Teach You to Love Me (Lindon U #4)

Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Rachel

T here’s something poking my cheek, stirring me from the much-needed sleep I fell into only a few hours ago based on the time on the alarm clock when I groggily peel one eyelid open.

“Pssst,” someone whispers, jabbing me.

Mumbling incoherently, I swat them away.

“Psssssssst.”

Grabbing the other pillow that smells freshly of lavender laundry detergent, I cover my face with it and turn onto my side, hoping the intruder will go away.

“Psssssssssssssst.”

“Oh my God,” I groan tiredly, getting the pillow taken away from me.

When I peel both eyes open, I see my sister’s bubbly face peering over me. “Oh, good,” she says, the hazel-green eyes we share bright with unabashed mischief. “You’re awake.”

I blink past the bright light streaming through the window, suddenly remembering where I am when I see the pale blue walls covered in forgotten boy band posters I used to obsess over as a teenager.

When my eyes finally adjust to the sunlight beaming in through the open white curtains, I look to the girl who looks so much like me and Mom. Same round, soft face, warm features, and button nose. “How could I not be when you’re stabbing me with those claws?”

Brie stares at her pointy brown nails with pumpkins and leaf designs covering a few fingers. “They aren’t as long as they used to be. I’m getting used to them being shorter.”

That’s not like her. She’s always prided herself on having long, polished nails with extravagant designs that she spends way too much money on at the salon. “Why?”

Her top teeth bite down into her bottom lip to fight a growing smile. “Well…” Her mouth grows into a bigger smile, making my brows pinch the longer she stares at me with an excited expression.

Grumbling, I rub my tired eyes. I got up early to beat traffic. I didn’t sleep well since I had no idea what I was walking into. Dad and I have barely spoken over the past couple of months. Every time he tried, our phone calls became stretched out with awkward silence. I never ask about Tatum, and anytime he brings her up, I shut down. It didn’t make me excited to come home, even if I was looking forward to a home-cooked meal.

“Is there a reason you felt the need to wake me up at…” I glance at the alarm clock again and sigh internally. I’ve barely slept for two hours. “Noon? I thought I asked Dad to let me sleep until at least two. He said dinner wasn’t going to be until six anyway.”

“It’s the afternoon. You should be up by now. You’re the morning person out of the two of us.”

Usually, that’s right, but I only got a couple hours of sleep last night. Dropping my head onto my pillow, I blow out a raspberry. “Not today I’m not. Plus, it’s Thanksgiving. I should be allowed to be lazy.”

She repositions on the bed, using my blanket to cover her legs. “I can’t wait any longer. I wanted to tell you sooner, but we had to make sure the home tests were right.”

My brain is still slowly waking up, so I’m not understanding what she’s saying as I repeat her words in my head. “Brie, what are you—” I stop myself when it clicks, sitting up quickly with wide eyes. Home tests. “You’re not.”

She nods, giving me a white, toothy smile.

“Oh my God.” My gaze goes to her flat belly, which she starts caressing lovingly.

My sister is pregnant.

Brie beams when I look back up at her. “I made Ryan drive us here early so I could tell you first. He’s helping Dad make the green bean casserole downstairs.”

I don’t bother pointing out that none of us like that casserole because her news is far bigger than the fact Tatum has messed up our holiday tradition again by adding new side dishes and trying to take our old ones out.

“I’m the first one you’ve told?”

Her head bobs enthusiastically. “There’s nobody I’d rather tell first. You’ve been the one in my corner our whole lives. Even when we disagree about…stuff.”

Stuff. People. Same difference.

“Brie…” Words are beyond me. I lean forward and wrap her in a tight hug. “Congrats, sis. I’m so happy for you.”

She hugs me back, squeezing me the same way I am her. “Ryan and I went to the hospital a while back,” she admits quietly, peeling away and nibbling her lip. “To do the genetic testing. We wanted to see if I was a carrier for Huntington’s like Mom was before we started trying. You know, just in case.”

Why didn’t she tell me? “When did you do that? I could have come with you. We could have done it together like we talked about after Mom…”

Sheepishness coats her face. “I was going to ask, but you’ve been so hesitant to come home. I figured if I asked, you’d make an excuse not to.”

