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My eyes wander around the empty room before finding Dad sitting beside my bed, his fingers laced together, his head bowed.

“Dad?”

He swings up. “You okay?”

I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, but I nod. “Do they know what happened?”

“Your vitals look good, but they’re running some tests to see what went wrong.”

I shift against the bed so the ties at the back of my hospital gown move off to the side.

“You need to rest,” Dad says, his hand over mine.

I shake my head. “I need to talk.”

He doesn’t deny my words.

“I’m not doing this again,” I whisper.

“Doing what? Passing out and coming to the hospital?”

I try to crack a smile through chapped lips. I lick them with an even drier tongue. He grabs a cup at the side of me and holds the straw to my mouth as I sip.

When I lean back, he replaces the cup and stares over at me.

“I’m not arguing with you again,” I clarify. “Especially about Archer. It’s time...it’s time for you to listen.”

He doesn’t say a word, his features soft and sober, his brows drawn high as I begin.

I can’t keep this to myself any longer. I tell Dad what Archer shared with me—about his actions, his grief, and his efforts to help the family he inadvertently hurt. I speak openly about my feelings for him, what he’s done for me the last few weeks, and how my life has brightened because of him.

All the while, Dad remains silent, his gaze down, though every once in a while, tears brim in his eyes.

“He’s not the same as he was before,” I say. “He’s worked for all he has and has been honest in every way. He’s good, and kind, and treats me with respect. I love him, Dad.”

I finish, resting my head against the pillow as I wait for his response.

He nods, does a quick sniff to hide his emotion, then lifts his head. “That was...enlightening. And humbling.”

Hope captures the dim light in the room and brings it to my soul, increasing its brightness as each second ticks by.

“I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you,” he says, his eyes still glimmering as his voice cracks. “But in forcing my protection, I lost sight of the fact that you’re your own woman—and you’ve grown into exactly the sort of woman I am incredibly proud of. Exactly the sort of woman your mother was.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I tug at Dad’s hand until he stands, leaning over me and pressing a loving kiss to my forehead.

“I’m sorry for everything, Jules.”

I cling to his arms as he cradles my face in his warm hands. “Love you, Dad.”

He gives me another kiss, then returns to his chair, holding my hand in his again. He helps me take another sip of water, then we share a smile, and the walls that had been built up around us crumble to the hospital floor.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“Can I be honest about something else?”

He nods.