Tears pricked her eyes. How many times had she wished to hear those words? Here they were, yet she could hardly believe them.
Elisa clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her wet T-shirt pressed into her back. “I just wanted to make you happy.”
“I know. And you did, I promise you.” His voice shook and he cleared his throat. “You were the only thing that got me through that year.”
“Odd way of showing it.” Elisa huddled deeper into the blanket. “I never felt like I could be myself with you. Like I was always one emotion away from setting you off. I had to hold everything inside.” So much so she could barely wait to move out when the time came, to get space to be herself. She tried to be herself with Noah, then with Trey. Both attempts backfired.
And here they were again. Except this time with Noah, it was her fault and she couldn’t fix it.
“I see that now. And again—I’m truly sorry.” Her father stared at the pillow. “I handled my grief poorly. You reminded me so much of your mom—your mannerisms, the way you wore your hair. Your emotions and reactions to things…I couldn’t handle the reminders.” He met her gaze, regret filling the depths of his eyes. “I failed.”
She’d never seen him look that way before. Her dad might be a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. He meant this apology with his whole heart.
Compassion surged. “You didn’t fail, Dad.” Elisa scooted forward on the chair. “You made mistakes, and so did I.”
“Mine were detrimental. I distanced from you, lost my temper too many times. Held on to grudges.” He shook his head. “Sometimes we get in the habit of doing something a certain way, then we keep doing it that way even when it no longer makes sense.”
“Like with the feud?”
His posture stiffened, then relaxed. “Exactly. I carried a torch that wasn’t even mine to carry for years, just because my family did. Then when it was time to let go, all that happened with Rhonda and—” He bit his lip. “Russell.”
“He’s a pretty awful guy. That part is legit.” She drew a breath. “But Noah’s different.”
“I think I’ve known that, too. Just still living on habit, assumptions. Prejudice.” He sighed. “It’s easier to be angry than sad sometimes.”
Her heart softened. “I know.”
He shifted on the couch, crossing one ankle over the other. “But I’ll give Noah a chance—a real chance, if he’s important to you.”
“He is.” A fresh wave of tears beckoned. “But I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.”
Dad tilted his head. “I take it your attempt at the police station didn’t go well?”
“I was too late. They were already released, and Noah…well.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to relive it right now.” Or ever. The image of his betrayed expression as he headed off into the rain would haunt her for weeks.
“Fair enough.” Dad met and held her gaze. “I’m here if you do later—even if there are tears or emotions involved.”
Elisa snort-laughed, one such tear slipping down her cheek. “Thanks.” He really was trying. Then she hesitated. “I do have a question.”
“Shoot.” He reached for the cookies between them on the coffee table. “I owe you answers to whatever you want.”
She took a breath. “Why did you send letters to Noah all those years ago?”
“Letters?” His brows furrowed as he settled back on the couch, cookie in hand.
“The ones that threatened him if we didn’t break up. You could’ve just talked to him.” She snorted. “I mean, you’re not exactly known for hiding what you want.”
Dad stared blankly at her as he chewed. “What letters?”
Elisa pressed her fingers to her lips. “Wait a minute. Youwouldhave just talked to him, wouldn’t you?” Her heart hammered in her throat as the truth registered. Her father hadn’t sent them.
So who had?
twenty-five
Elisa stacked the homemade donuts she’d pulled from the air fryer into the display tower at the serving counter of the Blossom. She glanced at the clock on the wall over the door, and fought back a yawn. 5:15 a.m. Between replaying her interaction with Noah, and replaying her father’s unexpected heart-to-heart last night, she’d finally given up on sleep and gone to the Blossom to get an early start for the morning rush.
Except her churning thoughts had followed her to work.