I know I haven’t been Dad’s or Tatum’s number one fan, but that wouldn’t have stopped me from finding time to support my sister. “I’d do anything for you, Brie Cheese. You should know that by now.”

Her eyes flicker down. “You didn’t stay for me. You used to promise you wouldn’t leave like Mom did.”

She’d begged me not to go back to Lindon after Mom passed and cried when I told her I was going to attend grad school there. I never wanted to see her look that way again, knowing I did it to her. Deep down, I know it was selfish to leave because of Dad and the memories surrounding me here when Brie was going through the same thing.

But I still left.

Chest aching, I grab her hand. “I’ll never leave like Mom did. I never want you to think you can’t call me about this sort of stuff. We always said we’d get tested together if we decided to go through with it.”

She nods. “I know, but…” A tiny sigh escapes her lips. “You’ve had more important things to focus on. You’re busy with school and work. I want you to be happy, and I know being here is hard for you.”

Guilt wraps its claws around my heart and pierces it. “I’m sorry, Brie. I’ve been pretty selfish, huh?”

She shakes her head. “You’ve been living your life. It’s no different than what we’re doing here, right?”

I guess. I look at her stomach again. “I still can’t believe you’re pregnant. So, the tests you did at the hospital were…?”

“I’m not a carrier,” she confirms with a warm smile. “It was pretty scary. Once we found out, we decided to go for it. I’m actually further along than I thought because the last couple of periods I had weren’t actually my cycle. I guess it happens to people. If it weren’t for the horrible back pain that led me to the doctor’s, I probably would have wound up on that show I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant . It seemed wild to me that women wouldn’t know something like that, but then I took eight different tests after getting home from the doctors to make sure they weren’t lying to me.”

I laugh. “Why would they lie to you about something like that? It’s their job to tell you these things.”

“They could have accidentally switched my pee out for somebody else’s,” she theorizes. “Or switched my file with the person next door. Crazier things have happened. Did you hear about the surgeon who accidentally took out the wrong organ from his patient and killed him? Because, apparently, that happens sometimes.”

I didn’t hear about that. “That’s…bad.”

“For all I know, I could have a doctor like that who obviously doesn’t know how to read. Negative could look positive to them.”

I roll my eyes. “How far along are you?”

“Four months.”

My eyes widen. I’m starting to see why she could have been a valid candidate for the next season of that show. “Wow, that’s…” All I can do is soak that in for a minute, taking in how much she glows. “I’m going to be an aunt.”

Her head bobs. “Worth being woken up for? Or…?”

I laugh, hugging her again. “I guess so.”

Her arms wrap around me and squeeze tightly. “Did I mention that there’s food? Ryan and I made candied yams since you made them last Thanksgiving. And we brought the ingredients for the stuffing to do later.”

“The stuffing is already done,” a new voice says from the doorway, breaking us apart.

Brie and I turn to her husband, who’s in his typical jeans and plaid shirt combo. If I went through their closet at home, I’d find multiple pieces of the same thing.

“Hey, Ryan,” I greet.

Brie frowns. “You made the stuffing? I thought we were going to do it with Rachel.”

Her husband jabs his thumb behind him toward the stairs. “I told that to your dad and Tatum, but she insisted that she’d make it to let Rach sleep longer.”

Ryan welcomes himself into my childhood bedroom, looking around at the décor that’s barely changed over the years.

My sister and I exchange a look, her frown deepening when she hears that Dad’s girlfriend took it upon herself to make the sacred recipe. The last time she insisted on making one of the side dishes we’d perfected for years, she didn’t do it right. When we pointed it out, Dad scolded us for being rude. But he knows I hate raisins in the stuffing. When I pointed that out, he simply told me to pick them out.

“Your dad was helping her with it,” he reassures knowingly when he catches a glimpse of our worried expressions. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Stretching, I wince when my shoulder pops and settles back into its socket. “If you’re not letting me go back to sleep, can we at least go downstairs so I can be properly caffeinated?”

Ryan helps Brie slide off the bed, winding a supportive arm around her back until she gets her footing as if she’s already nine months pregnant.

