Chapter 43

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Ella

"What'd you think of the game last night, Todd-o-Rama?" I ask as I run the comb through his hair.

We sat in the stands while the Sierra trounced the Grizzlies—that's right, bitches, payback is sweet, and while I heard all about the fourteen-dollar beer, he didn't have one negative thing to say about Riggs or the guys.

He was positively sunny.

I grin when he scowls today, the grumpy exterior thin and plastic, barely holding. "I'm going to find a way to smuggle my own beer inside. I won't be paying fifteen bucks for lukewarm swill that's mostly foam."

"I thought it was fourteen dollars."

He narrows his eyes at me but doesn't take the obvious bait I laid out. "When are you moving into my son's place?" he asks.

"When you stop showing up in his kitchen in your underwear," I say without missing a beat.

That has him waggling his brows. "I'll have you know that I'm in very good shape for my age."

"And I'll have you know that I only have eyes for one man, and he might share the same last name as you, but he's not you." I clip a few errant strands then dust off his shoulders with the brush.

"Ageist."

Now, I'm laughing as I unclip his cape and sweep it from around him. "I am glad that Riggs comes from good stock." I wink. "Just have to make sure he keeps up all the hard work and doesn't go soft in his old age."

"Exactly." He reaches for his wallet.

"Todd-o-Rama," I warn, "what did I tell you about that?"

He pulls out a couple of twenties, sets them on the counter. "I'm not going to stop paying you, sweetheart." A quick kiss to my cheek. "Want me to wait while you clean up?"

"No," I tell him. "Kit's going to swing back by and we're hitting up Target for some decorating supplies for his new place." I glance at my watch. "He should be here in ten."

"I'll wait."

I shoo him toward the door. "Go, old man. Terrorize some young children, yell at the clerk at the grocery store, get all huffy when someone points out you're going the wrong way down the stairs?—"

He stills for a moment.

And then something wonderful happens.

He laughs—full out and loud. It's Riggs's laugh but different, something that's also solely Todd's.

It's beautiful.

"There's only one way to go down the stairs." He leans in and I accept his quick hug. "And I'll take up the beer issue with Riggs. I think the kid might have some pull."

I grin. "You do that, Todd-o-Rama."

He smirks, reaches for the door handle, then nearly topples forward when the glass and wooden panel is yanked open.

"Easy, asshole," he mutters catching it before it collides with the wall.

I open my mouth, about to warn him off from yelling at potential clients, but my words stick in my throat.

And my knees go weak…

As my father crosses the threshold and walks right into the salon.

The cape falls from my hands, lands on the floor in a wrinkled puddle of black material.

I distantly process Todd stepping outside, the door closing behind him with a quiet snick .

And then I'm alone.

"Daniela."

I close my eyes for a long moment, long enough that the name echoes through my head over and over again.

Daniela. Daniela. Daniela. Daniel ? —

"Actually," I manage to say, bending and picking up the puddled cape, "I prefer Ella."

He doesn't say anything so I wad up the material and carry it to the back, hoping that if I take long enough to put it in the laundry bin, to pack up my stuff, that he'll be gone when I come out.

Unfortunately, that's not to be.

He's standing awkwardly next to my chair when I step out from behind the curtain, staring at the set of drawers.

At first, I think he's trying to look at the stuff I have pinned there—a photograph of Nova and me, a little drawing from an elementary-aged girl who loved my haircut, a sticker that says Other Dogs Drool but Pugs Rule.

But then he says, "Your last name isn't Adler."

And I realize he's looking at my cosmetology license, which has to be displayed where customers can see it.

I still, tightening my hands on my purse.

He lifts his head, eyes coming to mine. "You're a Jacobson."

"I haven't been a Jacobson since the day Mom died," I say quietly. "You made sure of that."

He rocks back like I've hit him. "I?—"

"Even after all these years"—my voice is still quiet—"after all this time, you don't even know that we changed our name? That Knox doesn't play as Knox Jacobson, but Knox Adler?"

Fury like no other balls tightly in my stomach.

Todd was certainly no gem, especially over the last few years, and I hate how he treated Riggs. But also…he's trying to do better.

No. He's doing better.

What's my dad's excuse?

Except, the kernel in my belly, the hope that's begun to bloom because he's here, because he's put in effort to seek me out…

Maybe this will be that defining moment too?

Maybe he can change like Todd has.

"You treated Anne abhorrently," he says, not acknowledging my questions and cruelly quashing that ember of hope beneath his boot. "Both of you."

"Nova has nothing to do with this?—"

"You and Knox," he says, slamming his palm on the top of my station, rattling the contents of the drawers, nearly sending my curling iron to the floor.

"Knox wasn't there," I say, thinking about the interrupted lunch, my spiraling, and all that had changed afterward.

"Not then!" he shouts. "Before."

I stumble back a step, backing into the corner of Kit's desk and wincing.

"I think you need to leave."

Gasping, I whirl and see that Todd's standing just inside the door, arms crossed, fury deepening the lines of his expression.

"This isn't your business," my dad says, taking a step toward Todd but stopping, likely because Todd is about twenty pounds heavier and six inches taller.

"It's my business if you're harassing her," Todd snaps.

"It sure as?—"

"This is my dad," I interrupt quietly.

That has Todd's mouth dropping open, but only for a second because then he's clamping his teeth together, face hardening. But he doesn't engage further, just looks at me. "Let's go, Ella girl."

"Her name is Daniela."

I close my eyes for a moment, exhale quietly. "Why are you here, Dad?"

"Anne and I have a house here."

I brace, ready for that blow to tear through me, but…

Somehow it doesn't.

In fact, I'm not sure that I feel any of this.

I'm just numb…

All the way to my very core.