Page 118 of As You Walk On

“I wasn’t even twenty-three when your grandfather died.” His eyes blink open. “Barely out of college. He was agreatman. Worked hard. But he never told me he was proud of who I was. That he felt like I’d made it. That I was gonna keep making it.”

I curl forward, needing to be closer to him.

“Your granny... God, I loved her,” he whispers, head tilted back like he’s speaking to her somewhere beyond our house. “I don’t know if I became the man she wanted me to be either. Did I make her proud?”

Every muscle in my back tightens. I want to run into the living room. Snatch the photo of Granny and me from the wall. Remind him of that day. Of how proud IknowGranny was of him.

Yet, the more I think about it, I don’t know if I ever heard hersayit.

Maybe it’s one thing to show up for people. To mean things with our actions. But if we never say it too, how will they know?

“Dad...”

He shakes his head, smiling. “That’s not the point.” His hand turns over, grabbing mine. “Once you got into Brook-Oak, I became one-track-minded. Get you to the best colleges. Get you out of here.”

He sighs. “I never went anywhere. I thought if you did, people would see I did something with my life. That you, as you so eloquently put it, wouldn’t have to live in the shadow of Miles Wright.”

I cringe. “I didn’t mean—”

He waves me off. “No, it’s true.”

That doesn’t make me feel any less like an asshole, though.

“You were right—about Jess and me,” he admits. “Our friendship is... complicated.”

I hold back a snort. There’s that word again. It perfectly describes all my tangled thoughts about Jay.

“You don’t know this, but after that first try with IVF, I made a long post on Facebook about the struggles. It’s how Jess and I reconnected again. She hopped into my DMs—”

“Dad,” I groan. “Rephrase that. It sounds... sketch.”

He bumps my shoulder with a low chuckle. “Anyway. We started messaging. She helped me like she did at Brook-Oak. She planned ways to get the funds for another try. Cosigned on a loan. AndJustin—” A familiar pained expression seizes his face when he says Mr.Scott’s name. “He knew people. Helped me locate a better clinic.”

I bite on my thumbnail.

Wow, Mr.Scott is one of the reasons I’m here?

“I’ve always felt like I owed them for that,” he explains. “It also made me feel like I needed to be the perfect parent in their eyes. If I wasn’t, would they think they made a mistake? That I wasn’t the person they thought I was?”

“Dad, you’re not—”

“I know!” He groans. “What you said was right—if someone’strulyyour friend, you shouldn’t have to impress them. Shouldn’t feel like you owe them anything other than being yourself. You’re not obligated to them. Or vice versa. You shouldwantthe best for each other. Period.”

My lips struggle to hold a smile.

“We’re having lunch next week. Jess and me need to talk,”he tells me. His index finger idly swipes the laptop’s mouse pad, the cursor chasing nothing across the screen. “Maybe you and I can discuss what you’re going through with Jay before then? Work things out... together?”

I nod.

“All this time, I thought I was doing what a parent is supposed to, TJ,” says Dad. He holds my gaze. “But I failed.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! I forgot one of the most important parts of being a parent is to stop,listen, then ask questions. I need to pay attention to what you want for yourself.”

His hand squeezes mine again. I cling to the heat. To Dad’s voice.

“You’re under a lot of pressure. A lot of bullshit...”

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