He’s going to be a good dad.

“Tatum already has a pot going,” Brie tells me. “She knows how much you love your caffeine, so she made a fresh one.”

I try not to make a face. I was able to avoid Tatum this morning by arriving late, thanks to a bad pileup on I-81. It hadn’t been an intentional move, although I’m sure she thinks it was deliberate since she told Dad after I left over the summer that she felt awkward the entire time we’d had dinner, thanks to the weird lulls in conversation.

Tossing the comforter off me, I follow Ryan and Brie to the staircase, where I hear laughter echoing from the kitchen below.

Brie links our elbows together. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly.

I glance at the old family photographs still hanging on the walls and knock my shoulder against hers. “Yeah, I’m fine. Being back here feels weird, is all. Dad and I never really resolved anything from last time.”

Her eyes go to the closest family picture of us with Mom and Dad all posing in color-coordinated outfits that Mom chose. It was fall, so she opted for maroon sweaters that itched and made Brie and me wear matching braided hairstyles. At the time, I thought it was dumb. But now I’d do anything to do another set of pictures with her. Matching outfits and all.

Ryan turns to look over his shoulder. “It’s only as weird as you make it.”

Brie tugs on my arm. “He’s right, you know. I think we’re going to have a lot of fun while we’re here. And if you need me to pretend like I know about the boy you’re madly in love with at Lindon to get Dad and Tatum off your back about themselves, then I’m game.”

My heart drops at the thought of Matt. “Boy?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. Your fictional boyfriend. We can make something up as we go.”

I give her a long look, feeling only slightly relieved. “I’m good, but thanks.”

Brie giggles. “I’m just saying, it could be fun. I did go to theater camp that one summer. I learned some things. But if you want to be all honest and boring, that’s fine too. It’s probably better they don’t think you’ve got someone, or they’ll grill you about where he is and why he’s not here with you.”

Snorting, I say, “Says the girl who’s been pressing me to get laid before my vagina shrivels up forever.”

“That’s an interesting conversation to walk into,” Tatum says next to my red-faced father beside her.

Both Brie and my brother-in-law start laughing when my face turns a similar shade of red as Dad’s. “Er, sorry, Dad. We were just talking about…Never mind.”

After a moment of pause where all of them are watching me, it’s Tatum who says, “We have some leftover breakfast if you’re hungry, Rachel.”

Ryan and Brie go into the dining room after Tatum walks into the kitchen to grab the dishes and silverware, leaving only Dad and me by the staircase.

“Sorry I was late,” I tell him. “That accident on 81 caused standstill traffic for over an hour, and I already had a late start to my drive. I thought I’d be here earlier.”

Dad shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo. We’re glad you made it safe. The news was covering the accident this morning. I guess there was black ice from the temperature drop. Thankfully, there were no fatalities, but someone did need to be airlifted. It was better you kept it easy.”

Brie’s laughter has us both turning to the dining room, where she and Ryan are looking at something on her phone.

I wrap an arm around Dad’s waist and rest my cheek against his shoulder. “I’m excited to be here and eat food I don’t have to make, order, or microwave. Even if Brie wakes me up like she used to when we were little.”

He chuckles, winding his arm around me and hugging me into him. “I tried getting her to leave you be, but you know how she gets.”

Nodding at the familiar reply, I let out a soft laugh. “I wouldn’t have wanted to get in her way right now. I heard what she almost did to Ryan’s coworker at their Fourth of July party.”

From the dining room, Brie says, “He asked if I gained weight! I was bloated. That ass is lucky I didn’t tackle him. He would have snapped like a glowstick.”

Ryan snorts, Dad chuckles, and I shake my head. “Then you probably would have been arrested for assault, sis,” I point out, walking with Dad to join them at the table.

Brie waves me off. “If you saw the police force they have here now, you’d know they wouldn’t arrest me. They all know me.”

When Ryan and Tatum come in with all the dishes, they’re both smiling over whatever conversation they were having in the kitchen.

Tatum looks at me and says, “It’s true. I was just telling your sister that one of the troopers was asking about you, Rachel.”

