“We’re upping your classes at the studio.” Yoga and Pilates were great for people with Parkinson’s.
“Callie, stop.”
“Stop what?”
“You’re overthinking everything. Stay in the moment, honey. I’m okay.”
He said the last two words softly but firmly. Like he knew she needed to hear them.
She pulled into his driveway and sucked in a breath. It took a few seconds to get the words out, and when she did, they hurt. “I just…I want you to be okay.”
His hand covered hers in her lap. So warm and familiar. “I am okay.”
“But Parkinson’s is…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. How was she supposed to describe the illness when someone she loved had it? So many nights she’d gone down the rabbit hole of research, and every time she did, she never found any hope.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
It took a moment, but finally she turned to look at her father. At his familiar green eyes. Eyes that looked so much like her own. “There is no amount of time or space or illness that could take me away from you. I will always be with you…even if it doesn’t seem like it. Do you understand?”
Tears gathered in her eyes, and she leaned over to tug her father into a hug. “I love you, Dad.”
“Couldn’t possibly be as much as I love you.”
“Not true.”
He hugged her back, his embrace so tight it was like he was holding her together. But then, he’d always held her together, particularly on her hardest days, when all she wanted to do was fall apart.
They separated, and he swiped a tear from her cheek. “Thank you for coming to my checkup with me.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that, and I’ve already got the next one on my calendar.”
“Callie—”
“I’m coming to all of them. I told you that.”
“Jeez, you’re stubborn.”
“I wonder where I got that from.”
Her dad chuckled and the sound made the first real smile stretch Callie’s lips since they’d left the specialist.
He gripped the door handle. “I’ll see you tomorrow for yoga, then dinner. I’ll make—”
“Nope. I’m cooking. I’ll make your favorite lentil curry.”
He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to argue, but maybe he realized it was an argument he wouldn’t win, because he shook his head and climbed out of the car. “I look forward to it. Call if you need anything.”
She nodded, even though she wouldn’t. No way would she burden him with any of her problems.
She waited until he was inside his house before pulling back onto the road. Instantly, the heaviness returned to her chest. But there was also something else—anger. That people just kept being taken from her. And the saddest part was, she’d always stupidly assumed her father would always be there.
When she pulled into her own driveway, she took a moment to inhale a calming breath before getting out. She still remembered the day her father had called to tell her about his diagnosis. She’d been hit by disbelief. Anger. Sadness. And guilt. So much guilt. That in the process of running from this town, she’d inadvertently run from her dad and lost two entire years with him.
Never again. She was never leaving him again.
She went inside, not surprised to see Aspen’s car wasn’t in the drive. She would either be out with Dylan or in a parkor a café, writing. Her best friend struggled to write at home. Something about needing people and noise and inspiration.
If it was her, those things would distract her. But then, maybe that’s why she wasn’t a writer.
