And quite possibly moving in with a man I’ve known for less than a week.
But there’s no way I’m bringing that up now.
Dad nods like I’ve offended him. “Still no health insurance?”
“Nope.”
He exhales slowly. “Lucy?—”
“I don’t need a lecture.”
I need compassion. A soft place to land. A battle plan instead of anI told you so.
“I’m not lecturing. I’m pointing out that this is exactly the kind of instability I was worried about when you left.”
“I didn’t plan to get injured, Dad.”
“No, but you planned to pursue a job with a short shelf life and no safety net. I told you this would happen. I told you not to pursue dance as a career. I told you everything about this whole Los Angeles plan of yours was poorly thought out and bound to fail.”
“Russ…” Mom puts a hand on Dad’s and shoots him a pleading look and silence descends around us.
My fingers curl around the warm mug as I exhale slowly. This is exactly why I put this conversation off for so long. Who would willingly sign up for this? It’d be onething if he balanced it by saying anything nice. Ever. But every time we talk, it’s this.
He’s smart. I’m dumb.
He’s got it all figured out. I never will.
Mom reaches across the table. “He’s just scared, sweetie.”
“I know,” I say even though I want to scream.
“I don’t know what to do with you, Lu,” Dad says. Quiet. Gruff. “You’ve always made things harder than they need to be. I want better for you.”
Yeah, well, I want better for me, too. And I had it. For one shining, beautiful moment, I had it. That contract with Sandro René would have changed my life.
Violet flits by and drops three plates of brightly frosted sugar cookies on the table. “Someone really smart once told me, ‘colorful vibes fix everything.’ I didn’t believe him at first, but it turned out he was onto something.” She winks at me. “Your dad means well, sweetheart, but Russ Calder has been a grumpy old man since the second grade.”
Mom actually laughs. To my surprise, so does Dad. The tension breaks for a second. And in that breath, I realize something.
People are messy and we’re probably at our messiest when dealing with the ones we love. For as frustrated as I am with my dad and the broken pieces between us, he’s probably equally as frustrated with me. The knot in my chest loosens a little. Maybe we’re all just doing the best we can with the mess we’ve got.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner,” I say, extendingan olive branch. “Since I’ll be in town for at least the next couple weeks, maybe we can get together more. Have dinner. Coffee. Whatever works.”
Mom claps her hands together in excitement while Dad bobs his head.
“That sounds nice, Lu,” he says, picking up his fork and dragging a plate in front of him.
Turns out, colorful vibes really do help. Who knew?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Nash
The house is quiet, but my brain sure as hell isn’t.
I stand in the kitchen with my fingers wrapped around a sweating glass of water, the refrigerator hum and the occasional tick of the overhead clock doing nothing to drown out the echo chamber in my head. I’ve replayed the conversation with Lucy at least a hundred times, each pass-through somehow worse than the last.
I offered her my spare room and then almost kissed her.Again.
