“That won’t be a problem,” my dad said. “She’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future.”
The foreseeable future? What did he mean by that? I had school on Monday.
“Very well. Make sure to keep that journal, Brooklyn. I’ll see myself out.” Dr. Wilson’s shoes echoed in the empty hall.
“Does it still hurt?” my dad asked.
I wasn’t sure what he was talking about specifically. My cuts? My heart?
But then he reached down and inspected the bandage on the back of my ankle.
I knew what he needed to hear. And I knew it would help if he heard the truth. “Everything hurts a little less now than it did before.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look reassured. “I thought I could protect you.” He lifted his hand away from my bandage and ran it down his face. “I never meant to put you in danger. You were safer without me.”
I’d never seen him like this. He was always so put together. But tonight? He just seemed…human. I liked this side of him a whole lot better. “I’m glad you found out about me.” I was just getting used to him. And I was a little sorry it had taken me so long. He was a good person. I could tell.
He cleared his throat and stood up. “You need to get some rest. And I have a few more things I need to take care of.”
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
He smiled down at me. “No, I’m not leaving.” He pulled the comforter back on the bed, holding it up for me to climb under.
Was he tucking me in? I wasn’t a kid anymore, but it warmed my heart. I had a weird feeling that despite having a daughter already, he didn’t really know what he was doing. I lay down and he pulled the covers over me. I was reminded of my mom again, tucking me in when I was little. Only he was way more awkward about it. Is it normal to literally tuck the sides in around my body? He was wrapping me up like a sausage. But the fact that he had no idea what he was doing just made it that much sweeter.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked. “Anything at all? Are you hungry? Or…”
“Is James still here?” I wanted to thank him for everything.
He lowered his eyebrows slightly. “No, I sent him home.”
That was probably a good thing. James needed to be focusing on his relationship with Rachel.
“Do you want him to come back?” he asked. “I can have someone go pick him up. Just say the word.”
I shook my head. “No.” I didn’t need James right now. “But could you maybe get Matt?” I needed him. I just needed him to hold me like he had the nights after my uncle passed away. I needed his comfort. I wanted him back.
My dad nodded. “I’ll make sure he comes.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on my forehead. Instead of walking away, he pushed a loose strand of hair out of my face. His fingers slowly ran through my hair.
Even though the pads of his fingers were rough, where my mom’s had been soft, it still reminded me of her. I blinked fast, holding back my tears. Had she done this to him too? Comforted him when he was feeling scared or down? “Dad?”
He smiled when I called him that. “Yes?”
“Can you sit with me until I fall asleep?”
He sat down next to me on the bed, his fingers lazily brushing my hair again. “Of course.”
I closed my eyes.
It was silly, but it was almost like I could feel my mom next to me. If I focused on it hard enough, I could even smell her perfume. I started to nod off with my dad’s fingers untangling my messy hair.
“Go to sleep, princess,” he whispered.
If I was his princess, that meant Isabella wasn’t. I smiled to myself. I was going to take everything from her.
Chapter 5
Sunday
I opened my eyes as the light streamed in through the blinds. I felt disoriented and still tired. But something had woken me. And the first thing that popped into my head was that Isabella was here.
A door squeaked as if the hinges were rusty.
I sat up in bed. Everything in the apartment seemed brand new. So what door could have sounded that way? My heart was pounding as I threw off the covers. I rolled out of bed and stepped down onto the floor. Ow. How could my feet possibly hurt more today?
I cringed as I opened the door of my bedroom and peered out. The locked door at the end of the hall was wide open. It felt like my heart was beating in my throat as I tiptoed down the hall. I expected to see Isabella in the room. What I didn’t expect was to see a room packed full of furniture and clothes and knickknacks. And my dad sitting on an old couch, his hand on his forehead, the sound of him crying softly.