The silence stretched. I hated it, hated how heavy it got when Daddy dropped wisdom like he was handing me a weight I wasn’t ready to carry. My jaw flexed, eyes darting anywhere but his—dusty blinds, the busted lamp in the corner, the stack of invoices with coffee ringsstamped into them. Anything to keep from looking at the man who saw too much.
Daddy leaned back, sighing like he’d said all there was to say. He picked up a pen, clicked it twice, set it down again. “You can go on pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. But you do. And I’m gon’ tell you the truth even if you hate me for it.” His eyes softened again, that look that always made me twelve years old no matter how grown I thought I was. “That man loves you already, Rayna. I saw it. And the only thing left is whether you gon’ love him back, or whether you gon’ keep running.”
My throat clenched, words pressing hard against it, none of them making it out. I wanted to snap back, to remind him he didn’t know Quentin like I did, that he was seeing shadows in the dust. But my chest betrayed me—tight, aching, too full of what I didn’t want to name.
I shoved the wrench into my back pocket, stood too fast. “I got supplies to load.”
Daddy nodded slowly, like he’d expected nothing else. “Go on then. I’ll be at the site shortly. One of the guys called off.”
I nodded and turned, hand on the doorframe, but his voice stopped me. “Baby girl?—”
I froze.
He didn’t raise his tone. Didn’t need to. “Don’t confuse protecting yourself with living. One’ll keep you safe. The other’ll keep you lonely.”
The words landed in my chest and refused to move. I walked out anyway, blinking hard, the grit in the air stinging more than I’d admit.
Out in the hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzed, toobright, too cold. I pressed a hand to my stomach, breathing shallow like maybe I could slow the spin in my head. Quentin’s face flashed anyway—the way he looked at me that night, the way Daddy said it, like my whole life was already written in his eyes.
I shook my head, tried to push it down, grabbed the supply box from the shelf. Too heavy. Or maybe it was just me.
By the time I hit the truck, my legs felt shaky. I set the box down harder than I meant to, palms stinging from the slam. My chest still burned, but my father’s voice was louder than my denial, ringing through the mess of me:
I saw his heart in your hands. His eyes open to yours. A man knows.
I climbed into the cab, slammed the door, and sat there gripping the wheel. Daddy thought he’d read Quentin in three minutes. What scared me was that maybe—just maybe—he was right.
Chapter 20
The Fall
“That man loves you already, Rayna.”
Daddy’s words landed harder than I wanted to admit. He didn’t throw love around easy. Not after Mama.
I remembered those years after the divorce—Daddy trying to date, women drifting in and out like they were just visiting. I never liked them much. Maybe that was loyalty to Mama, flimsy as it was. On her weeks, I never mentioned Daddy’s company. Part of me thought she might ask, but pride kept her mouth shut.
Eventually Mama started dating too, and I remember Daddy saying once, almost under his breath,Well, I guessthat’s it.Like he’d been holding out for her to come back. That was the first time I realized he wasn’t all work and no play like Mama accused him of. He had a heart—quiet, stubborn, waiting.
And now that same man was looking at me and saying he saw love in the way a man looked at me.
It scared me more than a little. Because if Daddy could see it—if he was bold enough to name it—then maybe it was real enough to stop running from.
Shawna and Mama told me to lead with my heart like it was simple. Like it wasn’t the very thing that ruined families. How’d that work out for most people? Divorce papers. Empty beds. Women crying into towels so their kids wouldn’t hear.
But when I thought of Quentin—his smile, his intelligence, those eyes behind his frames. The way he smelled when I pressed my face into his chest like I needed him to breathe for me—what I felt wasn’t ruin. It was love. Warmth. Everything I’d been running from.
And here I was, still trying to act like my life was just fine without him.
Liar.
My own voice hissed at me as I stepped out of the shower, steam curling off my shoulders.You barely like your life. You’ve been bored.
That was the moment I decided—I’d call him tomorrow. Invite him to Daddy’s house. Let him in more, even if it scared me.
Work that day was chaos—we were racing a deadline so the plumbing could go in. Daddy was on site, giving Jerome notes, checking our runs. He was in his element, and I feltproud just watching him. We even cracked jokes between jobs, but the lightness didn’t last.
I climbed the ladder with a coil of wire slung over my shoulder when it hit?—
