The Road Trip

• Sixteen •

My dad and I were lying back, watching a movie in the two recliners in our living room, me covered in a fuzzy blanket, him complaining that it was too hot with the thermostat set to seventy-three. He'd gotten used to not having a female around.

He paused the movie and turned his neck to look at me. His voice cracked. "Your mom would be proud of you."

"Dad, don't make me cry again."

He chuckled, starting to regain composure. "Seriously. Who you are, everything you've accomplished. And I'm proud of you too."

"I know," I whispered. "Thank you."

His eyes filled with tears, but he was able to blink them back. "I regret having to put you in such a hard position so young. I wish I could go back and do things differently. You shouldn't have had to grow up so fast."

"I wouldn't want you take it back even if you could, okay?" I held my hand out to him, and he took it with a nod.

The light from the television caught his tears, and I was sure mine too, but I felt nothing but peace.

I didn't think anything else needed to be said except, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you more, Reese." He squeezed my hand and pressed play. One word came out of the speakers before my dad pressed pause again. "Speaking of love..."

I rolled my teary eyes at him. "You know, we don't have to talk about it."

"I think that depends on how much you don't hate him."

"I... don't hate him." And I actually wasn't pretending.

My dad nodded all-knowingly. "And you're here and he's there, why?"

"There's nothing there for me," I said. "I don't want to relive high school."

"What about new memories?"

I shook my head. "They wouldn't work."

"You're firmly in the not-trying camp?" he asked.

"Well... yeah," I reasoned. "Colin and Emelia with an E aren't going to make it."

"This isn't about them," my dad smirked. "But if you want to go down that road, then should I have never tried with Mom?"

"That isn't the same thing," I insisted.

"I regret a lot of things, Reese," he started. "I regret not having enough life insurance to cover our expenses, I regret having to work so much, I regret putting so much responsibility on you at such a young age. It wasn't fair to you. And although you did an incredible job and Colin is better off because of you, I feel like I took something from you. But one thing I will never regret is your mom. I hope I can find an ounce of what I felt for her again with someone new one day. And I won't be able to find it unless I try. And try again. And probably try a few more times."

My chest felt heavy. I tried to breathe, but my lungs had filled with cement. No words would come out of my mouth when I tried to speak.

My dad continued, "You'll never find that if you don't choose to be vulnerable, Reese."

My phone dinged in my lap, and my dad raised his eyebrows. There was no way Colin was texting me. Paige. It had to be Paige. "I'm sure it's Paige," I choked out.

My dad smiled. "I've said it all." He nodded toward my lap, turned away, and pressed play.

It wasn't Paige.

I steadied my hand. I probably left my toothbrush in his car or something.

When I clicked on my messages, a picture of me and Luke from Chicago filled the screen—a reflection in stainless steel. He must have secretly taken it when we were lying on the ground under The Bean. Our faces were close, noses almost touching, as we looked at each other. His phone was laying on his stomach, his finger secretly taking a picture, and I was smiling my real smile.