I blink. “Asking about me ?”

Realistically, I know there’s only one person who’d be asking about me. But I’m still surprised Michael would bother Tatum about it.

Dad puts his hand on Tatum’s arm. “Tate, maybe now isn’t the best time for that.”

Instead of listening, his girlfriend waves him off and starts setting the table. “Michael Phillips. I bumped into him at the grocery store, and we started talking about our holiday plans. Once he heard you were coming into town, he asked if you were bringing anybody.”

It feels like everybody’s eyes are on me.

Brie with a frown.

Dad with caution.

Rolling my shoulders over the sound of my high school boyfriend’s name, I say, “Dad is right. Now isn’t the best time.”

Once upon a time, I thought maybe I’d marry him. He told me it was a mistake to break up because we could be a sure thing. And when date after date failed over the last couple of years, I began wondering if he was right. It seemed like I cursed myself by leaving him, and Pennsylvania, behind me.

Tatum pauses, looking at me with an exasperated frown. “Was it really that bad? From what your father told me about the breakup—”

“Why would Dad tell you about my high school relationship ending? That was like seven or eight years ago now. It’s insignificant.”

Sure, I’ve seen Michael since. But it was barely anything to write home about. I don’t even think I mentioned it to my father unless Brie did.

But that’s not what Tatum says. “Your father and I spoke about it when it first happened.”

What? I stare at him, slowly trying to connect all the dots from the information I’m being given.

Because Dad said he met Tatum after Mom passed away. But Michael Phillips and I dated my entire four years of high school, breaking up when we were going to different colleges. I’d been confused and sad when I chose to end it and move away, even though I believed it was the better option than having a long-distance relationship.

Dad gives Tatum a warning expression before turning to me. “You were pretty torn up about it at the time, and nothing me or your mother or sister said seemed to help.”

If Dad told Tatum about it when it happened, then…

Dad steps toward me, reaching out when he sees the twisted expression on my face as I put two and two together. Because I think my dad cheated on my mom. “It isn’t what you think, kiddo.”

I jerk my hand away, looking at my sister quizzically. “Did you know about this?”

Tatum intervenes. “Your father was worried about you, Rachel. It was nothing ill-intentioned. He came to me for advice because he thought I might have been where you were before. He wanted an outside perspective.”

An outside perspective? Jesus.

“Tatum, enough,” Dad tells her in a voice I haven’t heard him use on her before. “You’re not helping right now.”

She straightens at his tone but remains silent when she sees the daggers in my eyes.

Brie clears her throat. “I’m a little fuzzy on the details,” she admits, and I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or our father. “But I found out a while ago that they knew each other before Mom died. Remember when we messed up my hair during high school by trying to dye it blond and making it orange instead right before picture day? The salon she took me to was where Tatum worked. I guess she kept going back after that.”

I take a step back. “Wow.”

Dad steps toward me. “Rachel—”

“No, Dad.” I hold up my hand, feeling heartbroken for Mom. “There was obviously a reason you lied about when you actually met and started getting to know each other, so don’t tell me it was nothing. Mom was sick .”

Shaking my head, I stare at the man who’s lied to me for years. It was bad enough that he moved on from Mom so quickly, but cheating on her when she could barely function? That’s a new level of low I didn’t think he was capable of.

“I’m not dealing with this,” I inform him, walking out of the room.

I don’t know where I’m going when I walk into the kitchen and collect my bag and keys. All I know is that I want to get out of here.

Brie walks in after me. “You promised that you’d stay! You can’t leave.”

“I need air,” I tell her. “I need…”

Dad follows me into the kitchen. “If you give me a few minutes to explain—”

“So you can lie again?” I snap. “Pass.”

Tatum sighs. “Rachel, you’re not being very fair to your father right now.”

Is she kidding me? I turn my daggered eyes on her. “And you haven’t been fair to any of us since you came into our life, so pot meet kettle.”

Brie suddenly blurts out, “I’m pregnant.”

Dad and Tatum both turn to her with shocked expressions on their faces.

My sister wiggles her hands like jazz fingers. “Surprise.”

Ryan sighs at the announcement. “That’s not exactly how we planned on telling you guys.”

