We spend the next couple hours catching up in the newly renovated kitchen, Landon and my dad talking like they’ve known each other for years while Becca helps me finish prepping dinner. Christmas music echoes through the home, and even though there’s no ice or snow outside, it already feels like the most festive holiday I’ve had in a long time.
We have a full house tonight. Brit comes with Ollie and Sienna, who arefinallyofficial after all this time. Jake brings his new girlfriend, Quinn. Eli shows up late, Lemon beside him, though we weren’t sure if she would make it considering they’ve broken up four times in the past year alone. Then there’s Theresa and Parker, who’s halfway through his senior year of high school with the intent to study computer engineering at college next year. And, of course, Randall and Snowball, the little dog immediately jumping out of her owner’s arms and running laps through the first floor, tail wagging and tongue lolling.
When everyone’s settled in, I look around the room of people who have my back no matter what, and that part of me that always felt fatigued, like it was trying too hard, or it was stretched too thin, or it was giving, giving, giving with nothing in return, feels full and bright and happy.
Before dinner, I grab Dad by the arm and guide him out to the pool area to show him the sunset. He stares at it the same way I did my first week at Landon’s old house, with wonder and disbelief at the magnificent colors.
“That’s really something, kiddo,” he mutters.
“I know, Dad. It really is.”
And then he reaches out and squeezes my hand, giving me one of those proud, fatherly looks. “Your mom would have loved that sunset.”
I nod. “I think so.”
He clears his throat a bit before he says, “She’d be really proud of you, you know.”
His words make my heart ache, but in a good way, and I give him a sad smile. “You think?”
His eyes meet mine, the look in them similar to the day I left home when he told me to be safe. “I know.”
We stand there for a while, admiring the sky, marveling at the crazy paths that brought us here, before he asks, “Have you spoken to her?”
I know immediately who he’s referring to.
“No,” I say, with a shake of my head. “Not since…that day.”
That day.That day over three years ago when she waved her divorce papers in my face and blamed me for everything. The day she broke my heart. The day she almost brokeme.
It was months before I worked up the nerve to tell my dad about my falling out with Mel, and when I finally did, he didn’t sound as surprised as I thought he would. He sounded like he always expected something like that to happen, and not once did he sayI told you so.I appreciated that, and I realize I never gave him enough credit. I should have told him the truth about her the second I arrived in Florida, but I was too caught up in my own pride and fear and wishful thinking to admit that our “happy reunion” was a farce.
I ask him the question I couldn’t ask over the phone. It was too…raw. “Did Mel really find her?”
He doesn’t respond for a moment, and then he gives a subtle nod. “I failed you both. It should have been me. I stayed at work too late, and Melanie left school early.” He sighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “If I could go back in time…I would have done a lot of things differently. I was too absent when your mom was sick.”
“You had to work-”
His eyes shift away from the sky, landing on mine. I startle at the pain I see in them. The regret. “I wasn’t just working though, Vi. I’d stay out with the guys. I’d do anything to not be in that house when she was like that. I pushed all that responsibility onto Melanie. I should have been better for her. For you.” He swallows, shaking his head. “I don’t blame her for leaving. I never did. I don’t blame you for leaving, either. I’d have done the same.”
Frowning, I slip my hand into his, squeezing lightly. “It’s not your fault, Dad. I think you’re great, and I’m happy you’re here.”
His mouth lifts up at the corner, and he squeezes my hand back. “Me too, Vi. There’s no place I’d rather be.”
It’s taken me a while to accept the end of my relationship with my sister. I went through all the stages of grief until I finally settled into acceptance. Some days are harder than others, though. Some days are filled with more tears than smiles, with more guilt and regret than I’d care to admit, but Landon’s been by my side through it all, even with his own struggles. Some days are hard for him, too, especially after his parents cut him out of their lives.
It was my idea for us to start going to individual therapy to work through lingering issues, and so far, it’s been helpful. I didn’t know if Landon would be into the idea at first, but he surprised me the way he always does. After keeping so much of his life pent up, I think he’s relieved to finally be able to talk things through with a professional. I know I am.
“You seem really happy here,” Dad notes.
“Happy is an understatement,” I respond, that giddy feeling returning as I realize just how lucky I am to have him here. To have everyone here.
Not long after that, Parker peeks his head outside. “Guys, the special’s almost on.”
“Oh, let’s go,” I say, excitement coursing through me. I grab my dad’s hand and drag him back inside to the living room, where everyone’s gathered around Landon’s new 65-inch TV. Because although my dad and Becca are here as a surprise for me, the night really belongs to Landon.
One of the major talk shows is doing a piece on Prolimbinary after the company gifted custom prosthetics to a group of well-deserving kids for the holidays. One is Barbie-themed, another Hulk, a third modeled after Star Wars. I grip Landon’s hand, watching in awe at the spotlight on Prolimbinary, unable to stop glancing over at him to see his reaction. He keeps his eyes trained on the TV, but there’s a genuine smile on his lips, and he’s squeezing my hand hard enough to cut off circulation.
“Ah, there you are, Parker!” squeals Theresa, pointing at the TV when the program rolls through video clips from the shoot they did a few years ago, one of which features Parker on his skateboard. She squeezes her grandson around the shoulders, pointing at the screen. “You’re famous, Parker!”
