Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EMMA

I spend the afternoon sitting on the couch reading my Kindle, trying not to think about what happened or what will happen. Dad sits opposite me, reading his book, Rusty lying between us. Every so often, Dad will look up with a searching quality in his eyes. Or maybe that's just paranoia.

It was so difficult when I felt the emotion burning off my man. He was smoldering with it, so much pain. Every instinct in me wanted to go to him, pull him into my arms, and do whatever I could to make him feel better. I had to act normal in front of Dad. Did I give myself away? If Dad's thoughts went there, even for a second, he'd throw a fit. Whatever his secret is, it can't be as big as this.

Jacob is on the roof, lying under some camouflaged tarp, watching the forest. He has cameras, apparently, but I think he needs to be out there. If he's in here, he'll feel the pull as badly as I do. My man's going through a hard time, and I can do nothing to help him. Sickeningly, I resent Dad for getting in the way of us. It's so messed up, but it's true. I just want some alone time with my Jacob.

Dad sighs and leans forward. "I don't want you to think any less of me."

"Why would I think less of you?" I ask.

He hesitates, then says, "Maybe you've got a certain image of me in your head. I don't want to change that."

Is he going to come out to me? That's how it sounds. "Nothing could make me love you any less, Dad," I say.

"Hmm," he mutters, turning back to his book.

"Hmm? Okay, Grumpelstiltskin."

He laughs. It comes out loudly, with force, that classic "Dad laugh" when he's been caught off guard by a joke and can't help but let out the maximum amount of happiness. "I haven't heard you say that in years."

"Seriously," I say. "Whatever you were in Little Hope for… whoever you were seeing… It's okay."

Dad leans forward again. "Who said I was seeing anybody?"

There's something about the way he says it, tinged with suspicion. He thinks Jacob might've told me something, but why would he have any reason to believe Jacob would tell me anything?

"Nobody," I say, "but now I think you might have, and that's okay, Dad. Whoever it is…"

"How can you say that?" he grumbles. "You don't know anything about her ."

"So there is a her? " I say.

"It's complicated."

"You sound like a kid."

"Yeah, right," he sighs darkly. "I sound like a nineteen-year-old."

"Now you're being really grumpy."

"Sorry," he says. "It's just…"

He trails off, running a hand through his hair. He looks boyish and lost. Dad has always had a boyish quality. Once, when Mom thought I couldn't hear, she told Xavier, "He was always such a calm little boy. I hated that." I think that's what's made the divorce workable. I have the emotion and chaos of Mom and the steadiness of Dad, but now, Dad doesn't look stable.

"Is there something you want to tell me, too?" Dad says.

"What do you mean?" I snap.

"I thought, before… I don't know."

"What?" I say, my voice straining. My heart has started its ribcage-busting routine. I'd give all the money in the world to be trapped by that blizzard again, with everything else faded away. I miss it so badly.

"Before we left, I heard you on the phone with Laura. Are you planning a Europe trip?" He tries for a joking smile like he's caught me out, and I smile. I laugh. I go along with it. We're both playing roles—father and daughter trying to make the best of a bad, strange situation. Neither of us is good enough at acting to make it stick.

"We were talking about it," I say, "but nothing's decided yet."

"I'm changing the subject," Dad says with a tight smile, making me almost sure he will say something else. But what, Dad? What? "Yes, I went to Little Hope to see a woman, but there's an issue." He puts his hands on his knees as though bracing himself. "Maybe we should discuss it after…"

"What else are we going to do?" I say, feeling a flutter of excitement for Dad despite everything, despite the lies. Mom found Xavier, but Dad never seemed to move on. He was stuck just being my dad and dedicated to work as if Mom had put him off relationships for life. "Anyway, you've already started."

Dad buries his head in his hands, then dramatically drops them. I'd be borderline giddy about this if there weren't so much messiness. Dad looks like a teenager about to gossip about his crush. "She's not much older than you," Dad says. "Emma, she's nineteen."

I stare in disbelief at Dad. My first thought is how crazy that is. The age gap is too much. I imagine one of my friends with somebody who's Dad's age. Then I almost laugh because that's absurd. Last night, I had the best night of my life with somebody with just as much of an age gap.

"Emma?" Dad says after a long pause.

"How did you meet?" I ask.

"I thought you'd have more of a reaction."

"I'm trying to process it," I mutter.

I'm being an absolute hypocrite, but I find myself thinking, What does Dad have in common with a woman my age?

"She was doing freelance work for the company," Dad says. "Remotely. For a couple of months, we talked in the work chat. Then we exchanged numbers. I tried to fight it, Emma. I knew it was wrong."

"Why is it wrong?" I say fiercely.

"I'm twenty years older than her," Dad says. "Do you really have to ask that? She might even be a little older than you."

"She can make her own decisions," I say, knowing I have to stop, knowing I'm making my real feelings obvious.

"Some people would say she's too young. They'd say I'm taking advantage."

" Are you?" I only realize my tone is super aggressive when Rusty sits up and looks at me like he's saying, Chill . "Because the thing is, Dad, it's on a case-by-case basis, right? Only you know if you're taking advantage of her."

