“You’d see Iris is struggling. She’s trying, and she’s struggling.”
There’s a tiny flicker of something I can’t read on John’s face. Guilt, maybe, or remorse, but it vanishes, and he lifts his gaze skyward.
“Don’t be ridiculous. She needs to focus, to actuallyapplyherself. She’s always been that way.”
Anger burns white-hot in my chest, and my fists ball at my side. I force myself to take a measured breath, so I don’t explode.
“That’s not what this is,” I say through my teeth. “She’s not lazy, John, she’s overwhelmed. Iris tries so hard she’s burning herself out. She’s been compensating her entire life, but you’ve been too busy tearing her down to notice.”
John’s jaw hardens to stone. “Watch yourself, Brooks.”
“No,” I say, standing taller. “You need to hear this. You’ve misunderstood her. Judged her for something she can’t control. You’ve made her life harder because you don’t want to see the truth.”
His gaze moves over me, sharp as a knife. “You seemawfullyinvested in my daughter.”
The words land like a grenade. A warning. A threat. One misstep, and I could blow everything to smithereens.
I want to tell John that ofcourseI’m invested in her. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, with more resilience and creativity than anyone I know, but I can’t. I won’t. It’s not my place, and I’ve done enough damage.
I meet his gaze head-on, forcing myself not to flinch. “This isn’t about me,” I say evenly. “It’s about the fact that she’s talented and hardworking, and you treat her like a failure.”
John scowls, waving a dismissive hand. “She’s old enough to look after herself. You’re not doing her any favors by babying her.”
“I’m not babying her,” I bite out. “I’m seeing her for who she is. You could too, if you wanted to, but you’re too damn stubborn to try.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I expect him to press me again, to ask if there’s something going on with Iris and me, but he shakes his head.
“If you’re resigning because of her, then you’re making the biggest mistake of your career.”
I dump the rest of my belongings into the box, hoisting it into my arms. “Thanks for the advice, John, but what you think no longer matters.” And with a deep, steadying breath, I leave the office.
The relief is palpable as I step onto Fruit Street. I’ve spent so long trying to get approval from withholding men—my father, John—and for what? I don’t need their approval. I can become the man I needed all along.
And I can only hope that man will be enough for Iris.
37
IRIS
Ikeep my phone off for the next two days.
When I finally turn it on, it’s a mistake. There are seven missed calls from my father, four voicemails I don’t dare listen to, and three texts.
Dad: Where the hell are you?
Dad: I don’t have time for your theatrics.
Dad: Iris, enough. You need to start taking your life seriously.
My pulse races as I read his words, hands clammy on my phone.
Shit. I’ve really done it this time.
I didn’t mean to disappear for forty-eight hours, but after talking with Eric, I couldn’t shake this idea of ADHD. It became an itch—an itch I needed to scratch. I must have read every possible website on the topic, listened to every possible podcast, and… holy smokes. I think Eric might be right.
I thinkAidanmight be right, as much as it stings.
I’ve never felt so exposed as I read through the list of symptoms in women. Things I thought were just me, things I’ve tried—and failed—to fix. All this time I thought I was too much,and also, somehow, not enough. All this time I’ve tried to make up for the ways I’ve fallen short.
