Page 141 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

I laugh into my coffee. “Is it that obvious?”

“To everyone except you.”

He carries another plate to the table before settling into the chair across from me.

For a few minutes, we eat in comfortable silence. It reminds me of yesterday with Dylan.

Maybe silence doesn’t always mean something is wrong.

Sometimes, it means you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Dad sets his fork down. “I saw Dylan yesterday.”

My eyes widen. “You did?”

“He stopped by while you and Mom were helping Joss clean out her catering van last night,” he divulges.

I can’t hide my surprise. “What did he say?”

“He thanked me.”

“For what?” I laugh nervously.

Dad smiles to himself. “For raising a woman worth coming back for.”

Emotion catches unexpectedly in my throat. “He didn’t have to do that.”

“No,” Dad agrees. “He didn’t.”

“I’m glad he did.”

His smile fades into something softer. “You know, your mom and I… we used to worry about you. That we spent so much time trying to protect you from getting hurt that we accidentally taught you to be afraid of living.”

I stare down at my plate. “I don’t think you did.”

“I hope we didn’t,” Dad says as he reaches across the table and pats my hand. “Your mom always used to tell me that you didn’t belong to us. Not really. You belong to yourself. Our job was to take care of you until you were ready to decide who you wanted to be. Where you want to be. The life you want to live.”

“That sounds like her.”

Dad nods. “What’s next, Lu-Lu Bear?”

“I applied for that publishing internship in California,” I tell Dad. “The one I was too afraid to mention.”

His eyebrows lift. “And?”

“They offered it to me.”

Dad smiles. “Whatever happens, Lu-Lu Bear, this home will always be somewhere you can return to if you ever need it.”

My eyes sting. “Dad…”

“Go live your life, Lucy,” he says, the words catching in his throat. “I want that for you.”

I let his words settle over me.

For so long, I thought I was waiting for someone to tell me it was okay to want more than the life I’ve always imagined. But sitting here now, I realize I never needed permission. I only needed to believe I was allowed to choose for myself.

I wish I had figured that out sooner.