But the look on his face was like nothing I'd ever seen before. My dad was a stoic man, never allowing emotion to truly break through. But his whole body shook, like there was something deep and powerful rumbling inside him. When he looked past me and locked on his intended target, I almost felt bad for Jason.
Almost.
"You hurt my daughter?" he said tersely, launching himself forward.
Jason staggered backward, his words coming out like sputtering drips of water.
"I don't—I wouldn't—not-"
"You hurt my little girl?"
I watched my father transform before my very eyes. The talk that he never had with Jason was irrelevant. His complete ambivalence about my pain from my breakup, the shrug and words like 'unfortunate', seemed like they were said to someone else. There was no way that this man, this warrior who was glaring at Jason like he wanted to rip him apart, limb-by-limb, could be my dad.
But there he was, chest rising and falling rapidly, the muscles usually camouflaged by suits and ties fearsome. The military man was no longer grainy pictures hidden away in a box in his room, stacked beneath trinkets from my mother. That power and authority was no longer gleaned from a line of text in his bio, intended to suggest patriotism and a hard work ethic. He looked like he could do some serious damage—and his new mission was to destroy Jason Collier.
I shook myself from my stupor, springing into action. I stepped in front of my father and the tank ground to a halt. "You should go," I said to Jason. He gave no argument, becoming a flash of color that darted past my eyes and out the door. I gazed up at my father, tears burning my eyes.
"I am so sorry, Melissa." His voice was raw, his heart finally bared. The doors that were always closed to me were now open, sunshine streaming into the shadows. "I never would have asked him here if I truly knew." His face hardened. "And that billionaire—he hurt you too, and I let you come back here and work like that's all that mattered." He pulled me to his chest and the tears fell like rain. "I know I don't say it enough, but you're my daughter, Melissa. I love you. I should have protected you from this."
I pulled back, saw the soggy faces print I left on his shirt, and immediately felt mortified. "I'm sorry-"
"No, I'm the one that owes you an apology," he interjected softly. "I'm sorry that I made you feel that you couldn't come to me. I know I don't make it easy." His eyes were like liquid fire and he cleared his throat gruffly. "I'm not a machine, despite what people at the office may say and my actions may have led you to believe. I feel—but sometimes it's easier to just put that away instead of dealing with it." He tucked my bangs behind my ear and leaned forward, planting a kiss on my forehead. "When you feel like the world is falling apart all around you, you can always come to me." He held my gaze steady. "You can always come home."
It didn't matter how hard I wiped, the tears wouldn't stop coming. It was almost ironic; all this time all I wanted was for him to see me, for us to really talk, and I was at a complete loss for words.
He flashed me an understanding smile and nodded towards the dining room. "Now that the riffraff is gone, let's enjoy our dinner, shall we? You can tell me all about this Logan Mason, and after I'm done having a chat with Jason, I'll pay him a visit."
Oh dear. "I don't think Jason will be a problem again. You were his last-ditch effort."
I almost went to my usual spot. We sat on complete opposite ends of the table with this uncrossable distance between us. I picked up my plate and glass and put it beside his.
He brought over the utensils and a pitcher of lemonade. "And Logan?"
I fiddled with the utensils, my heart pumping erratically. "That's a little more complicated."
"I know that look," Dad said with a sad chuckle. "You're still in love with him."
I reached for the serving platter, suddenly wanting to stuff my face so I wouldn't have to say that I felt like I was missing a part of myself without him. That even if he went on this holy war with Delilah, I'd forgive him of every sin. I just wanted to be with him.
I spun the noodles around my fork and shoved it in my mouth. There it was. Culinary bliss. Escape.
"Wow, this is delicious!"
He studied me, wise to my timely subject change. "Okay, Melissa."
We ate in silence for a few moments, then we talked about work and movies and news and everything in between.
For the first time in weeks, I smiled like I meant it.
Chapter Seven
Logan
The car pulled to a stop in front of the old Victorian. It had been over a decade now, but it felt like yesterday when I looked out the window with similar apprehension. Back then I was thirteen years old. The system had chewed me up and spit me out more times than I could count. The routine was always the same. The social worker would dump me on some husband and wife that fell somewhere on the spectrum of not giving a damn and barely giving a damn. I wouldn't waste my time acting like we were going to live happily ever after, and I'd get rehomed, like some inconvenient pet on Craigslist. When the social worker pulled up to 3103 Bakers Avenue in Omaha, I'd been prepared for more of the same, but instead, the Brysons surprised me.
I was greeted by Rose Bryson and her husband Johnny, both of them with wiry red-brown hair, bright-colored clothing, and bright smiles with their rainbow colored Victorian. They were older than most of the foster parents I had been foisted on. Rose had these deep lines in her face that went deeper still when she smiled. Their kids were in college, and for the first time ever, I wasn't one of a sea of paychecks. They treated me like family from day one.
I thanked the driver and left the comfort of the car. I pushed through the old iron gate, eyeing the overgrown yard disapprovingly. I moved up the steps, pausing on the last one when I felt a bit of a dip. I started making a list in my mind. Hire a landscaper, find a contractor to fix the stairs-
Rose opened the door before I could even knock. "Logan!"
My name remained the same on her tongue. Something happy. Celebratory. But not even Rose's love could blot out the memory of my birth mother hissing my name like a curse.
She smiled big, holding open both arms. I used to dart away from the show of affection, but with time I returned it, squeezing once before I made my escape. I held her tight this time, a sharp pain squeezing my chest when I realized how small she'd gotten.
I stepped back, eyes narrowing over her. "You're all skin and bones."
She waved away the concern. "I can still eat anybody under the table." She led the way into the house, shuffling her feet across the ancient wood floors.