Little did my daddy know that he had been devastating me in a way I would never recover from.
Nodding, I went for as casual as I could, talking around the torment crushing my windpipe. “Yeah, he took us all by surprise by just waltzing into A Drop of Hope late this afternoon.”
“He good?” Real concern moved through Dad’s expression. Seemed all of our thoughts immediately went that direction when it came to Evan.
Unable to stop it.
“He looked like he was, at least. Healthy.” I realized I was hugging myself, tighter and tighter, the words coming thinner with each that I released until the breath was leaving me on a haggard rasp. “He’s got a baby.”
Daddy’s eyes raked me like he was looking for the possibility that it was mine.
I wanted to weep.
“With who?”
I flinched. Hard. He might as well have driven an ice pick into my eye. “Who knows? I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. You know, I figured he and Aunt Hope needed to talk first before I got in the way and started monopolizin’ all his time the way I used to do.” I tossed it out like it was no big deal, but my voice was shaking all over the place, and again, I was thinking I was goin’ to get sick right there on the floor. “Well, I’d better go. It’s getting late.”
Mama frowned her worry from behind Daddy, hating that we couldn’t talk freely, giving me a look that she was there for me, no matter what. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? I do have plenty.”
“I think I need to go. Jack mentioned us grabbing dinner.”
That sent nausea rebounding for a third round.
Just awesome.
Daddy glowered. Was pretty sure he didn’t believe a word. He reached out and took me by the arm.
Softly.
In all his care.
“Frankie.” His voice was hoarse, the man so gruff and raw and masculine that you wouldn’t think he would have the capacity.
But underneath all that rugged exterior was the gentlest man.
My eyes squeezed shut. “Please, Daddy. I can’t talk about this right now.”
He hesitated, warring, before he gave a tight nod. “Okay. Just . . . know you can come to us with anything.”
Sorrow pulled my lips into a twisted, vacant smile. “Thank you. I’ll . . .” I started to back away. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Daddy used to call me his Sunshine. Same as Evan. I wondered if my daddy had recognized that it was three years ago that light had gone dim.
He huffed out a worried sigh. “Frankie.”
“It’s fine, Daddy. I’m fine.”
More lies.
But sometimes telling yourself them was the only way to make it through the day.
I hiked up on my toes and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek, did the same to my mama, fighting tears as I turned around and beelined for the door, needing to get the heck out of there before I fell apart again.
Because I could feel it coming on.
The hopelessness.
The helplessness.
The loss that screamed and wailed.
Not that it was going to magically disappear when I got home. To the quiet and silence and the questions that I knew were going to consume me the second I was alone.
Topple me into a spiral I might not recover from.
But at least I could do it in private.
I turned the knob on the front door, and I stepped out onto the side deck and rushed down the steps, only to stumble to a stop when I hit the bottom.
Twilight danced through the tall, towering trees, and a wistful blue filled the sky that was just getting dotted with a few stars. The air dense with the scent of honeysuckle and humidity.
I felt stifled by it.
Stuck in it.
Maybe the whole reason I’d shown up here was because my spirit had called out that this was where he would be.
Drawn.
Compelled.
Just like my sight that was racing up the opposite side of the street toward Evan’s childhood home.
The pull intense.
The power fierce.
Stunning and striking and unrelenting.
I tried to inhale against the clot in my throat.
To stand and not cower when it felt like the sky was toppling down and spilling to the Earth. Every star falling free. Crashing to the ground.
I tried to see through the turmoil. Through the tears blurring my eyes.
But the only thing I was seeing was Evan standing at the side of a car that I didn’t recognize but I had to believe was his.
This beautiful, beautiful boy that my fingers itched to remember.