Sure.
He doesn’t ask how I’m doing. Doesn’t mention the collapse, the canceled shows, the fact that I’m alone in a hotel room trying not to drown. Justtalk later, which we both know meanstalk never unless the cameras are watching.
I set the phone down and stare at the ceiling.
Maybe this is why I feel so hollow. I’ve been living my life through old memories of love—my mother’s paper hearts, the fantasy of what Grayson could have been—instead of making new ones. I’m a full-fledged adult and I’ve never really beenloved. Not romantically. Not in a way that felt real and present andmine.
I’m starting to wonder if I ever will be.
When my phone rings again, I almost don’t answer. But then I see the name on the screen—Dad—and something in my chest loosens just a little.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Nate’s voice is warm, familiar, the auditory equivalent of a warm hug. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay.” The lie comes automatically. “Just resting.”
“Mmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “Spencer called me this morning. She wanted to fly out, but I told her to wait until you asked. Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“Thank you.” I mean it. I love my big sister, but the thought of her hovering right now, watching me with those worried eyes, makes me want to crawl under the covers and never come out.
“She FaceTimed me this morning. The boys made you a card,” Dad continues. “Eli drew what I think is supposed to be you on stage, but it looks more like a yellow octopus. Remy scribbled blue in the corner because he knows it’s your favorite color. He said it’s asshat art, but I think he meant abstract art.”
Wrong. My favorite color is orange. But I laugh—a real laugh, the first one in days. “Tell them you showed me and that I love it.”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll bring it when I see you.”
“Looking forward to it.” The momentary reprieve of talking to one of my favorite people in the world dissipates and the heavy sullenness returns.
He lets the silence breathe, waiting for me to offer something, but when I don’t he continues. “I’m calling with good news, by the way.”
“Oh yeah?” God, he better not bring up the stock market. No one cares when a billionaire gets even richer.
I can hear the smile in his voice. “We found your box, Charlie.”
I gasp like the message hit me with a physical force. I sit up straighter, my heart pounding deliciously hard. “What?”
“You left it in the dressing room in Vegas. First night of the tour. You must’ve forgot to pack it back up.”
Oh. Of course.I was so tired after that set I could barely stand. I grabbed my phone and nothing else.
“Who found it?” I ask, not that I really care. It’s found. That’s all that matters.
“Housekeeping, I believe. When they did the deep clean of the dressing room. They didn’t know what it was but they had the good sense to call my assistant. It’s already on the way to you. It’ll be there tonight. I wanted to surprise you but?—”
“You suck at surprises.” I smile so big that my cheeks ache. I’ve been Nate’s daughter since I was eleven years old. Never once did I get a gift from Dad on my actual birthday. Always a few days early when he was bursting at the seams.He was way too excited to hand me the world.
“Yeah, well. I wanted to cheer you up, kid. You have me worried.”
“Dad…” My voice cracks. The salty-tear reservoirs have now replenished. But the fat droplets racing down my cheeks are from relief, pure and overwhelming. “I thought it was gone. I thought I’d lost her forever.”
“Charlie, your mom is in your heart. Not just scribbled across notes. You’ll never lose her.”
I know he gets it. Maybe it’s why we bonded so fast. Nate has trauma too from losing the most important person in his life. He understands what it means to have his heart turn cold. But he found a reason to come back alive—my sister, Spencer.
Where’s my reason? Who’s coming to save me?
I feel guilty asking these questions. I’m loved, so why don’t I feel it? I’m successful, but why doesn’t success feel powerful? I’m talking to my dad, but how come…the title feels a little different now? I feel the guilt twist in my stomach like a knife because Nate is the best father I could have ever prayed for. He chose me. He raised me. He loved me without condition or hesitation.
He was the only dad I knew until three months ago when I found out he wasn’t the only father who wanted me. Who loved me.
