“It was…hard when you were born.” Something twitched in Dad’s eye. “I didn’t want to love you, but I couldn’t help it. I still can’t.”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. I charged across the garage and into Dad, knowing he would catch me. He rocked back a few steps, laughing into my hair and hoisting me into the air. And there was my hug. The one he wouldn’t give me in our kitchen earlier. The one that he’d held back because he didn’t know if he had a right to take me from her again when he blamed himself for so much.
The paper he’d been holding slipped from his hand and fluttered open on the ground. The print was patchy in places since we were always running low on ink, but I could read it plainly. And I started to ugly cry.
Not because I needed more proof; I didn’t. But it felt good, better than good, knowing it was right there in black and white.
A flight confirmation for two one-way tickets to Portland.
Dad pulled back, holding my shoulders. “Jill, it’s okay now.”
I nodded because it was, no matter what happened next. “When the Spitfire broke down, I called her. I wasn’t going to wait for her to show up again. I tried to make her understand that it’s you and me, Dad. Always and forever. But I don’t know what she’s going to do.” I bent down and picked up the paper. “But I want to stay here, to fight here.”
Dad let me go so suddenly that I wobbled. He took the paper from me and tore it into pieces, smiling the whole time. “I came looking for you after I printed this.” He dropped the shredded pieces onto the table. “But when I got here, your mom…she called me. Jill, she’s not going to fight us.”
Something fluttered in my chest, and I remembered that last hug she’d given me. For a moment I forgot everything she’d done to Dad and me and Sean. For one soaring heartbeat, I let her love me. I closed my eyes. “Say it again.”
He touched his forehead to mine. “She’s not taking you away from me. It’s over. You’re stuck with me now, kid. Oil changes and cold pizza and—”
“Everything I could ever want.”
CHAPTER 43
Nothing about Arizona weather was subtle. Five months of summer meant it wasn’t just hot outside; you felt the skin cells on your body die as the sun burned them away. Rain was no kinder, except we didn’t call it anything so mundane as rain. It had its own season—monsoon—and it overlapped with the last two months of summer, bringing with it torrential thunderstorms, flash flooding, dust devils and the more frightening haboob dust walls that could average 30mph.
By the end of July, the air had lost its burning sting in favor of sticky heaviness despite the still-blistering sun. I could almost see steam rise up from the earth each time the rain hit.
It wasn’t unusual for the retention basin down the street to flood high enough that some of our neighbors took kayaks and inner tubes to the makeshift pond.
Driving became something of a combat sport. All the rain brought oil and grime to the road surfaces, making them slick and slippery. Add in near-zero visibility and flooded underpasses, and business at the shop picked up considerably.
It felt wrong to be happy about that, but I was.
And the much-needed influx in business wasn’t just from the monsoon season. Claire and Sean and I passed out flyers until we had more paper cuts than skin on our hands. It wasn’t until that first week of August, however, that I realized we were going to make it. Not just the shop, but me and Dad.
Each day after that last visit with Mom felt surreal. We weren’t going to get a letter from a lawyer or another call from her. I’d wake up in my bed—which I’d begun sleeping in on a trial basis—and I wouldn’t believe that she was truly gone.
And it was hard wanting to smile and cry about that. Because she was my mom. She would always be my mom, so it would never be as simple as hating her and not.
I wanted to talk to Daniel about it like I wanted air. I was panting for it. I missed him. But it bothered me that maybe I didn’t miss him enough.
He’d gotten home two days ago. I saw his Jeep, but not him. The past couple nights I’d thought about going up to my roof to see if he might slip out and join me, but I never got farther than peering out my closed window. It wasn’t a good idea to be that person for him; it wasn’t fair to either of us. And it wasn’t like he was seeking me out either. Maybe it was better that way.
So instead of escaping to my roof at night, I went during the day.
I normally sat on the flat spread of roof that covered the back patio, but this time I sat closer to the edge, letting my bare legs hang free as I leaned back on my palms and watched the sunset.
There was still a sliver of golden sun peeking through in the west. The deep purple sky was shot through with vibrant pinks and oranges. They never looked quite real. Even after nearly seventeen years, there was something sublime about Arizona sunsets. It looked more like a child’s paint set splashed across the sky, only it was too perfectly painted.
Of course I looked at Daniel’s house, but I looked down at mine too.
Only two people lived there. I dragged my hand across the shingles, feeling the rough surface scratch against my palm.
I didn’t startle when Sean poked his head up over the edge. I’d watched his Jetta pull up and knew Dad would have told him where I was.
A month ago, the idea of sharing this space with Sean would have horrified me. Back then, he was one of the main things I was trying to escape. But I didn’t feel the need to hide from him anymore. I wanted him with me. After that night on the merry-go-round, the idea of watching the sunset with Sean—or doing anything with him—was about as far from horrifying as it could get.
He knocked on the eave, making me smile. “I brought you something. It’s part of my get-Jill-to-love-me strategy.”
