“You’re right. He can’t change who he was because that’s in the past. But maybe he can change who he is.”
I hear what she’s saying, but I don’t think for a second that he’s capable of that.
“Do you believe people can change, Lincoln?” she asks.
“Yes, but—”
“You said this is the longest he’s ever been sober. Maybe this is the clearest his mind has ever been, and now he’s able to visualize the past with a different lens—a sober lens.”
I’m shaking my head before she finishes her sentence. “You don’t know him like I know him.”
“You’re right. What he did was horrible, inexcusable, and I’m not condoning it. But you want to believe he can change; I can see it in your eyes. You’re just scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Yes, you are. You’re scared that if he does change, if he tries to atone for his actions, you’ll be tempted to forgive him.”
“I will never forgive him for the things he put us through.”
“You’re probably right, and no one would blame you. But maybe you could learn to move on. Maybe you could get to know the man your father is today—the man he wants to be—while he’s still here.”
“Maybe,” I mumble, looking at the front door.
I picture him sitting in the living room, day after day, fighting his demons. Alone. And while I spent many nights fighting my demons alone, it still doesn’t sit well with me.
“What if I let him in and he relapses?”
“What if he doesn’t?”
I close my eyes, and when I open them, I unbuckle Adley and pull her into my arms. “I don’t know where to start,” I say, pressing my face to her hair.
I breathe her in.
Soft.
Warm.
Familiar.
Home.
“Maybe you could start by inviting him to Chloe’s graduation party.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I say, pulling back.
“Why not?”
Hell if I know.
“Because of Chloe?” she asks.
“Well, there’s that. And he hasn’t been out in public in years. I’m not even sure people realize he’s still alive.”
Adley’s brows dip low. “That’s really sad.”
“It is.” We sit in silence for several minutes, and then I open the door.
Adley’s hand on my arm stops me. “Where are you going?”