I smiled at her. Real this time. “Yeah, superstar. We are.”
As we walked back to the car, my hands shook just a little, my shoulders dropped a little as I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I pressed my palm flat against my chest, grounding myself in the quickened thrum of my heartbeat. For the first time in my life, I hadn’t apologized for what someone else perceived was wrong. I hadn’t apologized for advocating for my own happiness.
In the car, Harper asked me if my parents were mad at me. I had to exhale, steadying the wheel, before responding.
Her question hung in the air for a moment, a child’s straightforwardness revealing a deeper truth that adults often danced around. “They just worry in their own way.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Daddy worries too. But he still lets good things happen.”
“You’re a good thing,” she said confidently. “Daddy knows that too.”
My vision blurred just slightly as I felt tears well up in my eyes.
Lost for words, I just reached over and squeezed her knee.
In that moment, I didn’t feel small.
I felt truly seen and heard.
Chapter 27
Logan
Dani’s call came in right after Harper’s bedtime.
I was still sitting on the edge of the small bed in the hotel room, phone balanced in my hand. The distant wail of a siren snakes through the thick, humid air, blending with the honking cars and murmurs of the bustling city outside.
Harper had fallen asleep mid-sentence tonight, mouth open, lashes fluttering, fingers still clutching the stuffed animal she refuses to leave behind.
Then the screen had shifted To Dani.
She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, a full wineglass in her hand. As she lightly swirls the glass, the wine sloshed perilously close to the rim, but her gaze remained distant, unfocused. Her shoulders drawn in tighter than usual, hair pulled back in a loose knot with a few strands escaping around her face. She looks like she’d been holding herself together by will alone.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice even. Calm. Neutral. The way I’ve trained it to be when things seemed uncertain. “She out?”
She nods, managing a weak smile. “Yeah.”
She lifts the glass, takes a sip, then sets it down like she’s forgotten why she picked it up in the first place.
The silence dragged, making my shoulders square and my instincts go on alert. The phone angle shifts, showing her face more clearly. I clear my throat, trying to bridge the gap between us. Her eyes flick to the screen, then drop to her wineglass.
“So,” I keep my words slow, gentle. “You okay, Counselor?”
She hesitates, and I can tell she’s deciding how much to give me.
“We went to my parents’ this afternoon,” she said finally.
“It was our usual lunch,” she continues. “But of course I brought Harper.”
Her mouth twists slightly, like she doesn’t quite believe that word belongs to the story.
“And?”
She shrugs, but it’s tight. Controlled. “And it was fine. Until it wasn’t.”
I lean back against the headboard, rubbing a hand over my face. I already know where this is going, and I don’t like any version of it. She’d told me some things about her childhood in recent days since we’d gotten closer.
“They asked questions about work. About… you.” Her eyes flick up to the camera, searching my face. “About what exactly I’m doing with my life.”
