half-sister to both of us, then realized how horrible of an idea it was. He saw how she shut down, and he left, trying to avoid triggering her further.
“I came to visit her a few times, but she told me that every time she saw my face she thought of our dead daughter. I was praying that maybe if she didn’t see me, she wouldn’t spiral so low. Clearly that didn’t work.”
“I see why you tried, though,” I say.
Sliding a hand in his pocket, he pulls out his car key and cell phone.
“I love you, he says. I’m sorry I’m not the person you thought I was. But know that I live for you girls. All three of you. And I’m sorry.”
I’m crying by the time his arms wrap around me. All the pain melting away as he squeezes me. It killed me to hate him so much, and even though his actions are far from justified, on some weird level, I understand why he did it.
“It’s okay, we’ll get through this.” I step away, looking up at him. “Now go be with Mom.”
“Thank you,” he says, then gives me one final squeeze before leaving.
24
JORDAN
My stomach growls as I settle into my driver’s seat, reminding me that I still haven’t eaten today. It’s well after noon and even after the horrible way the day started, classes went smoothly. Xia wasn’t there and hasn't responded to my texts, but with the hell we’ve been through this weekend, I’m sure she’s just sleeping it off.
The tiny rocks on the asphalt crackle against my tires as I roll through the large parking lot. I’m still so damn exhausted, but there’s a numbness moving through me that’s unsettling. I sort of feel embarrassed. If I’m being honest, I can’t believe I shut down so hard about Mom in front of everyone. I just couldn’t control it. The pain was overwhelming, and if Xia hadn’t walked in, I don’t know what would have happened.
My car rolls to a stop at the parking lot exit and I palm my phone before deciding my direction. I want to go to Xia, grab some food, lie in bed with her, and let this pain melt back into where it usually lives. But after what happened at the hospital, I’m starting to wonder if Dad is right. Maybe my way of dealing with Mom’s death isn’t working.
A horn beeping knocks me out of my thoughts, and I check my rearview mirror to see a small line of cars that has formed behind me. Quickly, I tap my father's contact and hit the call button before pressing the gas.
“Jordan.” His voice sounds dry when he answers, as if he's just waking.
“Hey,” I say. I don't exactly know why I’m calling but my heart starts to race anyway. “Um… are you busy right now?”
“No, just getting up from a nap. What’s going on?”
I exhale and grip the steering wheel as I push the words out of my mouth. “I'm coming over. Maybe we can have lunch or something.”
“Okay.” The sound of rustling on the other end of the line lets me know that he's moving around. “I’ll jump in the shower now. Angie’s Diner has that lunch special today; their fried chicken and shrimp wrap. We’ll be just in time to catch it.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll stop by there on the way.”
There’s a moment of silence on the other end and I slow my car at a stop light as I wait for his response. I’m trying not to think about this too much because I know the moment I start to remember how it feels to be home, I’ll talk myself out of it. A few seconds pass as more cars roll up behind me, waiting on the light to change.
“We’re eating here?” His voice is cautious, almost soft, as he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. Pain grips my chest as my vision starts to cloud. I blink rapidly and focus on the light as it changes and traffic begins to move. “I think it might be time.”
“Okay,” he says carefully.
I don’t know what to expect from this but when I pull into the driveway dread starts to seep in. The sun shines brightly on my childhood home, reflecting off the white paint and light blue shutters. It’s the complete opposite of my mood. I remember when my mother convinced Dad to paint the house white. She said it would always remind us of the pure love our family had for each