Tumble (Dogwood Lane 1) - Page 82
“I will come back and see you. Maybe for Thanksgiving? We could rent out Mucker’s and have our own holiday. All of us.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.” He sighs. “I have a lot of shit to do today. But I thought I’d call you and make sure you had my number. Don’t take it personally, though. I always make sure women have my number.”
My eyes water as I laugh at his very Penn-like way of being nice. A woman with a bag as big as a truck bumps me, and I don’t even care. I don’t even look at her. I just stare at the dirty window in front of the coffee shop and wish it were the Dogwood Café.
“I’ll call. I promise.” I sniffle.
“Do that. Not too much, though. That might be weird. But if you need something, give me a holler. I’d like to know you’re alive every now and then.”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now I gotta go because this guy I work for is a complete fucking asshole today, and he left Matt with a list of shit for me to do, and I have to figure out how to get out of it.”
Laughing, I grab a napkin off a table and dab at my eyes. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will. You too.”
“Bye.”
The line goes dead. Somehow, it feels like my connection to anything that makes me smile is also terminated.
CHAPTER THIRTY
DANE
It’s a hand-wash-the-dishes kind of night.
Rinsing the last few cups and setting them on a towel, I look out the window. It’s a beautiful summer evening. Although the sun isn’t quite set yet, there are lightning bugs going to town in the field outside. Neely would love it.
I flip off the water, irritated with myself, and grab a towel to dry my hands. All day, I’ve tried to retrain myself to not think of her. To not associate things with her. To not let my mind wander to a place where she exists.
There’s a chance I’ll have to buy a new truck. And burn most of my clothes. And sell the house.
Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I toss the towel back on the counter.
It hurts worse this time. Before, when she left, I was already prepared for it. She was leaving for school even before the whole Katie mess, and we had a rough plan for us to stay connected while she was gone. The key was this: She was coming home. That, and she wasn’t leaving me specifically.
Both keys are lost now. She’s not coming back, and it feels like a total rejection of a life I could’ve offered her, a life I live and wanted her to share with me. But that was my mistake. I hoped too much and I knew better.
Mia’s feet hit the floor above me. I listen to her rummage around the bathroom. Each moment that goes by tightens the knot a little harder in my stomach. She’s asked for Neely a few times tonight, and I wouldn’t humor Haley by listening to how many times she asked for her today. I have to tell her the truth, some version of the truth, and I don’t know how to do that.
If she cries, and I bet she will, I’ll probably break. This is my doing once again. This wound I’m getting ready to inflict was done at my hands even though I promised myself I’d never do it again.
I guess you can’t trust anyone. Not even yourself.
I wait for her feet to hit the hallway and for the mad dash to her bedroom. I wait and wait and wait, but it never comes. Heading for the stairs, I look up toward the hallway. Just as I put my hand on the banister, trying to decide whether I should check on her, her little voice calls out my name.
“Dad.” She says it in a way that’s not a shout and not a normal talking voice either.
I’m to the bathroom door in a half a second. “You okay, rascal?”
The door opens. Her eyes are filled with trepidation as she looks up at me, her hair wet from the shower. “Will you walk me to bed?”
“What’s this about?” I ask.
She shrugs. We make our way silently down the hall and to her room. She wastes no time climbing into her bed and getting buried under the blankets. Once she’s settled, I take my perch on the edge of the mattress.
Smoothing her hair off her forehead, I search her little eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Where’s Neely, Dad?”
“Home, I guess. I’m not sure.”
“Is she coming back?”
Emotion swallows me, sitting right across the bridge of my nose. I blink rapidly. I pray faster. I will myself to stay strong even though I want to go to my own room and fall face first into the mattress.
“She always told us she was going back to New York,” I say carefully. “We were expecting this, right?”
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