Still not wanting to be here, I grab my keys. “Congratulations.”

Brie’s eyes sadden. “Are you coming back? I want time with you.”

I hesitate but eventually nod. “Give me a little time. I’ll be back. Okay?”

I look at Dad and shake my head, my stomach sinking. He opens his mouth to try saying something, but I walk out before I hear more bullshit.

When I climb into my car, I pull out my phone and let my thumb hover over the call button next to the new number I saved into my phone when sleep evaded me last night.

Sighing, I put it down before dialing Matt’s number and drive off before Dad or Tatum can come out and convince me to come back inside.

*

Wilber Park is pretty this time of year—full of orange, yellow, and red leaves on trees that fall gracefully onto the ground and cover the walking paths for shoes and boots to crunch on. It’s shaded, so the park never gets too hot or too cold when you walk the two-mile trail.

Mom used to take Brie and me to the playground here to blow off steam when we were little. When she really wanted to make sure we’d go to bed early, she’d make us walk the trail twice until we were heavy-eyed on the car ride back home.

It’s been years since I’ve been here, and barely anything has changed, save a few tobacco-free signs somebody hung up on the pavilion and the start of the first walking trail.

As the sun starts setting, I regret not changing into something more practical. I hug myself for warmth to fight the cool breeze assaulting my arms in the long-sleeved shirt I’m wearing.

Pulling my phone out, I swipe over all the worried text messages from Brie, Ryan, and Dad that I’ve ignored over the past few hours of being out and go to my contact list.

I don’t bother typing out a message to the number I’ve never used before. Instead, I hit the call button and listen to it ring. Once. Twice. By the third one, I think I should have held off. It’s the holidays. He’s probably with his family.

But then he picks up.

Letting out a sharp, relieved breath that he didn’t ignore the call, I fight the emotion rising up my throat. “Hi.”

There’s some shuffling on Matt’s end of the phone before a confidant, “Hi, Ruby Red.”

Throat bobbing at the familiar nickname, I feel a sense of relief ease my otherwise tense, knotted muscles. “I needed…” My voice cracks, forcing me to clear it. “I needed to talk to someone, and you’re the only one I…”

You’re the only one I wanted to talk to , is what I can’t seem to say. It still feels wrong to gravitate toward the familiarity he offers, but I’d be lying to myself if I said he didn’t.

“Are you okay, Rach?”

Sniffling back tears over the events of the day, I shake my head as if he can see me. Swallowing down the lump forming in my throat, I say, “I don’t know. I miss my mom. Dumb, right? It’s been close to two years, and this empty feeling never goes away whenever I come back here.”

Swiping at a few fallen tears, I stare at two bunnies that hop out of the woods and into the pathway. As soon as the bigger one sees me, it nudges the little one back into the tree line.

A mother protecting her baby.

My chest aches.

“I don’t think that’s dumb at all,” Matt reassures me, voices laughing in the background.

Hugging my knees into my chest, I rest my chin on my knees and close my eyes as the breeze pricks at my damp face. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting your time with family.”

“Don’t be. Tell me what’s going on.”

I stare at the trail in front of me, wondering if I should tell him the truth. It takes me a few long seconds before I huff out a quiet sigh. “My mother was still alive when my dad started talking to his new girlfriend, Tatum. It makes me question things. Their love for one another. What the truth is.”

Matt is quiet. He knows an apology isn’t going to help, so I’m grateful he doesn’t give me one.

Sitting up, I use the back of my hand to swipe at my cheeks. “I’m going to be an aunt.” I hiccup, smiling as I think about my glowing sister. “Brie is pregnant.”

Finally, he says, “That’s awesome.”

We’re silent for a few moments. There’s more laughing in the background on his side. Wind on mine. I blow out another short, chilled breath. “I always thought I’d be here when she had kids. When we were younger, we said we’d live next door to one another and raise our kids together.”

It’s not a faraway thought. Realistically, it could still happen. Someday. But I still don’t know if I carry the gene that would make my children motherless if that day ever came. Could I do that to them? Could I risk passing it down and making their own lives hell? Do I even want to know or stay blissfully ignorant like my mother until my very last breath?

