“Dad…”
I don’t even think. I throw myself at him, my arms wrapping around him just as tightly as I held Emma. He catches me instantly, holding me just as hard.
“You’re okay,” he says into my hair, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. “You’re okay.”
“I thought—” My voice breaks. “I didn’t know where you were?—”
“I’m here,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
For a second— It’s everything. Everything I wanted. My family. Safe. Alive.
And then— It crashes back. Everything else. I pull back just enough to look at him, my hands still gripping his shirt.
“You hit him.”
His expression hardens instantly.
“Yeah,” he says.
No regret. No hesitation. Just anger.
“He—”
“You hit him,” I repeat, my voice sharper now, emotion surging all over again. “What is wrong with you?”
“Willow—”
“No,” I cut him off, stepping back. “You don’t get to just—he didn’t do anything wrong!”
Dad’s jaw tightens. “I saw exactly what he was doing.”
“And I was right there!” I snap. “I kissed him too!”
Emma goes still beside me.
Dad’s expression shifts from anger to something sharper. “What?”
“I kissed him,” I say again, louder this time. “It wasn’t just him, okay? It was both of us!”
His eyes flash. “That doesn’t make it better.”
“It does to me!” I fire back.
My heart is pounding now, my chest tight, everything colliding all at once. Relief. Anger. Love.
All of it tangled together so tightly I can barely breathe.
“I love him,” I say.
The words come out before I can stop them.
But I don’t take them back. I won’t. Dad stares at me like I just said something insane.
“Willow,” he says slowly, his voice controlled in a way that feels worse than yelling. “You’re twenty-two years old.”
I blink. “And?”
“And you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
