Page 218 of Hard Pass

“That has to be hard.”

“Life is hard.” I snort. “The last fucking week is proof of that.” Her arms loosen around my waist as I turn so I can face her, then I pull her in against me and breathe her in. “To address your comment, I’m sure the anger will fade in time, but I don’t know if forgiveness is possible.”

She leans up and cups my cheek, and I lean my face into it. Is this normal? To want to lean into every touch? To want to make every second together last longer? To know she’s the one I want comfort from?

“I’m sorry you had to deal with all this,” she whispers.

“I’m fine,” I say.

She tips her head back enough to look at me. “No, you’re not.”

“But I will be.” I pause. “This week finally taught me the difference between people who love me, and people who need something from me.”

“That’s a heartbreaking sentence,” she says.

“True, but it’s also been kind of freeing.”

Her gaze searches mine like she’s still checking for fractures beneath the surface. There are plenty, but right now they don’t feel fatal.

“C’mon,” I say, grabbing her hand and moving to the backyard.

The sunset is bleeding orange and gold across the Austin skyline by the time we settle outside. Dublin curls into the chair beside me sideways, bare feet tucked beneath her, while I stretch my legs out in front of me and lean my head back. The warm air wraps all around us as we silently watch the sky change colors.

When I look over, Dublin is looking up at me. “Hi,” she says with a soft smile.

My brow furrows. “Hi?”

“There he is,” she says, using my own words back on me.

Warmth settles in my chest, and I pull her legs so they drape across my lap. My thumb traces lazy circles on her calf as I reflect on the past few days. Emotionally draining but cathartic.

“My dad,” I say.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she says and rests her head on my shoulder.

“I know.” I stare at the sunset. “But I want to.”

“Okay.”

“After learning about Tristan, my head was a mess. I called Dr. Hawley, not because I couldn’t talk to you but . . .”

“It’s okay. Please don’t apologize. She’s a professional.” She presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I’m impressed you knew what you needed and saw her.”

Why does that stupid compliment make pride swell?

She can’t see it, but it makes me smile.

“It’s been a process,” I say and chuckle. “Even Doc would attest to that.” I shake my head. “And so we talked through Tristan and my dad and . . . you.”

“Me?”

“You’re my safe space,” I whisper.

She looks up and her eyes shine with love that months ago I’m not sure I could have accepted. Now I own it proudly.

“Gladly,” she says and lets the moment sit for second. “But after you talked to her, you went and confronted your dad.”

“I did.” I nod.