Quietly, Matt asks, “Is that what you want?”

I’ve thought about what comes after graduation. I need my doctorate to become a full-time professor, and the thought of doing a dissertation makes me queasy. But it’s not unobtainable. It’s also not something I’ll be able to do at Lindon. Either way, I’ll have to find somewhere else to go. Maybe somewhere in Pennsylvania, closer to Brie, Ryan, and their baby. Or maybe I’ll skip my doctorate completely and find a job working for a team somewhere—at a high school or a college. But either way, I know, deep down, I’ll regret not being around to watch my niece or nephew grow up.

“Maybe,” I admit, not knowing for sure. “But there are drawbacks.”

My father, for one.

Tatum, for another.

Could I be around them knowing what I do now? I’m not so sure my sanity could handle it. I feel nauseous even thinking about my father doing anything to ruin what he and my mother had. They were the role models for what a marriage should be, down to the end.

At least, that’s what I thought.

“I’m sorry I called,” I apologize again, closing my eyes and letting the wind pimple my skin with goose bumps. “It’s a holiday, and you’re with your family. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this when it’s not your problem.”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “My family always says one thing we’re grateful for on the holidays when we’re together. It’s tradition. I’m grateful that you trusted me enough to call me.”

Squeezing my eyelids together to fight off the tears quickly building in the ducts, I let out a pathetic breath that catches in my throat.

Swiping at my eyes with the backs of my hands, I say, “I’m grateful you picked up.”

I’m grateful for you.

He doesn’t need me to tell him that. He hears it in between the lines.

“If there’s anybody who can figure things out, it’s you,” he tells me genuinely. “But if you want some advice, let your dad explain. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“And if it is?” I press.

His hesitation doesn’t make me feel any better. But his reply does. “Then you’ll always have a home in Lindon. With me.”

Emotion builds its way back up my throat, forcing me to swallow it down. “And if I decide to move to Pennsylvania?”

I hear a subtle breath exhale from him. “Then maybe I’ll find myself in Pennsylvania one day.”

It’s not the answer I was expecting, making me even more emotional than I was before. Because this boy, this twenty-two, almost twenty-three-year-old, has always been kind to me. Always charming and witty and caring. The soft spot I’ve had for him since the day we met is uncanny.

Maybe I’ll find myself in Pennsylvania one day. Damn. Damn. What am I supposed to do with that? If he were here, he’d hear my heart racing in my chest. He’d see the flush to my cheeks that has nothing to do with the cool air.

“Matt…”

“You going to be okay?” he asks, even though there’s nothing he could do if I said no. He doesn’t dwell on what he said or let me. His nonchalance to the statement echoes in my head though.

Licking my lips, I let it go. “Yes.”

“Well, if you need me to send you any more yams for the holiday feast…” he says to lighten the mood.

I crack the tiniest smile. “No yams are needed for this trip. Just…” I pause, biting the inside of my cheek. “Just some clarity.”

“I hope you get it, Ruby Red.”

The name eases the tightness in my chest a fraction.

He clears his throat. “Happy Thanksgiving, Rach.”

After hanging up, I stare at the blank screen before flicking it off. A twig snaps behind me. Then another. Then something warm gets draped over my shoulders, locking them up.

“I thought you might be here,” Dad says quietly. “It was her favorite spot too.”

Her. Mom.

He sits beside me on the picnic table, staring at the path like he’s remembering all the same things I am. My body turns away from him, wanting distance but warmth at the same time.

“I know what you must be thinking,” he tells me, eyes roaming over the side of my face despite the way I evade him. “But I never cheated on your mother, Rachel. I loved her very, very much. She was the one who introduced me to Tatum.”

My eyes snap to him. “ What? ”

He nods once, almost sadly. “After Brie’s hair fiasco, your mom started going to the salon Tatum worked at more frequently. It was closer and cheaper than her original one, and she liked the hairdressers more. She’d brought up Tatum a few times to me, which I never thought much about. Your mother got along with everybody, so I figured Tate was simply another friend she’d made. When your mother’s disease started progressing, I had to start taking her places when she couldn’t get around as easily on her own. She never wanted to give up her salon days because it was a chance for her to feel pampered, so I’d drive her. I wanted her to have those moments, no matter what.”

