Page 30 of Forever Full Circle
At first, it was just the tremors, then the sudden drop of his chin, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. The tears followed almost instantly, shocking in their abundance, wetting the lines of his cheeks and dripping off the end of his nose. He didn’t make a sound again, but the movement shook his whole frame.
“Hey,” Emily whispered, pushing out of her chair before she knew she’d moved. She knelt on the thin rug beside him, the fabric scratchy against her bare knees, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He stiffened, just for a second, then gave way, burying his face in the hollow of her neck.
His shirt was soft, worn thin at the collar, but still held the musk of him. Roy’s arms came up around her, one hand gripping her forearm, the other splayed at her back. She felt every shake, every shallow gasp as he tried to steady himself.
She rocked them both, gently, the way she used to when Chantelle skinned her knee and tried to be brave about it. Roy made no effort to hide the tears now. His body shook harder, the grief ragged. Emily pressed her cheek to the side of his head, hair brushing her face, and just let him fall apart.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice thick with mucus. “I didn’t want you to see this.”
“Don’t,”Emily said, and the word came out fierce, not gentle. “Don’t you dare.”
He laughed, a wet, bark of a sound, then let the rest come. She stroked his hair and felt the fine strands course against her palm. For a few minutes, that was all there was: the two of them on the rug, a child comforting a parent.
When he managed to speak again, his voice was hoarse but steadier. “You know, when I left—when your sister died—Ithought I’d ruined you. All of you. I thought it was better if I was just… not around.”
Emily closed her eyes, the words a dull ache behind her ribs. “You came back.”
“I didn’t deserve to.”
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Roy’s grip on her arm tightened, his hand cold, but alive.
“I got to see you as a grown up,” he said, voice catching. “I got to see your girls. That’s more than I earned. All this—” He gestured with his free hand, as if to take in the inn, the Carriage House, the whole sprawl of their lives. “Every day is borrowed.”
Emily felt her own tears now, hot and silent. She let them come, not bothering to hide her face.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “Even when I don’t say it.”
“I know, Dad.”
At last, he leaned back, using her shoulders as leverage, and wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. His eyes were bloodshot but clear.
“You okay?” Emily asked, voice shaky but light.
Roy managed a crooked smile. “Been better. Been worse.”
She smiled, too, the tears already drying on her cheeks. She let herself sink back onto her heels, hand still clutching his, both of them unwilling to break the contact just yet.
Roy cleared his throat, gentle this time, and squeezed her hand. “Promise me something, Em,” he said.
She tilted her head, waiting.
“When it’s time,” he said, picking each word like a pebble from a pile, “don’t make it into a tragedy. I’ve had more joy these last few years than I ever deserved, and I mean it. I don’t want everyone walking around in black and talking about what could’ve been. Just throw a party. Drink the good stuff, let everyone tell every story, even the ones I’d rather stay buried.”His eyes flashed with that old, dangerous humor, and Emily nearly laughed.
But the request was not a joke.
“I don’t want anyone—especially you—feeling like you have to fix what I broke,” Roy continued. “You already did that. All of it.”
Emily felt her throat close, the old fear rising—of loss, of being left again. Her eyes stung, but she held his gaze, refusing to blink.
“Promise?” he said, soft.
She nodded, unable to find her voice. She hadn’t expected his fear, his honesty. But like Patricia’s openness, Emily welcomed it. It meant they were all still trying.
Outside, the last of the sun slipped behind the roofline, and the little living room grew dim. Neither of them made a move to turn on the light. The clock ticked on, each second absolute, and for once, she wasn’t counting how much time they had left.
She was just glad to be there, with him, in the soft closing of the day.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
