“Because I was terrified.” His admission came quietly. “Every time you achieved something, I thought, ‘This is good, but will it be enough to protect her?’ And the answer was always no, because nothing can really protect us from loss.”
She felt tears prick at her eyes. “So instead of dealing with your grief, you put all that fear on me.”
He looked away, shame evident in the slump of his shoulders. “I didn’t know how else to be. Your mother was always the heart of this family. Without her, I just... defaulted to what I knew. Structure. Discipline. Push forward and don’t look back.”
“It drove us apart.”
“Yes.” The simple acknowledgment seemed to deflate him further. “And by the time I realized what I’d done, you were gone, building your life in Denver without me.”
She thought about her life in Denver—the long shifts at the hospital, the apartment she barely spent time in, the colleagues she never quite connected with beyond work. Had she really built a life there? Or had she just been running, still trying to prove herself worthy of... something?
“I’ve been on medical leave,” she admitted. The words felt strange to say out loud. “That’s why I could come home when Fran told me what happened to you. I’m not... I’m not handling things well at work.”
Her father’s brow creased with concern. “What happened?”
“Panic attacks.” Saying it aloud still made her feel ashamed, as if admitting weakness. “I was in the middle of a trauma case and suddenly couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Had to lock myself in a supply closet until it passed.”
“Oh, Tessa.” The genuine concern in his voice made her throat tighten again.
“It wasn’t the first time. Just the worst.” She stared down at her coffee, now gone cold. “I’ve been pushing myself so hard for so long, trying to be perfect, trying to prove... I don’t even know what anymore. And it all just crashed down.”
He reached across the table, hesitating before gently placing his hand over hers. The gesture was so unexpected, so unlike him, that she had to blink back tears.
“I did that to you,” he said quietly. “Made you think you had to be perfect.”
She turned her hand to grasp his. “We both did it. I internalized it. Kept pushing myself even when you weren’t there to push me anymore.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Outside, the morning had fully arrived, and sunlight streamed through the window.
“I don’t know how to fix this,” he finally said.
“I don’t either.” She offered a small, sad smile. “But maybe acknowledging it is a start.”
Her father nodded, squeezing her hand before releasing it. “For what it’s worth, I am proud of you. Not because of what you’ve accomplished, but because of who you are. I should have told you that more.”
“You never told me at all,” she said, but without the bitterness that would have colored the words even a few weeks ago.
“I know.” He looked genuinely regretful. “After your mother died, I thought showing emotion was a weakness. That if I let myself feel anything, I’d fall apart completely.”
“And now?”
He gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “Now I’m learning. Slowly. Having Beckett here... it’s been good. He’s teaching an old dog new tricks, I suppose.”
She thought about Beckett, out in the garage giving them space for this conversation. How he seemed to understand both of them, despite knowing them for such different lengths of time.
“He’s good at seeing people,” she said. “Really seeing them.”
He nodded. “That he is.” He looked at her curiously. “You two seem to be getting along better.”
“We are. He’s helped me see things differently.” She wasn’t ready to examine the feeling that spread through her at the thought of Beckett.
“Me too.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, Tessa. I know I can’t make up for all those years, but I’d like to try to do better, if you’ll let me.”
The sincerity in his voice made her heart ache. “I’d like that too.”
“And maybe,” he added hesitantly, “you could stay a little longer? Not just because of my health, but because... well, it’s Christmas soon. And it would be nice to have you home.”
Home. The word hung in the air.
