Page 117 of Don't Say You're Sorry

EASTON

The next day, I get home from practice to find my dad standing outside the front door, waiting for me. He’s wearing gray sweats and a T-shirt of all things, his dark hair disheveled. It looks as if he hasn’t come across a mirror since he rolled out of bed this morning.

“Didn’t you knock?” I close my car door and wave a hand at the house. “Adam’s inside.”

“I did,” he says tiredly. “The blonde one with the snippy attitude answered. She said I wasn’t allowed in until you said it was okay.”

“Frankie,” I say flatly, slinging my duffel over my shoulder. “The blonde one is Frankie. She was my date to your party. And she’s been living with me for eight months.”

“I know that.” He sighs, his shoulders slumping. “I’m not good with names, okay?”

“Only when it comes to the people inmylife,” I mutter.

“Easton.”

“What’s Veronica’s hair stylist’s name?”

He starts to answer, then quickly presses his lips shut.

“You listen when she talks.” It’s not an accusation. I’m not even angry about it. It just is what it is. “You love her more than me.”

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Not more. I would die for you, Easton. I would do anything for you. But—” Again, he shuts his mouth, unsure how to explain. Or maybe he does know how to explain, but he also knows it’ll make him sound like a dick.

The front door opens, and Adam walks toward us, side-eyeing my dad as he slips his hand into mine. I lock my fingers with his and give him a little squeeze. He stands beside me, facing my dad and daring him with his eyes to say something about us.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he looks at us both and says, “I’m sorry.”

I narrow my eyes. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes. I didn’t realize what Adam leaving would do to you until he was already gone. I knew you loved him, but I didn’t realize how much more it was than that. I didn’t know…”

“But then you did,” I say. “Why didn’t you call it off? Why didn’t you bring him back?”

He doesn’t answer that.

“Veronica,” I answer for him, laughing under my breath.

“I thought I was going to lose her.” His eyes plead with me to understand. “Wouldn’t you do the same for Adam?”

“No,” I say without hesitation. Adam stiffens, his head snapping toward me when I add, “If we had a child, and I had to choose between them and him, I wouldn’t choose. I’d find a way to make it work. I’d find a way to make sure my family was okay. All of them.”

“I couldn’t see a way,” my dad says quietly, averting his eyes to something over my shoulder. “All I saw in my mind was you and Adam…together. I saw my wife walking in on you. I saw her scream in horror and disgust. I saw you refusing to end thingswith him. I saw Veronica’s heart break. I saw my marriage fall apart. I saw myselflose her…” He swallows. “I panicked.”

I stare at him, not missing his red, glassy eyes or the dark circles underneath them. I don’t have to ask him if he managed to get any sleep last night. The answer is written all over his face. He looks exhausted. Terrified. Lost…

The way he loves Veronica…it’s the same way I love Adam. That all-consuming, once-in-a-lifetime kind of love.

Or maybe, for my dad, it’s twice in a lifetime.

I wonder, briefly, if he felt the same way about my mother. We never really talked about their relationship in detail. His stories were always about the three of us. He never shared much about their lifebeforeme. And whenever I asked, he’d change the subject—subtle as a sledgehammer.

My childhood was…rough. For both of us. He was a good dad. He did everything he was supposed to do. But even at eight, I knew he was broken. Depressed. Hollowed out by a loss that had stolen his joy, stripped him down to someone I didn’t recognize.

Then he met Veronica. And he smiled.Reallysmiled. He laughed. At the time, it felt like the strangest thing I’d ever seen. I watched, fascinated, as he became someone I’d only seen in old photos.

Veronica was the best thing that ever happened to him. Tous.

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