Page 46 of Worth the Fall

Father logic is not what I need right now, and yet, I find myself needing to talk through everything.

“She kissed me.”

It’s his turn to chuckle. “And that’s a problem, why?”

I push up from the step and walk back and forth on the sidewalk before shoving a hand through my hair. “Because . . . because I don’t know how to handle it.”

“You’ve never had trouble handling a woman kissing you before if I recall correctly.”

“But this is different.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s her, and it’s . . . everything she’s been through and . . .”

“How do you know what she’s been through? Has she told you? Has she talked about it with you?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because I was the one who told Mrs. Gellar, Dad. I’m the one who turned her life upside down.”

“You mean that you’re the one who saved her.” His voice is even but serious, and it stops me in my tracks. I stare at him with hands at my side and every part of me confused about one goddamn kiss amidst a million other kisses I’ve had.

“She saved herself, Dad.”

“Good. I’m glad you know that. Because you’re right. She did. But let me ask you this, son, if she hasn’t said a word to you about what happened before, why does it bug you? How do you know it bugs her?”

“How can it not?” I raise my voice without meaning to. It’s just that this is like talking to a brick wall instead of talking to the one person who should be able to give me insight on how to handle this.

“If you met her on the street, you would have no idea about what she’s been through. So, if she doesn’t tell you, then that’s how you have to treat her.”

I look at the moon above and shake my head. “Easier said than done.”

“It is, but it’s her past, Grant. Sometimes you have to accept the other’s history and just leave it there—as the past. It isn’t fair if you use it against her when she’s never even brought it into the equation.”

“I would never hold it against her.”

“Aren’t you already, though?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t be out here stressing about Em if you didn’t know her history . . . so that in and of itself says you’re already using it against her.”

I reject the idea immediately, but the longer he just sits there quietly and stares at me the more his reasoning makes sense.

“You’re right.” I walk to the end of the pathway and then walk back before throwing my hands out. “Never mind. This is just my crazy talking. A few drinks and a kiss should not amount to me stressing this much about a woman.”

He gives a non-committal noise.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he says cool as can be.

He thinks I’m wrong. I take a sip of my beer but refuse to acknowledge he’s right.

Because I am wrong. This is Emerson we’re talking about. Of course, I’m going to think harder and be more careful with her.