Hold on to Hope - A.L. Jackson Page 0,23

that agony only increased tenfold the day you took off. And it never went away. So maybe it’s time you stopped fooling yourself into thinking you are less than you are.”

He hesitated, warred, his attention flickering away before he was pinning me with the force of it. “Frankie.”

He said her name like mourning.

My fucked-up heart shook. Shivered and fisted and pulsed.

He knew. I should have known that he would. I didn’t think I could keep a truth that bright and beautiful concealed.

I met his eye. “She deserved to have a life that I couldn’t offer her.”

And I knew, if I was being honest, the root of the problem had been that I couldn’t stick around to watch it happen.

Sorrow billowed through the air.

Dad’s.

Mine.

The years of loss and the question of where the hell I was supposed to go from here because there wasn’t a whole lot that had changed.

Nothing but this child who stood like a beacon in the middle of us.

He exhaled through the tension, fighting whatever war I could see going on in his mind. “She loved you.”

He said it so simply.

With so much remorse and disappointment that I wasn’t sure how to remain sitting in the regret of it.

His hands fisted on his thighs. Like he was having to hold himself back. “Leaving her like that? It was wrong, Evan. I would have supported any decision you had to make, except for that one.”

My chest felt tight.

Achy.

Everett grabbed my index finger and shook it all around. Kid rooting me. Grounding me. Making me feel like there was a bigger purpose for my life than I’d ever imagined.

I lifted my attention to Dad. Could feel the confession coming raw, a jumble as I forced it off my tongue. “I never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt you or Mom. Ate at me every single day, and with each day that passed, I felt more out of reach. More distanced.”

Lost.

My throat tremored. “Sometimes it hurts too damn bad to stay.”

“Yet you came back?” he pressed in an encouraging challenge.

I gazed down at Everett.

Affection took me whole.

I looked back up and gave my dad the truth he had instilled in me, his promise forever etched on my spirit, one he’d issued when I was eight-years-old. “You find your purpose when your love for someone else becomes bigger than your fears.”

After Everett’s appointment, I pulled my car to the curb in front of A Drop of Hope. Maybe I should have kept right on driving. Gone back to my parents’ place and spent the day with Everett getting to know the kid who I kept glancing at through the rear-view mirror.

Mom would be home in a couple hours, but stopping to see her was an easy excuse.

Hell. Almost a mandatory excuse. She’d barely been able to pry herself away when she’d left to open the café this morning.

But I knew better.

Knew why my heart felt like a fucking rock that might crumble where it sat so heavily in my chest.

Knew why my breaths felt short and my head felt light.

I thought I could feel her from a hundred miles away.

Sense her presence.

Feel her turmoil and questions.

Didn’t have the right to stop, but I didn’t think I could leave things how we’d left them yesterday, either.

Could barely stand under all the vulnerability she’d let spill out on the ground between us when she’d come running across the street. Like she was crossing a river of hurt and she was willing to feel it if it meant she could get to me. All the while my spirit had gone mad with the need to hold her. Body demanding the girl it’d been missing for the last three years.

Knew I didn’t deserve her.

Fuck.

Probably even more so now.

But I couldn’t help but put my car into park, kill the engine, and climb out. I went right for the back and pulled out my son.

He smiled one of his smiles and patted both my cheeks and for the flash of a second my entire world felt whole.

Purposed.

It should be enough.

Still I rounded the front of my car, hit the sidewalk, and headed for the entrance.

Wasn’t really paying all the much attention until I was right there, when the super tall, lanky guy stretched his legs out in front of me from where he was sitting at one of the bistro tables in front of the café.

My attention darted that way.

His dark hair was unkempt, his jeans ratty.

“You got a few bucks to spare?”

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