I huff. “Relax.”
“No,” he says simply. “I am serious. No one is going to say anything about how you are dressed.”
A beat.
“They will be too busy watching you.”
My cheeks warm slightly.
Not embarrassed.
Just—
aware.
Of everything that’s shifting around me.
He gestures again, already moving toward a sleek black SUV parked near the curb.
“Besides,” he adds over his shoulder, “I refuse to let my daughter eat cafeteria food after playing like that.”
I laugh, falling into step beside him. “It’s not that bad.”
He opens the door for me, one brow lifting. “We will correct that tonight.”
I pause before getting in.
Just for a second.
Glancing back toward the gym.
Toward where I know he was.
Where that moment happened.
Where something cracked open I can’t close again.
My chest tightens.
Just slightly.
Then I look away.
Slide into the car.
And let the door shut.
And the truth?
It doesn’t matter how good dinner is.
Or how proud my father is.
Or how perfect this moment should feel.
Because underneath it?—
quiet.
Persistent.
Unavoidable—
I still feel him.
