California Dreamin'

Anyway, Dad likes Dean, doesn’t he? So I’m hoping that he’ll be more receptive of the idea.

Dad’s smile turns into a chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you remember that.”

Smiling myself, I hug him and close my eyes. “I missed you, Dad.”

His own arms come around me and he hugs me back tightly.

For a few seconds he stays silent and I think this is the only gesture I’m going to get, him tightly squeezing me and enfolding me in his strong arms so nothing harmful can ever touch me.

But then he whispers in a tone that can only be called guttural, “Missed you too, kiddo.”

Okay, so today is going to be a tear-fest because hearing my dad’s low voice, tears well up in my eyes again and I clench them shut.

“I love you so much,” I whisper. “It’s so good to be back.”

I sense the change in him then. It’s not a bad change. In fact, I love that he rubs his chin on my head, making me feel all warm.

But I know what he’s going to say, what he’s been saying ever since I announced that I was moving to California for college earlier this year.

“The offer’s still open, Fallon. Just say the word, honey, and you can start your spring semester here,” he says. “In fact, they’re bringing in a couple of new people at the English department that I think you’re going to want to meet.”

My dad is the head of the Psychology department at a college here—he still works at Heartstone Psychiatric Hospital but only in a limited capacity since he wanted to spend more time with us and flexible hours in academia let him do that. And for the longest time, I wanted to go to the same school he teaches at.

But then, Dean up and left for the west coast, and I realized what I’d lost. So after spending two agonizing years away from the man I love, I decided to take the big plunge and move across the country.

Dad wasn’t happy, of course. He couldn’t understand why I’d make such a drastic decision and I couldn’t tell him. Not until I’d told Dean first.

Again, Mom came to my rescue and convinced Dad to let me go. And Dad can never refuse my mom—it’s a fact.

The day I left, I could see the hurt in his eyes, the suppressed water and it broke my heart into a million pieces. I don’t think I’d ever seen my dad on the verge of tears before that day.

I cried all through the six-hour plane ride. I didn’t know leaving my dad to go after the love of my life would hurt me so much, would hurt him so much.

But I’m back now and Dean is with me, and once he tells my dad, I’ll talk to him myself. He’ll understand, won’t he?

I move away from his embrace and look up at him as I paste on a courageous smile. “It’s okay, Dad. I like it in California. I really do. Everyone is really nice.”

By everyone, I mean maybe a handful of people that I’ve talked to.

So I haven’t really made any friends over there yet. I’ve been too busy pining over a certain dark-haired, brown-eyed man. And well, I tried to make friends with my roommate and when she asked me why I was there, I stupidly told her the real reason—that I was there for a man whom I’ve loved all my life and who is fourteen years older than me. Which totally grossed her out so now we don’t talk much.

Besides, I’m like my mom. I don’t like the sun or sunny things or beaches. I’m a winter girl. I like the rain and gray skies and so California isn’t really for me.

Dad frowns down at me, his eyes strangely knowing it all without me even telling him. “You’re lying to me.”

I blink my tears back. “Please, trust me, okay? California isn’t that bad.”

His face sets up in stone. “Well, I’d like it a lot more if it wasn’t three thousand miles away and if you didn’t insist on covering that distance in the longest time possible.”

I grimace. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

He shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to travel like that? Staying in motels in unknown places. Driving down highways for hours on end. One blink of an eye and anything can happen.”

“Dad—”

“If you insist on living so far away from us, you’re not doing this again,” he tells me sternly.

Defeated, I agree. “Yes, okay.”

“Good.”

I swallow and before I can change my mind, I say, “He took care of me, Dad. Dean took care of me.”

I say it to him on purpose. This is my tiny way of telling my dad that Dean is a good guy. Not that my dad didn’t know this already. Dean grew up in front of Dad but still.