Page 95 of I Saw Her First

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m not sure. Maybe a few days.”

“Right. Okay. I’ll make up your bed.” And with that, she’s off again, as if she can’t bear to be alone in a room with me for five minutes.

I push up from the stool and go to the fridge, hesitating before pulling out a soda. This might be the house where I grew up, but it doesn’t feel like home. I feel more at home in Weston’s house.

I shake the thought off and take a long pull of cola, studying the photos pinned to the fridge door. My parents on a cruise. My parents in Florida. My brother, Brad, and some woman I assume to be his girlfriend, Anne. I’ve never met her, but on the rare occasion we’ve emailed, Brad has mentioned her.

I turn and wander through the living room, looking out at the backyard. It’s weird being back here. So much has changed for me, not in the years since I left, but in the time that I’ve been with Weston. That’s why I have the courage to be here right now. If you’d told me a few months ago I’d be coming back here voluntarily, I’d have laughed, and not in a funny way. But with the inner strength Wes has given me, I know I can face this. I can facethem.

My heart slumps thinking about Wes, and my eyes sting. I don’t want to give him up. I don’t want to think about what will happen if he can’t make it right with Jess.

“Dahlia.”

My father’s voice interrupts my thoughts, and I turn around, blinking from my reverie. I must have stood there for some time, because the shadows have moved across the yard, and the half-drunk soda is warm in my hand.

“Hi, Dad.”

He sets his briefcase on the coffee table and gives me a once-over that makes me break out in a cold sweat.

“How’s big city life treating you?”

My grip tightens on the soda can. “Good.”

He grunts as he loosens his tie. His mustache is almost entirely white now, and his dark eyes are beady as they appraise me. I forgot how intimidating my father can be, and just like that, I’m right back to feeling like a kid in trouble.

“How’s the career?”

I swallow, shrinking into myself. “It’s… coming along.”

I’m almost relieved when my mom enters the room again.

“Oh, good. I see you two are getting reacquainted.”

Dad nods, saying nothing, his eyes still assessing me, and somewhere inside, a small voice reminds me that I’m not the same kid they let down all those years ago. I’m an adult now.

I think of all the times Weston tried to talk to Jess, all the times he wished his son would sit down and work through the things that stand between them. And while it should probably come from my parents first, I know that’s not going to happen. It’s up to me to repair things.

In that moment, the childlike, hopeful part of me truly believes it’s possible.

I take a deep breath, facing my parents squarely. “I was hoping we could talk.”

They exchange a frown.

“About what?” Mom asks, issuing a nervous laugh.

Is that a joke?

“About… everything. The Walkers. The fight we had after I graduated. My life since I left—”

“Dahlia.” My father pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a long-suffering sigh. “Is that why you’ve come here? To dredge up the past?”

The balloon of hope inside my chest bursts.

I glance between my parents, fighting the sting in the back of my throat as reality settles back in. As much as I want what Wes has with Jess—what he desperatelywantswith Jess—I can’t have that. It’s not the same, and it never will be.

“I…” I shake my head, the notion of having a healthy, healing conversation with these people suddenly striking me as preposterous. “No,” I mumble. “Never mind.”

“Anyway, your mother has her book club tonight,” my father says, apropos of nothing.

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