“Fuck. Naomi. Just give me a second. I don’t talk about this shit to anyone. Okay?”
“Why start now?” She stood up.
“You met my father.” I blurted out the words.
Slowly, she sank back into the chair.
I started pacing again. “At the shelter,” I said.
“Oh my God. Duke,” she said. The realization hit her. “You cut his hair. You introduced us.”
I hadn’t introduced them. Naomi had introduced herself.
“When my mom died, he didn’t deal. He started drinking. Stopped going to work. Got busted for a DUI. That’s when Liza and Pop took us in. They were grieving too. For them, being around me and Nash wasn’t some painful reminder of what they lost. But for my father… He couldn’t even look at us. The drinking continued here. Right here at the bar before it was Honky Tonk.”
Maybe that’s why I bought it. Why I’d felt compelled to turn it into something better.
“When the alcohol stopped numbing him, he went looking for something harder.”
So many memories I’d thought I’d buried came rushing back.
Dad with bloodshot eyes, scratches and scabs all on his arms. Bruises and cuts he didn’t remember on his face.
Dad curled on the floor of the kitchen, screaming about bugs.
Dad unresponsive on Nash’s bed, an empty bottle of pills next to him.
I chanced a glance up at her. Naomi was sitting stock still, eyes wide and sad. It was better than the frosty indifference.
“He was in and out of rehab half a dozen times before my grandparents kicked him out.” I shoved my hand through my hair and gripped the back of my neck.
Naomi didn’t say anything.
“He never got his shit together. Never tried. Nash and I weren’t enough of a reason for him to hang on. We lost my mom, but she didn’t choose to leave us.” I swallowed hard. “Dad? He chose. He abandoned us. He wakes up every day and makes the same choice.”
She blew out a shaky breath, and I saw tears in her eyes.
“Don’t,” I warned her.
She gave a little nod and blinked them back. I turned away from her, determined to get it all said.
“Liza J and Pop did their best to make it okay for us. We had Lucian. We had school. We had dogs and the creek. It took a few years, but it was good. We were okay. We were living our lives. And then Pop had a heart attack. Keeled over fixing the downspout on the back of the house. Dead before he hit the ground.”
I heard the chair move, and a second later, Naomi’s arms came around my waist. She didn’t say anything, just pressed herself against my back and held on. I let her. It was selfish, but I wanted the comfort of her body against mine.
I took a breath to fight off the tightness in my chest. “It was like losing them all over again. So much useless fucking loss. It was too much for Liza J. She broke down and cried in front of the casket. This silent, never-ending well of tears as she stood over the man she’d loved for her entire life. I’ve never felt more helpless in my entire goddamn existence. She shuttered the lodge. Drew the curtains to keep the light out. She stopped living.”
Once again, I hadn’t been enough to make someone I loved want to go on.
“Those curtains stayed closed until you,” I whispered.
I felt her hitch against me, heard a ragged breath.
“Fuck, Naomi. I told you not to cry.”
“I’m not crying,” she sniffled.
I dragged her around to my front. Tears streaked her beautiful face. Her lower lip trembled.
“That’s in my blood. My dad. Liza J. They couldn’t deal. They lost themselves, and everything around them spiraled out of control. I come from that. I can’t afford to give up like that. I already have people who depend on me. Hell, some days it feels like this whole damn town needs something from me. I can’t put myself in a position where I’ll let them all down.”
She let out a slow, shaky breath. “I can see how you’d feel that way,” she said finally.
“Don’t feel sorry for me.” I squeezed her arms.
She swiped a hand under her eyes. “I’m not feeling sorry for you. I’m wondering how you’re not a larger teeming mess of trauma and insecurities. You and your brother should be very proud of yourselves.”
I snorted, then gave in to the urge to pull her into me. I rested my chin on the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, Naomi. But I don’t know how to be different.”
She stilled against me, then tilted her head back to look at me. “Wow. Knox Morgan just said he was sorry.”