Chapter 12

TWELVE

Britt

It's raining as I drive over to Dad's and Ava's. He picked up Karli yesterday morning, mostly because he can tell something is off with me. He always knows. Always. He and Ava have spoiled her shamelessly–in part to give me a break and in part because my dad has been trying to make up for Dakota being a son of a bitch since day one.

My phone is laying on the seat beside me, tempting me yet again. I've replayed that voicemail about a hundred times. Well, at least twenty. I know that I've been unfair to him. And there's just enough distance between me and that ugly scene in the parking lot for me to recognize that I'm not protecting Karli. I'm protecting myself.

I pull into a space in the parking lot of Ava's condo complex and defiantly leave my phone behind. I need to show some restraint, some tiny shred of self control. I can go fifteen minutes without hearing his voice. I damn well better be able to if I'm gonna even think about walking away from this.

I don't even have a chance to knock. The door flies open and Karli rushes out, jumping on me like she's climbing a tree.

"Mommy! Grandpa took me to the fair. I rode all the rides–well, the ones I was tall enough for. Then he won me a bear, and I ate corn dogs and cotton candy. I wanted a funnel cake, but Ava said no or I'd puke."

"Ava's a smart lady. Remind me to thank her," I say, carrying her back inside while she's wrapped herself around me like a koala. In the living room, Dad and Ava are on the couch, there are toys everywhere. Some random kid show is blaring from the TV and they both look happy as clams. "You two look pleased with yourselves."

"She's been spoiled, filled with junk food, revved up on sugar and adrenaline," Dad says. "And now she's going home with you. Damn right I'm pleased with myself."

I put Karli down. "Go pack up your stuff, kiddo. I need to talk to Dad for a minute."

"Don't yell at him. I didn't eat all the cotton candy. I shared," Karli says, pouting and wagging her finger at me.

"I'm not gonna yell at him. In fact, what I need to talk to your grandpa about is for me. It's got nothing to do with you, sweetie. Just pack and then finish watching your show with Ava, okay?"

When Karli's taken off up the stairs, Dad just gets up from the couch and heads toward the sliding door that opens onto the small deck. I follow him out and drop into one of the wicker chairs covered with over-stuffed cushions.

"Is this about Dakota?" he asks.

"Partly," I tell him. "He said his new girlfriend doesn't feel right about having his kids with other women around her babies."

"What's his excuse been for the rest of the time?"

And that's the part that bugs the shit out of me. Time and distance bring clarity to a lot of things. Dakota has made excuse after excuse about being a reliable parent to Karli from day one. His M.O. has always been to lay the blame elsewhere. He got drunk and wrecked my car and that was because my car was a piece of shit and I should have had a better one. He called into work three days in a row, back when he bothered having a day job, and got fired. But it was because the manager had it out for him.

"I know it's an excuse. But in the past, it's always been him putting her off. I'll get her next week. I'll pay the child support next month. Yada yada yada. But this didn't feel like him putting her off, Dad. This felt very much like him just walking away for good." I pause and take a breath. "It felt like my last conversation with Mom before she left, when she told me to be good and do what you said and then just walked out. He's pretty much done with Karli."

A word escapes my dad that makes me do a double take. "That's a new one from you."

"It's appropriate to the situation... the little fuck. If I get my hands on him–."

"You won't do anything because he's not worth it and it wouldn't help Karli or me. No one is better at compartmentalizing that shit than you... that's kind of why I need to talk to you. I've been seeing someone."

He nods. "The doctor."

"How'd you know?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "Do I need to remind you just how small Bellehaven is?"

"Point taken... Dad, I think I fucked this up royally. He's not Dakota. I know he isn't."

"I should say not. He was smart enough and ambitious enough to get his ass through med school."

"Another fair point. I got spooked. I got spooked, and walked away from it because I was too afraid to take a chance."

Dad sighs and leans back on the deck railing. It's solid because he just rebuilt it. "Is he gone? Like physically gone."

"No."

"Has he called or texted?"

"Yeah."

Dad shakes his head. "Then he's not gone, baby. He's waiting. He's giving you a chance to figure shit out."

I know that. But knowing it and feeling it are different. "And what happens if I get spooked again? It's not fair to him."

"Britt, honey, I've been telling you since you were a little girl that life isn't fair. This man deals with life and death on a daily basis. I'm pretty sure he understands that."

And that's all I needed. Some of Dad's ultra practical wisdom. I get up and walk over to him, hugging him tight. "You know, you're pretty good at this dad shit. Maybe you and Ava ought to think about giving that a shot."

"So Karli can have an aunt or uncle that she babysits?" he asks with a laugh.

"Why the hell not?"

It's after midnight on Saturday. I guess technically that makes it Sunday. I left Dad's house hours ago, but I've still not pulled the trigger. I'm just staring at my phone like it's a snake about to strike.

I've not seen Silas in over a week. He's texted me every single day without fail. That message he left, offering me everything I want and am afraid to reach out for–it's haunting me. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, no closer to a decision than I was before I talked to Dad.

My bedroom door creaks open and the dim light from the hallway spills in. "Mommy?"

Karli sounds wrong. I know my little girl and that tentative sound in her voice is off. "What is it, baby? Did you have a bad dream?"

"Mommy, I don't feel good."

I get out of bed and walk over to her. I don't even have to touch her to feel the heat rolling off her. She's burning up with fever. "Does your tummy hurt?"

"No. But I'm itchy."

I hit the light switch and see that she's covered in hives. To the point that I'm terrified. I don't care that I'm wearing only sweatpants and a t-shirt or that she's just wearing a princess nightgown. I hoist her up on my hip, ignoring how bad it makes my leg hurt, and head down the stairs. I shove my feet into a battered pair of sneakers by the door and grab my purse. When I get her strapped into her booster seat, I get behind the wheel and shoot a quick text to Dad, telling him we're headed to the ER.

I look back in the rearview mirror. Karli is just glassy eyed and lethargic, her skin red and angry. I know Silas is working the ER tonight, but this is not how I envisioned him meeting my kid.

"I want Daddy," Karli says, then starts to cry.

I close my eyes for a second. I know she wants him. But she's seven years old, sick as fuck, and there's no way to break it to her gently that her dad doesn't want her. "I'll call him when we get to the hospital, sweetie. Let's just get you to the doctor first."