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The man was an absolute saint, and no one would ever be able to tell me otherwise. Sure, we got on each other’s nerves, same as any other couple on the face of the planet, but the assurance of loyalty and love in actions and words offered us both a place of rest.
Home.
If given the chance to relive our time together, I would choose him all over again. From the first moment I’d set eyes on the man, I knew things would be different with him compared to my other hookups. I’d somehow recognized that my life would forever change.
And yeah…what Dad had said.
Waking from bad dreams to find Jarod cradling me in his arms, the heat of muscle and living flesh against mine, soothed me. My breaths weren’t hindered, and my heart rate slowed to its usual cadence. Falling asleep once more came easier than it probably did for those without someone to hold them whenever PTSD raised its ugly head.
“I’ll never be able to run a marathon,” I told Dad.
He snorted with laughter. “As if you ever would anyway!”
I snickered. I wouldn’t ever be a gym rat either, but I’d never been interested in fitness like Jarod was.
“I have a date Friday night.”
“Huh?” I asked, sure I hadn’t heard Dad right.
“I. Have. A. Date.”
“Get the fuck out!” I hollered and sat up from where I’d slouched on the couch.
“What’s wrong?” Jarod shouted from where he made us sandwiches in my kitchen.
“Dad’s gonna get some!” I yelled back, giggling.
“Christine.” I could hear the red flushing my dad’s cheeks as he chided me over the phone.
“What?” I asked, still laughing. “It’s about damn time.”
“You wouldn’t have said that a few months ago.”
My jollity faded slightly. Had I not found the love of my life, I wouldn’t have been as excited for Dad.
“You deserve to be spoiled again, Dad,” I told him.
“It’s just a date,” he stated quietly.
“How long have you known her? Who is she? Anyone I’ve met?”
“Um…”
Another grin rocketed to my lips. “I do! Who is it, Dad? Come on…tell me! I’m dying over here!”
Jarod rounded the couch, and I glanced up, beaming at the man I loved more than anything on the planet, my dad included. He set a BLT and chips on the coffee table in front of me before joining me on the couch, his own lunch in hand.
“It’s Auntie Sophie’s sister. Loretta.”
Loretta—I remembered how their hug had lingered and the soft smile on Dad’s face as he’d held her.
“You look good together,” I stated, seeing the memory clear in my mind and recognizing that fact.
“I’m hopeful, sweetheart.”
My eyes welled at Dad’s whisper. More than anything, I wanted him to experience the joy I did. A second chance at finding love for him but the potential to share in something just as beautiful as what he’d had with Mom.
“Me too, Dad.”