stare is blown wide, enlarging his shock to maximum levels. “What’s this? I’ve only seen you cry three times, and never as an adult.”
“It’s just a lot,” I blubber. This sensation is like being cleansed from top to bottom without moving a muscle. It’s glorious, yet uncomfortable. I shift in my seat as the emotion keeps leaking in steady rivulets. “I’ve always assumed you were angry with me. You never seemed to care about my dreams and goals.”
“Vannah.” He sighs and I brace for his lecture about showing weakness. “I’m proud of you.”
I let my jaw sag, an exaggerated breath whistling from me. “Can you repeat that?”
“I’m very proud, sweetie.” He laughs and ruffles my hair.
The affectionate display is even more concerning. This is highly out of character, more so than me crying. My dad isn’t the touchy-feely sort. He’s where my tender, sensitive skin—lacking any semblance of thickness—comes from. The thought is good for a trembling grin. That’s also how I got pumped full of sarcasm and snark.
“It wouldn’t hurt to hear it more often from you,” I admit.
“I agree, Savvy. I never intended to be stingy with the praise.”
I huff at the nickname. He’s the only person who gets away with calling me that. “All right, Papa Bear.”
“That’s nice.” He chuffs my chin. “Reminds me of when we were best buddies. The division between us lately is my fault. I’ll do better.”
I’m not certain why my frustrations with him are finally making an impact. This wound was gouged years ago during my freshman year in college. What began as a tiny disagreement spread into a painful conflict that could no longer be healed quickly. Since then, it’s scabbed over and formed a spiteful layer of scar tissue. My own stubbornness is responsible for a portion. It’s been easier to ignore the issue than constantly fight about it. I don’t have the energy to question this gift. It’s a relief to mark one problem as solved. I practically sag in my chair after the burden lifts.
With a grin slanting my lips, I wipe at the remaining moisture clinging to my skin. “I believe you.”
“Good.” He pats my hand that’s resting on the table. “It makes me sick that you ever thought otherwise. Now, what else is bothering you?”
I chew on my bottom lip, suddenly feeling like a sullen teenager again. “Well, there’s a boy.”
Wrinkles appear around his mouth when he smirks. “Landon Winters?”
He earns a gape from me. “How do you know his name?”
“Your mother told me.” He winks at her.
“Of course she did,” I mumble while shifting my gaze between them. These two have no secrets.
“He doesn’t deserve you.” The protective edge in his voice makes me snort.
“Yeah, yeah. No one ever will.”
My dad is quiet for a beat. “Does he give you the flutters?”
I gag and cover my mouth. “Gross, Dad. I’m not discussing this with you.”
There’s no chance I’m divulging that disaster to my father. It also doesn’t help that flutters are children’s play compared to the freaking hornet’s nest Landon stirs awake inside me. All those stings without any hope for honey. He’s the worst.
“Fine, don’t share details with the only man who will never betray you.”
“Low blow, Dad.” Our fences are still in the process of being mended.
“Fine, I’ll drop it. You’re capable of making great decisions, Vannah. Trust your heart.” He touches the spot on his chest that my mother owns. Let’s be honest—she rules the entire package.
“Wow,” I sigh. “That was really refreshing for me. I’m so relaxed and chill. How about you two? Therapeutic, right?”
They exchange a sneaky smile that sends a pang of longing through me. True love at its finest. It’s no wonder I grew up to become a hopeless romantic.
Mama Simons rubs my arm, knocking me from the random musings. “It makes me very happy that you’re resolving this rift.”
“Me too.” I nod just as my stomach rumbles. With a flinch, I slap a palm over the noise. It occurs to me that I forgot to eat breakfast with all the nerves jumbling my gut.
My father lifts a brow. “Can you stay for lunch?”
With a sigh, I rest my head on his shoulder. “I was really hoping you were going to offer.”
“As if we’d ever kick you out. Speaking of, do you want to move home?”
I wag a finger at him. “All I’m interested in is food. No lodging necessary.”
“Never hurts to double-check.” He kisses my hair, reminding me of brighter days that I thought were long lost.