Always You (Adair Family 3)

“Hey …” She touched my arm. “First session is rough, huh?”

Surprised, I nodded. “You too?”

“Oh, yeah. It was really hard. Telling a stranger everything I felt without censoring it to make it more palatable the way I did for the people in my life … yeah, that was like I was slowly scraping off the layers of my skin. Excruciating.”

Something in me eased. “So that’s normal, then?”

“Yeah, it’s normal.”

“How did you push through it and return for more?”

“Because the pain I was carrying around on a daily basis was a million times worse, and I wanted to find a way to move on without it,” she answered.

Pain I’d caused.

“Don’t, Dad.”

I nodded, swallowing the bitter emotion. “That’s one of the reasons I bit the bullet and went. To deal with how I feel about not being there for you. I want to”—I heaved a massive sigh, trying to alleviate the pressure on my chest—“I want to do better. I fucked up with you, and we can’t ever get those years back. I don’t want to keep repeating that mistake.”

“We went over this. What happened between us wasn’t just your fault. Mom had a hand in it too.”

I would never lay the blame for my part in it at Stacey’s feet. Yes, she’d done wrong, but she’d done it because I’d hurt her. She’d loved me, and I’d never really loved her back. If I hadn’t stayed in the relationship because she fell pregnant, I wouldn’t have led her on, and maybe things would’ve turned out differently. “I stayed away because I thought you deserved better, and all I did was hurt you more.”

Emotion brightened Robyn’s eyes, eyes she’d inherited from me. “Do you know why I forgave you for all that and decided I wanted you in my life as my dad?”

I shook my head—I’d never really understood that kindness. Was only grateful for it.

“Because I know that as much as it hurt me, I think it hurt you just as much. I see that. I feel it. I’ve always been an action-over-words kind of person, and from the moment I came back into your life, you have been there for me every step of the way.”

She squeezed my arm again as I choked down the emotion. “I’m glad you’re going to therapy because you need to work this out and start seeing yourself for who you really are. I don’t want you making that same mistake over and over again either. I don’t want my dad to end up alone when there’s”—her attention flickered to the house and then back to me—“someone who loves him like he deserves.”

I pushed words out through the constriction in my throat, “She might never forgive me. I might never have that with her.”

She raised an eyebrow. “But you’re ready to try?”

“Well, the therapy is a starting point. I know I’m useless to her as I am, but maybe if I can get my head screwed on straight, it might work between us. If she forgives me.”

“I think that’s great.”

Apprehension filled me. “I hate to ask, but can you not mention this to Lachlan yet? I want to be the one to discuss this with him when I’m ready.”

“You got it. I won’t say a word,” she promised.

Overwhelming love filled me. “I’m so grateful for you, wee birdie.”

Robyn reached out to squeeze my hand. “Back at you, Dad.”

Dad. That one word was a balm to so many wounds. When Robyn first arrived in Ardnoch, I was Mac. When she started calling me Dad, it was the best goddamn gift in the world.

I’d fought my demons to be a better father to her.

I’d done it.

Gazing at Arro’s house, feeling a pull toward it as I always did toward her, I tasted hope on my tongue.

Because if I’d fought my self-destructive thoughts once before, I could do it again.

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