I remember how upset Mom was that she couldn’t drive herself places, but Dad never thought twice about taking her wherever she needed to go. He was happy to bring her to get her hair or her nails done because he knew she needed that. It made her feel pretty during her battle with the ugly disease.

“I didn’t know Tate very well at first,” he continues to explain. “Not until much later. Our conversations were nothing more than small talk for a long time. Your mother and she did most of the talking whenever we went to the salon.”

I shake my head and look at him with narrowed eyes. “That obviously changed. I doubt Mom willingly introduced you to her replacement.”

Dad winces. “I don’t like that word.”

Something tells me he wouldn’t approve of the other words I’ve used in my head whenever I think of Tatum or their relationship.

He sighs when he sees I’m not interested in changing it. “Oh, my ray of sunshine. You’re so much like your mother; it sometimes kills me a little.”

I frown, huddling into the jacket he put around me.

Dad puts his arm around my shoulder. “It always scared me how fierce you were because of her. She raised two strong-headed girls that are forces to be reckoned with.”

My eyes go to my lap, where I’m squeezing my hands together tightly. Unsure of what to say, I remain silent.

He doesn’t need me to say anything. “It makes sense why you’d jump to the conclusion that you did about Tate and me. I’m not asking you to think of her as a mother—” I scoff at the notion, making him sigh. “I’m not even asking you to like her. But I don’t want you thinking she got in between your mother and me when that was the furthest thing from the truth. Toward the end, your mother…”

His long-winded pause has me finally glancing in his direction with curiosity. “Toward the end, your mother encouraged me to move on. To live my life and show you and your sister that it’s okay to be happy even after she’s gone. It wasn’t something I wanted to hear at the time, but she knew it was what I needed to.”

It’s the last thing I want to hear too. How could Mom tell him to find somebody else? She was dying. That’s the last thing she should have been focusing on.

“There will never be another woman like your mother,” Dad whispers, tugging me into his side and rubbing my arm. “Because if I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t want to think about the life my family is living after I’m gone. Even if I hope they’re loved and happy without me.”

Tears burn the backs of my eyes. Mom sacrificed so much of her life for us until her very last breath. The one thing she said she always wanted to be when she was older was a mother—to have a family she was devoted to, no matter the circumstances.

She wanted Dad to fall in love again and Brie and me to know it was okay to mourn but also okay to move on. To be happy. Even without her in our lives to share it with.

Letting out a shaky breath, I take a deep breath and count to three before exhaling. “You didn’t have to fall in love so quickly,” I whisper, still hurt by the betrayal that’s sunk its claws into me since he said he was seeing somebody.

His hold on me tightens. “I know, baby girl. I know.”

It’s not an apology.

It’s an olive branch.

“One day,” he tells me, “You’ll understand that love can make you do things you never thought you would. That’s all your mother and I could ever hope for you and your sister.”

My mind goes back to Matt, who is the last person I should be thinking about.

Swallowing, I look at him. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

He rubs my back. “Ready to go home?”

Home. I hug my legs into my chest and rest my cheek on my bent knees. “You’re going to be a grandfather.”

He smiles. “I am.”

I look away, raw emotion overheating my face and neck. “Mom would have been so excited,” I say, sad she can’t be here to witness Brie as a mother.

His hand pauses before squeezing my shoulder. “She would have.”

We sit in silence.

“I miss her too,” he admits.

I look at him.

He’s not looking at me though. “Every day.”

I watch him—the same emotion on my face shadowing his features as his eyes get glassy.

He really does miss her.

“I miss everything about back then,” he adds, not giving me the specifics. He doesn’t need to.

He misses her. And me. And Brie. He misses the good days. The bad days. He misses when we were a family .

Sometimes, I miss that too.

I stand, accepting the invisible olive branch by reaching out to him and squeezing his hand once. “Let’s go home.”

There were candied yams and no raisins in the stuffing or dairy in the mac and cheese this Thanksgiving.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was…better.