Where the Black Line Ends

Chapter 44

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

REED

“ D ad? What are you doing here?”

Everything about him is all wrong, from his less-than-composed tear-soaked cheeks to his missing loafers.

“And what are you wearing?” I blurt out into the hallway.

He drops his chin to his pickle-colored tracksuit.

“The department store saleswoman said matching sets are really popular right now,” he blubbers.

“From where ? JCPenney? I don’t think she meant—” I wave my hand in the air. “Never mind.”

“As a matter of fact…”

My eyes widen. My Rolex-wearing father was shopping at one of the last department stores left standing?

“Who are you and what have you done with Emmett Morgan?”

He hiccups through his laugh. “Well, are you gonna invite this old track star in or not?”

I hold the door ajar and step out of the way. “Be my guest.”

He strolls past the bathroom and mirrored closet and stops at the foot of the bed. “It’s a single king,” he comments .

Well, yeah. I wasn’t expecting company , I think to myself. “How did you find me?” I ask instead.

He dries his eyes with his polyester sleeve and bulldozes over my question. “There’s this Mexican restaurant down the street. You want to grab some food?”

I squint at him. Wait, dinner ? That explains the raging headache. I must have only been asleep for a few hours. It’s still the same day I left them, the same day we lost Dean…

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Well, let’s get out of this crappy hotel for some chips and salsa then.” He strides out the door to the stairwell. Must know about the elevator situation.

We bat at Mardi Gras beads and streamers, elbowing our way through Singles Night to get to the lobby.

“How about I drive? You look like you could use the rest.” He motions to the left side of the parking lot.

I gape at the familiar metallic-blue Ford F-150, calculating the distance in my head. “You drove here?” He had to have left at four in morning. Right about the time I got off the phone with Jack. “You never drive long distances,” I whisper, feeling the weight behind that gesture.

“I needed to see my son,” he says. “Am I allowed to ask if you’re doing okay?”

It’s my turn to blow past his question.

“Where’s your Land Rover?” I pull on the passenger doorhandle.

He smirks as he pulls us onto the road. “In the shop. Ronny wrecked it. Right before he dropped out of school a month in and left on another European excursion with some gal he met on the internet.”

A snicker tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Interesting,” I say as he traverses the single city block to the Fiesta Del Taco—a restaurant we could have walked to just as fast.

A draft of air blows out the front door of this place. It’s movie theater cold inside. Something I missed while… nope . If I’m not going there with my dad, I’m certainly not going there inside my own head.

In a deserted corner booth, he orders two enchiladas with refried beans, and I get the burrito. The moment our waiter disappears, I ask him again: “What are you doing here?”

Tears leak from the corners of his eyes.

“I came to take my son to Silverwood.”

“Did you feel that?” Dad gusts out an elated breath, and I have to keep pinching my arm to make sure that I’m awake. That I’ve not somehow slipped into a warped version of reality where my father’s alter ego enjoyed an amusement park.

“I felt it,” I say as the chest restraint and lap belt lift on our final roller-coaster of the day.

He steps onto the platform that leads riders in a single-file line through an exit gate. Ironically enough, it’s not until we approach the parking lot that I feel my pulse pick up speed.

Don’t be afraid. Be vulnerable .

“Thanks for coming,” I say.

I know most people wouldn’t understand that I needed to disappear at an amusement park at a time like this, but my dad of all people did.

He waits until we’ve both hopped in the front seat of the truck to respond. With his hands at ten and two and his eyes fixed on the windshield, he says, “You shouldn’t have to thank your dad for being there for you. ”

I let his words sink in until they’ve settled into the pit of my stomach.

He clears his throat. “When you called a few weeks ago and asked me if I remembered that weekend we went camping… I never forgot it. Only because it wasn’t my finest moment as a parent. I’m sorry for all the times I haven’t been there for you in the ways you needed me to be.”

“I just wanted you to see me,” I admit. “And today you did that.”

He sweeps a hand through his hair and blows out a shaky breath. “We’ve always been so different, you and me. I don’t have to tell you that. Sometimes it scared the shit out of me just how little we could relate to each other. I never felt like I could give you the things you really needed until Jack called me about this job.”

“You got it for me, didn’t you?”

He jerks his gaze to me. “What? The job ?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to get the spot because you pulled your strings or because you felt like I needed to amount to something.”

“Reed… I promise you that’s not what happened.”

“Why did he say he owed you then?” I ask.

“Your mom and I represented him in a negligence lawsuit against the hospital. His compensation helped him pay for the delivery expenses of his daughter and the funeral for his wife. I’m sure that’s all he meant. As far as your job, he called me after hearing from your recruiter. Jack always told me you’d be good at fire, but you got this job all on your own.”

That should make me feel better than it does.

“But then I screwed it up,” I add.

I’m waiting for the I told you so to follow that statement. The pretentious man married to the pursuit of hard work would harass me for fleeing the first chance I got. But that guy wouldn’t be relaxed against his headrest. He also wouldn’t be caught dead in those joggers and baseball cap either.

“Do you know why I flew with you to drop you off?” he asks.

“Because you didn’t think I’d actually go.”

He shakes his head. “I knew you would. I was afraid you wouldn’t come back. Despite how much grief you give me on a daily basis, I knew I’d miss your zest for life.”

I sigh. “You don’t want to know my outlook on it anymore.” The sadness I kept buried crawls its way back to the surface of my skin. I’d scratch it away if I thought it would get rid of it.

He reaches across the seat and places his hand on my forearm.

“I can’t go back there,” I whisper.

Just the thought of facing them all again… Looking Hailey in the eye after I left her like that.

“If you want to spend another week here, I’ll ride every roller-coaster a hundred times in the front seat. If it’s going back home for a while, your room is still waiting for you. But if deep down what you need is the family you made here, you better fight like hell against those feelings of inadequacy, because they miss you. You deserve to feel chosen not just by others but by yourself.”

I feel them before he sees them. Hot tears prick my vision. For the first time in a long time, I let myself cry in front of him.

We share the crappy bed for another night before parting ways the next morning.

When he calls five minutes after I pull away from the hotel, I answer with, “Forget something? ”

“Yeah. I forgot to ask you about your summer,” he says.

And I spend the five-hour drive talking while my dad listens. He chuckles when I describe blisters and poison oak. He gasps over ants and spot fires. He cries when I tell him what happened to Dean and about my love for Hailey.

It feels like a new beginning.