permanent crinkle between his brows deepening. “You both should know better than running in the house. Floors are slippery, Fallon.”

“But I didn’t slip,” I lie. I kinda did slip a little.

The lines on his face change places. A second ago, the lines around his eyes were bunched up but now, the lines surrounding his lips deepen.

“You didn’t,” he says in a flat voice.

I look at his face, the face that’s probably one of the first ones I saw when I came into this world. It’s a face that I’ve seen nearly every day of my life ever since, a face that means warmth and safety and home.

He means warmth and safety and home. He always will.

And so I can’t lie to him.

I sigh and my shoulders deflate. “Fine. I did slip. But only a little.”

Slowly, those lines deepen some more and he smiles.

My dad is super controlled. He doesn’t smile that often or talk that often either. We’re the ones who talk around him, Mom and me and Brendan, and sometimes we have bets on who can make Dad laugh. I usually win. Well, after Mom.

So this feels like a win. His small but affectionate smile.

I wrap my arms around his waist. “Fine. I can’t lie to you.”

That’s why I want to tell you that… I’m in love with someone. Someone you know. Please, don’t be mad.

I hope he won’t be.

I mean, he wasn’t a big fan of my high school boyfriend, Brad. My dad has never been a fan of any of the boys I used to hang out with even though they were only friends. He’s super protective of me.

I’d always obey him, no matter what.

But sometimes when I wouldn’t understand his highhanded ways, Mom would tell me that I’m his little girl and sometimes I should just cut him some slack. And other times, my mom would shake her head at my dad and let me do my thing, like going to the prom with Brad.