Page 121 of Chasing Lyric
And if she steps toward me, even just an inch, I’ll be ready.
But until then, I wait.
Because loving her means knowing when not to touch.
Even when it’s killing me not to.
Now it’s time to help her relax, not feel more tension, so I gesture for us to head for the sofa, and she steps down into the sunken living room.
She shakes her head. “How did you do this?”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Lyri.”
Her eyes meet mine, and she exhales, dropping down on the sofa, then leans across to the coffee table, smelling the flowers in front of her. I move in, sitting next to her.
“Why did you get Dax to bring me here, Chase? You know how I feel about you!”
Crap.
“I do… you love me. No matter how hard you fight against it, Lyri, you still love m—”
“That’s sooonotwhat I meant.”
“No, but it’s true, though,right?”
She turns away from me slightly. “It’s irrelevant, Chase. I don’ttrustyo—”
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the front door, interrupting us. My chest squeezes knowing Lyric’s second and biggest surprise has arrived.
“I’ll get it,” Dax hollers from upstairs.
I reach out, grabbing her hands. She turns to face me, narrowing her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away.This is a good sign.“Lyri, I want you to know I did this out of love. I hope you like your surprise.”
She tilts her head as her eyes widen a little, like my surprises are scaring her. I guess she never knows what she’s going to get with me.
“Lyric,” a deep voice rings through the living room.
We both turn as the front door creaks open.
A man steps inside, silhouetted by the fading light. His long, tatty hair brushes his collar, the brown leather jacket he wears is cracked with age, and the ripped jeans hanging off his lean frame tell a story of a life lived loud and without apology. He’s older, sure, but there’s something magnetic about him. He could walk onstage at any moment and make a crowd fall silent.
His eyes, lined with faint guy-liner tattoos, are gritty and intense, locking onto Lyric with the weight of a thousandunspoken regrets. They gloss over in an instant, and that’s when I know.
She knows, too.
Lyric freezes, sucking in a slight gasp. Her body stiffens beside me, as if all the air has been pulled from her lungs. Her trembling hand rises slowly until it covers her mouth. Lyric’s eyes are wide, but not in fear, in disbelief. She’s seeing a ghost she’s dreamed of hugging, but never expected to actually face again. At least not for the next few years.
“Daddy?” she breathes out the word, barely louder than a whisper, the word hardly escaping her mouth.
Stylo Griffin steps further into the room, his voice gravelly and low. “Yeah, baby girl, it’s me. I’m sorry I’ve been away for too damn long. But I got a call, I heard you needed me. And if my girl needs me…” he pauses, emotion tightening his throat, “… I’m gonna be right here.”
She doesn’t speak.
She doesn’t have to.
Lyric stands, then takes one shaky step forward, then another, and suddenly she’s sprinting across the room, dress fluttering behind her like wind in a storm. She launches herself into her father’s arms with a cry that cracks me straight down the middle. Her sobs hit fast and hard, her arms wrapped so tight around him it looks like she’s trying to hold time still, afraid that if she lets go, he’ll disappear all over again.
He catches her with that same desperate strength, arms wrapping around her like he’s been waiting years to feel this exact moment.
