Page 120 of Book Club Confidential

“Hey,” she said. “Changing the locks?”

He stepped aside as she climbed the steps, revealing a shiny new touch pad and knob. “The code’s your birthday,” he said. “Dad picked it. He wants you to know you should come and go as you please. You don’t need to ring the bell.”

Her heart swelled as she pulled him into a hug. Devin stiffened a moment, then hugged her back. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “It needed doing, and I could do it, so I did.”

Tessa released him, all but his free hand. She squeezed his fingers and looked him in the eyes. “I’m really proud of what you’ve done and what you’re doing. I hope you know that.”

A blush rose on his cheeks, and he looked away. “It’s just a new lock.”

“Not what I meant, and you know it.”

Devin packed his tool into a little zipper bag and turned. “I’m really sorry for what I’ve put you and Dad through since Mom died. I used her death as an excuse for a long time. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Tessa nodded. “You shouldn’t have,” she agreed. It was the sincerest and most deeply personal thing he’d said to her in years, maybe ever. Maybe he was just completing one of his steps toward sobriety, but something in his eyes said he’d meant every word. “But I forgive you.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he wrapped her in a tight, engulfing hug.

They stood like that for a long moment before he pulled away. Tessa let him decide when it was enough. She’d hold him forever if she thought it would keep him safe. Some big-sister instincts never die.

She went inside to find her dad. She hadn’t expected to resolve anything with Devin today, but she had. Because another aspect of being the heroine of her story might also mean accepting that she can’t be responsible for everything and everyone she loved. Being a heroine to herself meant accepting help.

“Hey, sweetie,” her dad called from his recliner in the living room.

She pushed the disturbing memory of him falling to the kitchen floor from her mind. “Hey, Dad.”

Tessa told him about the event happening that night and all the juicy details he’d missed at the rehearsal. She caught his contagious smile and laughed with him. She held his hand. Then she held her breath. She didn’t want to ruin a perfect moment, especially when she didn’t know how many more she’d have with him, and everything was going so well right now. Wasn’t it selfish to ruin that?

“What’s on your mind, hon?” he asked. “You sound good, but you look worried. What can I do to help?”

She batted away unexpected tears, took a steadying breath, and did the brave thing. “I’m mad at you,” she said.

He laughed, but the smile quickly faded. “Why? What happened?”

Tessa shook her head. “I’m not upset at this moment, but I have been for a long time. Since Alice died, maybe longer.”

His bushy gray brows knit together. He struggled to sit taller in the chair, but she set her hand on his, cueing him to relax if he could. He’d recently had a heart attack, after all.

“Alice was the only mother I’d ever really known. I lost her too. It didn’t hurt me less because my biological mom was still alive somewhere. It hurt plenty because I’d lost another woman in my life. I needed her. And I needed you, but you were grieving, and I understood that. But you only helped Devin through her loss. I didn’t understand why, and it hurt. I thought that maybe because I was older, I needed to help you instead of adding to your problems, so I did everything I could to make your life and Devin’s life easier.” A wedge formed in her throat, and she paused to wipe tears from her cheeks. “I needed you, but you only comforted him.”

“Oh, Tess.” He turned her hand in his and held it tight.

“It was always me and you,” she said, on a roll now. “Me and you when Mom was drunk or missing. Me and you in all the years before Alice and Devin. When she died, it was suddenly you and Devin. I felt cast aside. I was lonely and worried about the both of you. And I was grieving, too, Dad.”

“I focused on Devin because his pain was like a house on fire,” he said, voice cracking. “He needed my help but wouldn’t take it, and he spiraled.”

“I know.” She’d been there, too, though no one had seemed to see her. She’d spent her senior year of high school terrified her brother would follow Alice into the afterlife. An overdose. A car accident. An unnamed act of recklessness. Her dad wouldn’t have recovered from that loss. She’d barely slept for months before college.

Her Dad rubbed his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize I was doing that. You just seemed so calm and together.”

“I had to be,” she cried. “I had to be because you weren’t.”

“Oh, baby girl.” He reached for her, tugging at her sleeves and shoulder, until she leaned over him for a hug. “I was lost. I didn’t see it. I was trying to put out the fire.”

“You did the best you could,” she said. “I’m old enough now to understand your position better, but it still hurts.”

He released her with agony in his eyes. “You needed me, and I wasn’t there for you. All I’ve ever wanted was to be the father you needed.”