Page 56 of His for the Holiday

I chuckled, passing her to go to the kitchen while she hung up her coat and scarf. “Sure, but I’ll make the coffee. What do you want to⁠—”

Dad was already in the kitchen when I got there, and seeing the state he was in made me forget what I’d even been saying. Completely frozen as he clutched the counter, he seemed dazed and confused, swaying but not moving a muscle.

“Dad?” I raced over to help him. When I felt how rigid his body was when I put my hands on his arm and back, my extremities went cold. “Dad? Are you okay? Can you walk?”

A tremor passed through him, but then Emery was there, tears in her eyes. “Call the doctor, Hawk. We need to get him over there. The number is stuck to the phone. I’ve got this.”

I pulled in a shaky breath and jogged over to the landline, then called the doctor’s office and quickly explained the situation. The receptionist was kind and understanding, thankfully, telling me to bring him right in.

Reeling, I raced back to the kitchen. Emery had managed to get Dad to the breakfast nook and was giving him sips of water. I looked at her. “We can go now.”

“I’m not going to that doctor,” Dad said, his voice rough and a little hoarse. “I need to get to the office.”

I shook my head. “That’s not going to happen today, Dad. Emery will go to the office and I’m taking you to the doctor.”

My sister’s brow puckered as her eyebrows rose, her gaze questioning on mine. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” It was about time I got involved with my dad’s care. I knew he was more comfortable having Emery take him, but that was only because she was always the one to do it. If I really wanted to pitch in with him, then I needed to start with his medical visits. “I’ve got this.”

“Sure, because I’m not going,” Dad said stubbornly, glowering at me. “That’s final, Hawk. I’m your father. You can’t make me⁠—”

“I can and I am,” I said, looking him right in the eyes. “You’re going to the doctor, even if I have to carry you to the truck. What’s it going to be, old man? Am I carrying you or are you walking?”

Finally, he relented and got up, making his way to the car with my help. The doctor’s visit didn’t go well. Dad was in a horrible mood, refusing to do any testing or try any new medications to aid his worsening symptoms.

“None of it works anyway,” he spat at me as we climbed back into the truck. “I’m dying. Almost to stage three. You heard him in there. It’s all downhill from here.”

“What I heard him say is that you’re still stage two, and sure, it’s progressing toward stage three, but it’ll take years to get there.”

After helping him into the passenger seat, I shut the door and went to the driver’s side, still struggling to process how helpless he’d been when I’d found him in the kitchen. My teeth gnashed together and I dragged in a few deep breaths, knowing that I needed to keep calm for his sake.

As I drove us back to Portsmouth, Dad stared out the window, his face pale and the wrinkles etched into it seeming so much deeper than they had just yesterday. From the research I’d done, lying in my bed at night and reading up about his disease, I knew he was probably struggling with his own mortality.

Hearing that the disease was progressing had been scary as fuck even for me, and I wasn’t even the one who had it. I glanced at my father, taking in his slack-jawed expression and the haunted hollowness of his eyes, and pain seared through me.

This was real. It was happening, and we needed to have that talk. I needed him to know that he could stop worrying.

“You can retire now, Dad. I’m going to stay for a while. Your business will be just fine. I’ll merge it with Gold Star and⁠—”

“I’m not retiring,” he snapped without turning to look at me. “I should be out at the port. I should be on the boats. I should⁠—”

“You shouldn’t be worrying about any of that right now,” I said as gently as I could. “I don’t want to fight with you, Dad. You’ve worked damn hard your entire life and I should’ve come home earlier. I accept that, but I’m here now and you and Emery won’t have to worry anymore. You can retire and⁠—”

“Pull over,” he insisted suddenly, his voice firm and angry. “Pull over the fucking truck, Hawk.”

Slowing, I pulled over on the shoulder and frowned at him, wondering what was going on. The doctor had mentioned nausea, but Dad didn’t look sick to me right now. He looked pissed.

As soon as the truck rolled to a complete stop, he threw open his door and climbed out. He paced up and down the grass at the side of the road. I watched him for a moment, just marching this way and that. His hands constantly tore through his hair as he muttered under his breath and stomped around.

Eventually, I followed him out, leaning against the hood of the truck and folding my arms. I arched an eyebrow at him. “What’s the problem? You don’t think you deserve to retire? To take it slow and spend some time with the boys and your friends while you get healthy?”

At first, he didn’t say anything. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

I let out a soft sigh. “Talk to me, Dad. What’s going on?”

“It was awful when your mom was sick,” he finally ground out, the fight draining out of him. He stopped pacing and brought his gaze up to mine. “I had to watch the love of my life suffer and die, and I don’t want you kids to have to watch me waste away. I don’t want the boys to see it either.”

A deep, sharp ache took over my chest. “Dad, it could be years before⁠—”

“You’re better off going back to California and taking Emery and the boys with you,” he said, his voice ragged and tired, those eyes swimming with pain as they held mine. “Take them with you, Hawk. You have a big house over there, right? Get them into a good school and tell them all not to worry about me.”

“Nope.” I pushed off the truck and strode to a bench off a bike trail overlooking the water.

Dad came to sit down beside me. Exhaling, he shook his head at me. “Nope? What do you mean ‘nope’? You have enough money to⁠—”

“It’s not about the money, Dad,” I said softly. “I’m staying right here and so are Emery and the boys. I’ve already put my plan in motion for Gold Star.”

In the distance, I watched as a tugboat belonging to Meecham pulled a barge in the port. I blew out a heavy breath, hating that fucking mustard yellow on the hull. “Soon enough, the port will be back in the hands of the townspeople, where it belongs, and I’m going to be here to make it happen and to make sure it stays that way.”

Dad finally turned, his own gaze hardening as he looked at the tug. “It’s already in motion?”

I nodded. Despite having to wait for Emery’s answer regarding my dad’s business, I’d taken some other steps to get the ball rolling.

She and Dad would never hurt for money again. The port would be returned to its rightful owners, and hopefully, I would get to be with Sutton. Most importantly, I wasn’t ready to lose my dad.

That was the one thing I couldn’t fix or change, and I hated it, but there was no way I was running from it anymore. Emery, my nephews, and I would be here for him until the last, and when he went, he would know that his family and his legacy were safe and going strong.

It didn’t seem like much, but it was the best I could offer in terms of giving him peace of mind.