“I’ll think about it,” she said, not ready to commit but not wanting to refuse outright either.
He nodded, accepting her answer. “That’s fair.” He stood up, refilling his coffee mug. “I should probably check on Beckett, make sure he’s not freezing out there.”
Tessa watched him move toward the door, noting how much older he looked than when she’d left fifteen years ago. How much more vulnerable.
“Dad,” she called after him. He turned, eyebrows raised in question. “Thank you for talking about this.”
He gave a small nod, his eyes softer than she’d seen them in years. “Thank you for asking.”
After he left, Tessa remained at the table, letting the conversation settle around her. It wasn’t a perfect resolution. There were still years of hurt and misunderstanding between them. But it felt like a beginning, a clearing of old ground where something new might eventually grow.
She thought about what Beckett had said last night about taking life one small thing at a time. This conversation had been her small thing, and somehow, facing it had made the next steps seem a little less daunting.
Tessa stood and walked to the window, watching as her father crossed the yard to the garage. She could see Beckett through the open door, looking up as Stan approached, his expression shifting from concentration to welcome. The two men spoke briefly, then Beckett handed her father a piece of sandpaper, making room for him at the workbench.
The sight stirred something inside her—a recognition of how much had changed while she was gone, but also how much opportunity there might be in those changes. Her father was different now. She was different too. And maybe that meant they could find a new way forward together.
One small thing at a time, she reminded herself. Today, it had been an honest conversation with her father. Tomorrow, it might be something else entirely. But for the first time in longer than she could remember, the future didn’t feel like a burden she had to perfectly prepare for. Instead, it felt like a path with multiple possibilities, none of them requiring perfection.
She glanced out the window one more time. Her father and Beckett were working side by side now, the morning sun illuminating them in the open garage door. Two men at different stages of life, both carrying their own burdens, both finding some measure of peace in simple, productive work.
She smiled to herself. Perhaps there was something to learn there too. About healing. About second chances. About home.
She looked out the window once more. The morning was bright and sparkled off the icicles hanging from the eaves. And somewhere in the yard between the house and garage, in the space between her past and her uncertain future, she thought she might find her next small step forward.
Chapter 16
Tessa slipped on her boots and glanced through the window at the bright sunshine reflecting off the snow. After her emotional conversation with her father that morning, she needed some air.
She scribbled a quick note on the pad by the phone: “Gone for a walk. Back soon.” Her father was napping, and Beckett had disappeared to the garage after lunch.
Grabbing her coat from the hook by the door, she stepped outside, inhaling deeply as the cold air filled her lungs. She hadn’t planned where to go, but her feet naturally turned toward town and the River Walk. The path had been cleared of snow, making it one of the few places she could walk without trudging through knee-deep drifts.
The River Walk was quiet this afternoon. Most people were probably at work or staying indoors where it was warm. She welcomed the solitude. She needed time to process everything her father had said.
“I was trying to make you strong enough to survive in a world that hurt us both.” His words echoed in her mind as she walked alongside the rushing water of the Sweet River. All those years, she’d interpreted his pushing as disappointment when really, it had been fear.
Fear of losing her too.
She paused at a wooden bench overlooking the water and brushed off the light dusting of snow before sitting down. The river was partially frozen along the edges, but the center still flowed, dark and swift against the white landscape. Like life, she thought. No matter how much things freeze and seem to stop, underneath, everything keeps moving forward.
She’d spent fifteen years running from this place, convinced her father didn’t want her and didn’t care. And all that time, he’d been keeping her graduation photo beside his bed, saving every card she sent, and speaking proudly of her to anyone who would listen.
Her throat tightened. So much time they’d wasted. So many holidays and ordinary days they could have shared.
The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Beckett approaching, his tall figure bundled against the cold, his breath visible in the crisp air.
He stopped a few feet away. “Hey. Mind if I join you?”
She shook her head and moved over on the bench, making room for him.
“I saw your note and figured this is where you’d head.” He sat beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them. “And Stan mentioned you two had a good talk this morning. Thought I’d check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
“He said that?” She glanced at him, surprised.
Beckett nodded, his eyes studying her face. “He said he thought you’d worked some things out. Seemed hopeful.”
“Hopeful,” she repeated softly. The word felt strange and wonderful at the same time. When was the last time she’d associated hope with her relationship with her father?
