He laughed. “Anytime. By the way, I’m meeting Zeb Fuller at the old house tomorrow. He wants to walk through it and see how much damage was done to the foundation and the outside brick. He thinks if there are enough bones left he’ll make an offer and rehab the place.”
I gaped at my dad in shock. The house looked like a total loss the last time I saw it. But he wasn’t done.
“If he offers on it I’m making him give half that money to you since the house was half yours.”
I shook my head in an automatic denial. He’d tried to do the same thing with the insurance payout but I wouldn’t let him. “No, Dad. That money is yours. My name wasn’t on the house and I want you to put all that money back into your retirement or maybe you can take Mom on a tour around the world. I haven’t done anything to deserve that kind of generosity from you.”
He swore at me again and narrowed his eyes in a way that I knew meant there was no more argument. “It’s half yours, Avett, not because you earned it or deserve it but because you are my daughter, you lived there, and you lost as much as I did. I watched you grow into a young lady that has my whole heart there. It was always as much your home as it was mine. My retirement is fine, not that it’s for you to worry about. I repaid the money I borrowed for your bail, and I haven’t seen a bill from your man, so maybe you can use the money and settle up with him once it comes … though I doubt it ever will. I don’t care what you do with the money, but if Zeb offers on the house, then that’s what’s happening. End of discussion.”
I sighed in defeat but I couldn’t deny that the idea of writing not only Quaid but also Rome a check for the actual, physical amount I owed them was tempting.
“Well, the house was a wreck so I doubt he’ll make an offer. Night, Dad.”
My dad chuckled. “You don’t know those boys like I do, Sprite. They seem to be able to breathe life into anything that needs a second chance. Come with me tomorrow when I go to meet him and you’ll see for yourself.”
Since I wasn’t spending much time on my own with the baddies still floating around, it was hang with him or at the bar all day and I still wasn’t one hundred percent ready to have a showdown with Rome. I agreed to go to the house with him and spent the next hour in front of the TV letting his words really soak in.
He and my mom had both tragedy and triumph woven throughout their story. They both had some seriously bad decisions under their belts but the best choice for both of them was to be together. Neither of them seemed to regret allowing themselves to love one another even when that love had led to terrible heartache. I cared about Quaid enough to let him go, enough to let my heart hurt as it struggled to beat through the pain I had inflicted upon it.
I could love him and knew I could easily get lost in him and in the goodness he offered. What I wasn’t sure of was if I was strong enough to weather the blizzard of the errors we were both bound to make trying to be together and the consequences that would rain down upon us. I survived my own mistakes and missteps by some kind of miracle. I didn’t want to leave Quaid’s fate and future happiness to that same kind of chance. I was the one who jumped; he was the one that stayed warm and dry. I didn’t want my love to ruin him and I was scared that’s exactly what it would do.
My dad thought the answer was right in front of me … I wasn’t so sure we were looking at the same thing.
THE NEXT DAY I was standing in the driveway of my old home staring listlessly at the charred mess of brick and wood. I couldn’t believe the beautifully restored home was nothing more than a scorched shell of its former glory. I couldn’t believe my dad had the emotional strength to tromp through the ashes with Zeb as the big, bearded contractor knocked against walls and crawled all around the debris. The entirety of my father’s earthly possessions were now nothing more than ashes that could be swept up and discarded, and when I said as much he gave me a hug and told me the things that mattered: me and Mom, his memories and experiences. Those were the things that he would be sad to lose … everything else was simply stuff.
I took a couple steps inside the front door intending to follow the men into the blackened depths and say a proper good-bye but the minute the total loss and wreckage hit me I turned around and walked back out. My dad didn’t want me out in the open by myself so when he saw the flashy Cadillac parked across the street he marched over and knocked on the door. Moments later, a sleepy-looking Hudson Wheeler was standing at my side rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn.
He was even more attractive than I thought he was up close. I liked his mahogany-colored hair and the way his blue eyes crinkled up with sympathy and anger as he looked at the nightmare before us. His eyes were a couple shades darker than Quaid’s and far less world-weary and sharp but they were a pretty, clear blue and that made my heart kick hard when they turned my way. I was used to being around heavily tattooed men, but this guy had most of the guys I knew beat hands down in the ink department. Both sides of his neck sported swirling designs and the back of each of his hands were marked with impressive artwork. When he cocked his head to look at me questioningly, I noticed he even had ink etched into his skin behind his ears. He was colorful, beautiful, and softly spoken. His mellow demeanor was at serious odds with his tough-guy exterior and it made me like him even more than I thought I would. I decided then and there that I hated his bitchy girlfriend even more for all the times she kicked him around for the entire neighborhood to see.
“It’s such a bummer. I hate that this happened to you guys. Brite is the best.”