Chapter 1
Regan
“I’mhere.Wishmeluck,” I say into my phone to my friend Liz.
“You’ll be fine.Call me later, after you’re settled in.”
“Okay.I’ll call you soon.”
Hanging up, I climb the ten cracked concrete steps up to my father's house, hesitant and uncertain.The nauseating feeling of dread of what I'm about to encounter washes over me as I take in the arched white doors with their peeling paint and brass knockers.His small two-story Victorian in Pulse Point, with its faded blue paint and white wraparound porch, brings back a flood of bittersweet memories that I've tried so hard to suppress.I haven't seen my father, with his scowl and demanding presence, since I fled for college in New York nearly eight years ago.
I press the worn brass bell with a trembling finger and wait for him to answer, my heart hammering loudly in my ears.The imposing white wood opens with a creak that seems to warn me to turn back.With his dark hair now streaked with silver at the temples, deep frown lines etched into his forehead, and thin lips pursed in that familiar expression of disappointment, he stands rigidly next to the door, widening it just enough for me to enter.I pull my black suitcase inside.“Dad.How are you?”I ask out of politeness.
“I'm good.”He peers down at his watch.“I thought you were coming an hour ago.”There it is, already bossing me around, hating that I'm late.
“Sorry.I decided to take my time since I don’t start my residency until tomorrow.”
“I guess that's nice.”But his tone isn't light; it's heavy, and awkwardness settles around us.
His tailored casual clothes of khaki pants and a button-down shirt make it clear he's made an effort, though the warmth stops at his attire.
“You're not working?”I ask.
He closes the door with a loud thump.“No, I thought I would take the day off to welcome you.”
Guilt prickles at the base of my spine for not planning to hang out with him all day, but I push through anyway.“Well, I was actually planning to head out and pick up a few things after I settle in,” I say carefully, not wanting to seem ungrateful.“I hope that's okay.”
“No, I could always take you,” he says insincerely.It makes me instantly resist.
I shake my head.“No, no, I'd like to go alone,” I say as I squeeze the handle of my luggage tighter.Him following me in the store, directing which product to buy, and lecturing me on it sounds like a nightmare.Because he won’t treat me like a competent adult; he’ll treat me like a work project that needs managing.I’m twenty-six.I don’t need a babysitter.“Maybe some other day,” I say with a soft smile, trying to ease the tension between us.I’m going to have to live here for a year.I need to make it comfortable.
“Sure.Well, let's get you settled.”
I catch the tightness in his body as I follow him down the hallway.He’s never been much for home maintenance; work always came first.The house feels generic, like anyone could live here.No family photos.No knick-knacks.Just old, basic furniture that's seen better days.
Dragging my suitcase behind me, I take a deep breath and step into my old bedroom.
Nothing has changed.
It’s like stepping back in time.Part of me expected him to box up my things and redecorate it into a guest room.Something to prove we’d both grown up and moved on.
The faded peach walls are still covered with the same teenage posters.Dusty high school soccer trophies line the shelf in perfect order.My old stuffed teddies sit neatly on the bed, untouched.It’s like he sealed the room off, keeping it frozen in time.
“I’ll let you get unpacked,” he says, before turning and walking away.
Leaving my luggage on the floor, I sink onto the bed.The old frame squeaks loudly beneath me.As I run my fingers over the faded floral duvet, my gaze drifts toward the window, where white lace curtains hang.Rising, I tug them open, staring out at the large garden filled with spring blooms.
Some days, I do miss the open spaces with greenery stretching as far as the eye can see.But I like my life in the city more.I like the buzz, the people, the sense of belonging I never felt here.I don't want miles of garden; I want noise and laughter and faces that light up when they see me… like my mom’s.Not this feeling of being a shadow in someone else’s home.
Turning back toward the room, I take in the quiet, empty space.No TV.The air thick with stillness.Sighing, I lift my case onto the bed and unzip it.
I definitely need to make some updates.But is it worth it if I’m only here for twelve months?Yes,I tell myself.I have to.I can't wake up every day surrounded by who I used to be.I'm not that girl anymore.I've grown, and my life should reflect that.
Pulling out my clothes, I fold them into the dresser drawers and hang a few things in the closet.I stack a couple of books on the small bedside table, already planning to spend my free time reading, working out, or exploring.Anything but staying trapped in this house with him.
Once I’m finished, I slide my empty suitcase into the closet and dust off my hands.It’s not much, but it feels good to at least get that part done.I step out into the hallway, heart thudding a little too fast as I go looking for Dad.I should probably spend some time with him before I head out.He did take the day off, after all.Maybe if I sit with him a bit, then I can leave without feeling like a complete bitch.
I find him at the kitchen table, the morning paper spread out in front of him, reading glasses perched low on his nose.His head stays bowed, eyes moving steadily across the page.For a second, I just stand there, unsure how to approach him, unsure how tobehere again after so long.