"I'd die before I took advantage of her," Dad says, sounding just like… hell, just like Jacob does when he talks about protecting me. "That's why I had to leave yesterday. God help me. I don't know how it's possible to feel like this when we've mostly talked over the phone."

"I guess love takes crazy paths sometimes."

"Love," Dad says.

"Well, don't you love her?"

He nods. "I haven't told her yet, but I do. I've been holding off on telling her."

"Why?"

"Because I never thought we'd be having a conversation like this about it," he says. "A woman your age… I thought you'd freak. Ever since the divorce, I've been trying to make it up to you. I want to do my best."

"You're an amazing dad." I walk over to him, sit on the chair, and hug him. "And you're an amazing person. Let people think whatever they want. If you have something real, you should go after it."

"Do you really think so?" he asks, looking up at me.

Again, there's that subtle challenge in his eyes, but I'm unsure if it's all in my head. Maybe I'm taking the coward's way out by not confronting him. Do you know something? Why do you keep looking at me like that?

"So, how long has it been?" I ask.

"Four months, total," Dad replies. "Her name's Angelica."

"What's she like?"

Dad gets a dreamy, faraway expression. "She's relaxed. She's peaceful. She makes me calm."

"You're the calmest person I know."

"With her, it's different. There's no noise."

"Noise?" I ask.

He glances at me. "There's a reason I left the military," he says. "It wouldn't stop chasing me—every damn engagement, every shot fired. I'm not as strong as…" He glances at the ceiling, not having to tell me he's talking about Jacob, lying up there, watching, protecting us. "With my Angelica, there's just silence and peace, but that's part of the issue."

"How so?" I ask.

"She's had a hard life, too. She's outrunning demons of her own, but the difference is, I've had twenty more years to process it. I've asked her if she's sure, and she says yes. But what does sure mean with something like this? How can she be sure when she has nothing else to compare it to? I don't want to… I can't take advantage of her."

"To me, it doesn't seem like you're doing that," I say, thinking of Jacob, the night we shared, how he led the way at first, and then I took charge. It's not fair to use Dad's attraction to his woman as justification for what we've done. However, fair or not, I can't ignore it. If anything, it means Dad would understand just a little bit, right?

"I know you," I go on. "You're a good person. You'd never hurt anybody."

"I'd never hurt her," he says passionately, as if the idea is unthinkable. "But what if I hurt her somehow just by being together? What if she regrets wasting her early years with me?"

"Have you talked about it?" I can't keep the anger out of my voice. "About the future? About what she wants?"

"All the time." He gets a faraway smile on his face. "She tells me she's ready for a life together every time. She wants to meet you."

"I'd like to meet her," I say.

"Really?"

"You don't have to be so surprised. I've never seen you like this. I want to meet the magic woman who can make you look like an excited teenager with a crush."

He rolls his eyes, but he can't keep the smile from his lips despite everything. "She's really special, but that doesn't make what I did okay. I never should've left."

"It was like you weren't even in charge," I say, reading him. "It was like your love was deciding for you."

"That makes me sound like one sappy old man," he says, "but yeah, that's the truth right there. When I was walking through that snow, I wasn't thinking. I couldn't think about anything except for her."

We don't say anything for a while, giving me time to reflect on the wild idea that the blizzard somehow cast a spell on us: Dad, Angelica, Jacob, and me. It stopped us from reflecting too closely on what we were doing and the paths we were taking.

"I might be jealous," I say. "That sounds like an amazing relationship."

Dad smiles, still with that semi-suspicious look in his eyes. It's like he's constantly searching me, probing for weak points. He also must know he can't push me too hard, considering what he's just revealed. Still—a best friend, a younger girlfriend—they're not the same. It's still a betrayal. I'm justifying my bad actions.

"Are you okay?" Dad asks, his smile dropping.

"Yeah, fine," I say. "Why?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost." When I don't say anything, he says, "I know this is a lot, but trust me. Jacob will find a way out of this. You wouldn't doubt it if you knew some of the stuff he's done."

"Like what?" I ask, eager for any morsels of Jacob.

"By my last count, he's saved the lives of three thousand and twenty-two children. He's put himself in harm's way more than most men could ever imagine. He's even sent some trafficking rings running from any area he visits. Jacob will make these evil bastards regret coming for us."

"I know," I whisper, believing more than Dad understands. It's not just his achievements that let me know Jacob will always protect me. It's the look he gets in his eyes when he says he will keep me safe—me and, maybe, the baby growing inside me.

Shut up , I scream in my mind. My thoughts are skipping so absurdly into the future.

"Should I cook those steaks for dinner?" I ask.

"That would be nice, but I think I should cook for you ."

I stand, unable to bear his eyes on me anymore. Going into the kitchen, I take the steaks from the fridge so they're room temperature when I'm ready to start cooking. Then I walk outside onto the porch. I can't see my man, but I call up to him, "Jacob?"

His gruff voice comes back. "Yeah?"

"How do you like your steak?

"Bloody," he says with a dark edge.

Of course, that's how he likes it.