Page 71 of Grouch-ish

Hanging my head once more, I say quietly, “I didn’t intend to trick you.”

“Trick me?” Brock barks. “You made me fall—” A dark glare accompanies his abrupt stop. The silence that follows his unfinished sentence weighs as heavy as snow clouds around all of us.

“No one makes us do anything,” With his hands on his hips, holding his disappointment momentarily at bay, Dad’s advice is ill-timed. He means well but he needs to read the stormy room.

Brock turns on him. “Yeah, that’s not what happened here. I thought I had to stay.”

“You were late,” Dad reminds him, his tone sharpening at the edge in Brock’s voice. “You were free to go. In fact, you’re now free from the department.”

I step closer to my father again, hand up in defense. “Dad. No.”

Without a glance back at Brock, I feel the energy leave his body. His retorts. His defense. His fight. All gone. His anger is the only thing palpable in the room, swirling around me like yesterday’s blizzard. A different kind of snowstorm, complete with frigid air and relentless emotions, seeps into my bones along with a bitter frost that numbs my flesh.

“Dad. Please.” I beg, finally reaching him and forcing him to focus his upset on me.

“This is on me. I did this. I kept him here.”

Dad stares at me, long and hard, and hurt. Behind me, I sense Brock shift, the damage to him done. He exits the room.

I squeeze my dad’s shoulder before releasing him, clutching at my blanket dress again. “Dad,” I whisper, uncertain how to plead Brock’s case.

Dad’s gaze momentarily drops to my attire before looking away, purposely keeping his eyes off me. “Are you trying to tell me you seduced that man?” His tone rings incredulous.

Now, I’m pissed. At Dad. At the situation. At myself for the sudden doubts his question raises.

“Why would that be so hard to believe?” Because I’m not thin and tiny. Because I’ve been divorced and devastated. Or rather, deceived. Because I’m a woman, I can’t be a seductress.

“I just . . .” Dad swallows thickly. “You’re not like that.”

“Like what, Dad? Sexy? Smart? Knowing what I want and going after it.” I sigh, and step back, giving myself distance from the one man I thought would love me in any form. “I didn’t have the intention to fall for Brock. I didn’t set out to seduce him.”

I hiss the words like the concept is something inconceivable, when it’s actually been empowering. Maybe I unknowingly seduced him. Maybe I wanted him to be attracted to me, and he was. Maybe I’m a grown-ass woman and can own my sexuality however I see fit.

Not that I want to discuss my sexual escapades with my father, but I want him to understand I’m a woman. A woman with a brain and a body. A heart and desires. I deserve what I want. Maybe not by deceptive measures, of course, but I can still crave things and earn them.

“Fall for him?” Dad chokes.

“And why would that be so hard to believe?” I glare at my father, seeking his eyes. “You said yourself Brock is a good man with a big heart. You’ve given him chance after chance because you see something in him. Maybe you don’t like his temper or his reactive behavior, but you also know he’s been through a lot.”

Dad mirrors my glare, surprised that I know a thing or two about Brock.

His divorce. His empty nest. His guilt over the loss of a fellow fireman.

Dad didn’t get divorced, but he lost his wife. He lost his girls. One to death; one to a move. He’s lost people beneath his command. Surely, he understands.

“And what about you, Pear? You’ve been through enough, too.” He means Mom and Precious. Even Reggie.

“And I’m working on myself.” I sigh. “And isn’t that what you always taught me. Own up to mistakes. That’s what your restorative sessions are about.” And I’ve owned up to mine. Reggie being the biggest one, but not Brock.

“I feel like I don’t know who you are right now.”

“I have so much to tell you,” I admit. But maybe after a shower. At the very least, I need to get dressed before I confess everything to my dad. Most of all, I want to talk to Brock. Still, I say, “But know this for now. I’m me, Dad. More me than I’ve felt in a long, long time.” I swallow around a growing thickness in my throat. “I’m whole again.”

Meeting my dad’s concerned eyes, I add, “And Brock just wants to get there as well.” I exhale. “Please don’t take the department from him.”

Dad’s shoulders fall and he lowers his head a second before it pops up and he stares over my shoulder.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. How long has Brock been standing there?