Page 141 of Good For Me

I snort, surprised I can even get close to laughing right now.

“Seriously though,” Dad says, his voice lower. “I went through that shit, too. I never worried that I would be like my mom but Dad wasn’t always the easiest.” I look up at him. “He was way better by the time you guys came around, but when I was growing up, he pushed us. Hard. He could be distant as hell. Way too demanding.” Dad eyes me. “I think in some ways, I probably went too far in the other direction with you. Maybe I should have pushed you some more.”

“Dad—”

“Not because I’m not proud of how you turned out,” he interrupts, holding up a hand. “But because I worry you’re not proud of yourself.”

That shuts me up.

“Maybe you’re right,” I finally mutter.

“It’s hard.” Dad sounds remorseful now. “Being a parent. You’re going to do shit you regret. You’re going to make mistakes. It’s inevitable. There will always be things you wish you’d done differently.”

“But what if she doesn’t want to do it at all?” I ask, panic rising in my chest. “What if she walks away?”

“Then you will have to make a really hard choice,” Dad says softly. “Your decision doesn’t have to be the same as hers, Riv. You deciding to be this baby’s father is entirely up to you.”

I think about what it would be like to do this without Jas and feel sick. Not about the baby, though. I might not know what the hell I’m doing, but I’d have plenty of help. And I already love him more than I ever could have imagined.

It’s Jas I feel sick for. Because I know her, I know the capacity she has to love and care for someone. I know how dedicated and loyal she is. And I know if she walks away, she’ll regret it for the rest of her life.

“I’m already the baby’s father,” I say. “That’s not in question.”

Dad nods. “Then all you can do is hope and pray she feels the same way.”

“She does,” I say with certainty. “I know she does.”

“So you have to have faith she’ll get there. Maybe this was just one bad day.”

Was it just one bad day though? She’d been feeling distant for a while now. She didn’t tell me about her uncle’s bar. Didn’t call when her car broke down. And she got so upset at Thanksgiving.

“Something else happened,” I say suddenly. “She was upset before this. Her mom just pushed it over the top.”

“How long has she been off?” he asks.

“Thanksgiving,” I say, thinking of how pale she’d been when she asked to leave. I’d been watching her across the patio while she talked with Mom and Paige and Rose and I could see her getting overwhelmed. I don’t know why, though.

“Do you know what the girls were talking about after pie?” I ask. “That’s when she got weird.”

It takes a minute to realize my dad has gone still next to me. I turn to him and see guilt written on his face. “What happened?” I demand.

“I don’t have any reason to think she heard us,” he says quickly, and anger starts to pound in my veins.

“Heard what?”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Your uncles and I went inside for a drink before dessert. Reed…”

“Reedwhat?”

“He was trying to convince me to talk to you. He thinks you need a paternity test. And a written agreement about child support—”

I stand so quickly the chair falls over behind me. “What the fuck?”

“You know Reed,” Dad says, standing with me and putting a hand on my shoulder. “He’s protective as hell.”

“Did you agree with him?” I growl, knocking his hand away.

“No,” he says firmly. “I told him to stop being an overbearing asshole, actually.” He winces. “But if she happened to hear any of that…”