Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Dad is silent for a few very long, very terrifying seconds. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me this sooner.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I realized it until recently. I feel like I’ve let you down a lot, and I didn’t want to do that again, especially with this.”
“You’ve never let me down.”
I drop my head, fighting with the words, but needing to get them out all the same. I need to make peace not just with myself, but with him as well. I see it all now, the way it links together, how the past keeps coming up because I haven’t ever dealt with it the way I need to. “I feel like I did—not so much with hockey, but with Lavender.”
He moves from the edge of the tub and drops down, crouching in front of me. “Look at me, Maverick.”
I lift my gaze and find him on the edge of emotion. I feel his anguish like fresh wounds.
“Are you talking about the carnival?”
“That’s one instance, yeah.” I swallow bile, uncertain if there’s anything left to purge apart from words and what remains of the guilt I’m trying to let go of.
“And the time she got locked in the closet?” His voice is soft and unsteady.
I nod once, not trusting my voice.
He closes his eyes. “Fuck.”
When they open, they’re swimming. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad cry. I’ve seen him get angry, lose his shit, but the only time I’ve seen him this kind of emotional is when he talked about the accident that nearly ended his career. And the night Lavender went missing. “Are you referring to what happened in my office after? When I lost it?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry, son. I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice breaks, and he turns his head, like he’s trying to keep it together. “I didn’t realize you were still holding onto that after all these years. Not like this. Your mom and I made a mistake—one we can’t ever take back. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just a kid. You weren’t responsible for any of it, and you weren’t responsible for what happened when Lavender got locked in the closet either. There were adults in the house who were supposed to be paying attention. And I knew that lock was prone to jamming. I’d meant to fix it the week before, but I forgot. Your mom had dresses in there, and she’d been going through the closet that afternoon and forgot to close the door and lock it.” He pauses, taking a breath. “I know I lost it on you that night, and I shouldn’t have. I couldn’t get my emotions under control, and it wasn’t fair.”
“I told you it was my fault. It made sense that you’d be upset with me,” I tell him, not wanting to shift that burden off my shoulders and onto his. I’d been the seeker. I should have found Lavender sooner. And he’d gone off in a way that had terrified me. But I felt like I’d deserved it, because for the second time, my selfishness was the reason something bad had happened to her. Rook had eventually come in and told me to go upstairs.
I perceived it as anger back then, but when I think about it now, through an adult lens, I realize he was terrified, that it triggered the memory of when we’d lost Lavender.
He shakes his head. “You were kids. It was an accident. I should never have made you feel like it was yours to own. It wasn’t your fault. If I’d known you were still dealing with this . . .” He looks away, choking on emotion. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it.” He pulls me into a bone-crushing hug—awkward since we’re both still on the floor. “You have always been your sister’s protector and her biggest advocate. Always. You put everyone ahead of yourself.” He pulls back, eyes red-rimmed. “I’m sorry I failed you.”
“You didn’t fail me, Dad.”
“But I did, because I didn’t see how much this was weighing you down, how my actions are responsible for making you feel this way all these years.” He rubs at the corner of his eye, expression despondent. “How can I ease the burden, son?”
“You just did.” I feel like that kid all over again, but instead of the weight of guilt dragging me down, it’s been lifted from my shoulders—a lot like a different weight was lifted after Lavender and I had that heart-to-heart.
For years I’ve carried around that blame, wore it like a punishment, believing everyone felt the same way. Now to be absolved again, to see it through a different lens, brings with it a peace I’ve never experienced before. It’s almost a terrifying feeling, and one I don’t know how to handle.