The hard line of his mouth softens.
He breathes out slowly through his nose, the sound heavy with all the tortured days he’s spent holding everything in.
“Okay,” he finally says, voice quiet again. “Okay.”
Grant’s smile is small but genuine. “Good. Tomorrow. Celebrate New Year’s Eve with us. Bring those terrible coffee cakes you like. We’ll all pretend to hate it and eat it anyway like we always do.”
That earns the faintest chuckle from Richard. “You sure she’ll even let me in the door?”
“She will,” I say, certain of it. “She’s stubborn, but she’s your daughter. She got that from you. Plus if she is too stubborn to do it, we all know Eli will sneak you in through the window.”
Richard exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “That he will.”
When Richard finally turns to leave, I grab him and pull him into a tight hug.
He returns it, his body slowly relaxing as the seconds pass.
Grant catches him in one too before he climbs into his truck.
He glances back at us one last time before pulling the door shut.
As soon as he gets the truck’s engine running, he rolls the window down. “Thank you. Both of you.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Grant calls. “You’ll change your mind once you see what Noelle’s done with the kitchen.”
Richard huffs out a quiet laugh and rolls the window back up to trap the heat inside.
We watch as the truck eases down the road, its taillights disappearing around the block.
Grant stuffs his hands in his pockets, glancing over at me. “Think he’ll actually show?”
I look toward the end of the street where the truck vanished and nod once. “Yeah. I think he will.”
26
NOELLE
I breathe out slowly when Dad’s truck pulls into the driveway, the rumble of the old engine breaking through the quiet afternoon.
My heart gives a painful thud.
I don’t move from the couch, too afraid that I’ll find myself waiting by it and that familiar set of keys will never jingle on the other side.
The key never slotting inside the lock and sliding it away from the jam.
It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve seen or heard from him.
Two long weeks since the fight.
Since the shouting, the slammed door, and the words I know we both wish we could take back.
The memory still sits heavy in my chest like a bruise that refuses to fade. I thought that was it.
The end.
But now he’s here and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to handle it if he actually walks through that doorway.
Eli’s voice drifts up from the floor where he’s sprawled out with his cars and action figures the guys had gotten him for Christmas “Mama? Is someone here?”
