Page 1 of Embrace

One

Scarlett

I’m going toprison.

Not because I’ve done anything illegal, but because Ifinallyfound him.

It has been exactly seven years and thirty-two days since I last saw Victor Hall, my biological father. I still remember the way his eyes lingered on me as the bailiff dragged him away in handcuffs after my testimony, a memory I’ve tried desperately to erase. And then, out of nowhere, I got the call.

I play the voicemail for the third time since I woke up.

“Hello, this is Risa calling from MCI-Norfolk. We received your request to visit an inmate at this facility. Due to high call and visitation volumes, our system is currently delayed. We are reviewing your request and will contact you as soon as your visit is scheduled. Thank you for your patience—”

“How’s my Rosie girl today?” The voice sneaks up behind me, steady and familiar. Safe.

I quickly slide my phone back into my jacket pocket. A dark, guilty pit twists in my stomach as my dad passes by, brushing agentle kiss on the crown of my head. He’s wearing his royal blue windbreaker,Coachprinted across the back.

Shane Kilner is the best hockey coach Dalton University has ever seen, leading our school to the most Frozen Four and ECAC victories in the country.

But more than that, he’s my dad. Well, stepdad, if we’re talking real titles.

Seven years ago, my mom breathed her first sigh of relief after seeing her husband—my biological dad—behind bars. She spent the next year finding herself again. It helped that Shane had always been there for her. They’d known each other since high school and had reconnected, and it was on their wedding day five years ago that he asked if he could adopt me.

He’s been Dad ever since. I’ve always been his Rosie.

“Alive,” I mutter, still tired from staying up late to organize my dorm. I even set up my mini Christmas tree, complete with ornaments and a star tree topper.

I’m rooming with my best friend and Dalton’s top figure skater, Sierra Romanova. Last year, she got injured during a competition, and her recovery was long and grueling. I took the year away from campus, doing my classes online so I could stay by her side in the hospital.

Now we’re finally back, and not even the grimy communal showers of Iona House can stop us from making this year better than the last.

The back door creaks open, and my mom walks in after her morning run. Dad’s already waiting with her coffee poured, like he somehow knows the exact second she’ll step through the door.

He doesn’t waste a second pulling her into his arms. “I’m all sweaty, Shane!” she complains.

“When have I ever cared?” he murmurs in her ear.

The giggle that bubbles out of her makes a smile stretch on my face. My mom was never a morning person. When I was younger,our mornings were quiet and tense, a rush to get dressed and slip out before Victor woke up and another fight began.

So even though it’s in front of me now, I didn’t grow up with this. I grew up with the hard truth that people who say they love you can also hurt you the most.

“Excited for your first day as a senior,anak?” My mom makes her way over to me, pressing a kiss to my forehead and rubbing her thumbs over my ears before she sits on the stool beside me.

Marielle Dionio-Kilner is a cool mom. She was the prodigal art student at every school she attended, from the Philippines to America, getting interest from magazines and art studios as early as age twelve. Then, at twenty, she met Victor Hall, the wide receiver for their college football team.

That’s the year their lives unraveled. My mom got pregnant with me, Victor ruptured his Achilles tendon just days before the NFL scouting combine. They were dealt pretty shitty cards, but I never felt it, not until she couldn’t hide it from me anymore.

My mom takes a sip of her coffee and, like clockwork, slides her half-eatenpandesaltoward me. I’m already reaching for the plate, anticipating her movements the way I always have.

“Yup. I already started my readings, and I have two major assignments due this month before I can put in more hours at the shelter.” I’m officially a senior, which means this is my last chance. No more switching majors last-minute. No more hiding in hospital rooms to avoid coming back to campus and face the mess I’ve made.

My mom’s expression twists with concern. “You should have fun, too, Scarlett.”

“Your mom’s right. You’ll miss your college days,” my dad adds, sipping his coffee from the mug I got him one Christmas. It readsBest Dad Ever. No DNA Required.

When I slip off my stool to wash my bowl in the sink, they’re both watching me. “I can have fun after I graduate. I’ll get toexplore somewhere that isn’t Connecticut.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I hesitate.

My parents weren’t exactly thrilled when I told them I wanted to leave after graduation. To them, it sounded like running away. To me, it felt like freedom, like finally giving myself an end date to everything here that hurts. Maybe that’s why I went a little wild those first two years of college, chasing distraction wherever I could find it. I don’t regret it, not all of it anyway. But Hartford holds too many ghosts. Every crosswalk, every streetlight has a memory carved into it. Even a trip to Costco feels like walking through the wreckage of what used to be.