Page 94 of Trustfall

“It hurt to see me?” I force myself to swallow down the lump forming in my throat.

“It hurt to see you without her. She should have still been sitting with you on that windowsill. She should have been here to read with you, and laugh with you, and take you dress shopping for school dances.”

“I didn’t go to the dances,” I whisper. “Nate didn’t?—”

“I know,” he says quietly. “He did the best he could, but I let too much fall on him. He was too young.”

Suddenly, all of the emotions I’ve felt for the last twenty-four years catch up to me. I’m fucking pissed. How dare he sit here and tell me about my mom now. After all this time. After he abandoned us.

“I needed you,” I snap. “I needed you when Mom died. When Opa died. When Gram went away. I needed you, and you weren’t there. You were never fucking there.”

“I know,” he says again, and to his credit, he looks genuinely remorseful. But I don’t feel bad. It’s too little, too late.

“Why now?” I ask. “Why are you telling me all this now?”

He closes the book and puts it back in its place, glancing over at me. “Nate called. He told me everything.”

I blow out a breath. What does he mean byeverything?

Is that what this is about? He’s going to chide me for being so foolish? For getting involved with Jaxon to begin with, and then for dating Nate’s friend…

A hint of a smile crosses his lips.

“You love him,” he says without elaboration.

My eyes dart up. It’s a statement, not a question. How does he know?

Fucking Nate.

I can't bring myself to say the words because I'm not even sure what they mean to me right now. But at the same time, I don't want to lie, so I just nod.

“And Jaxon…”

“Was a mistake,” I finish for him. “I was naive. I didn’t know any better. He was cruel, Dad.”

His brows furrow, and regret flashes in his eyes. “That was my fault.”

“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe it was Nate’s fault. Maybe it was mine. I could have taken more control over my own life. It doesn’t really matter now. It happened, and there’s no going back.”

“I…I brought him here,” he says, the regret now fully overtaking his features. “I left you alone with him.”

“Yeah.”

“And…he deserved it? What Luke did?”

“Yes.”

He holds my gaze for a few moments before walking toward another bookshelf. Then he spins around. “I want to make this right, Emory. You’re right. I wasn’t there for you. I just—I want to fix this for you.”

This is the longest conversation I've ever had with my dad. If someone had told me this would happen today, I would've laughed till my stomach was sore. My dad wants to help me? Maybe it's years of pent-up guilt, or maybe he really cares about me. Helping me get Luke out of jail won't make up for a lifetime of neglect, but it's a start.

“Okay,” I say, my voice laced with doubt. “How?”

“I’m willing to post his bail, but I think we should focus on getting Jaxon to drop the charges. Bail will be irrelevant if we can do that.”

“Why the fuck would he drop the charges?”

He gives me a stern look, but he knows better than to comment on my language right now. “Last night," he says, walking closer to me, “I saw Marshall Astor rushing down the stairs, clearly angry. His knuckles were bruised."

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