Page 39 of A Love That Saved Us

“What’s on your mind? I can tell you want to say something.”

“Oh…” He sighs, folding his hands. “Just thinking about how lucky we are.”

I pause mid-dry, raising an eyebrow. “Dad. Come on. Spit it out.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes turning misty. He swallows. “I’m just…” His gaze finds mine. “I’m really proud of you.”

Damn. A fresh sting burns behind my eyes.

Setting the pan down, I grip the counter and take a deep breath through my now runny nose. The tears fall freely as I choke out, “Thanks, Dad.”

He offers a small smile. “It’s hard. What you’re doing. It takes a lot of strength to walk away from someone you care about. Someone you love.” His voice is steady, strong, even as the emotion lingers in his expression.

My next breath is shaky, my chest and shoulders trembling. I nod, too overwhelmed to respond.

His gaze drops to his hands. “You know, you remind me so much of her,” he says quietly. He blinks rapidly, his eyes locking on mine. “Your mother.”

With that, everything spills out—messy and free. The past fifteen years of missing my mom. The twelve I wasted hiding from my dad. The ache of the last four months missing Jensen. The guilt—for leaving him, for giving up. The overwhelming sadness that sits in my chest every single day when I think about everything I’ve lost. Everything I let go of.

It’s not just my marriage.

It’s losing my best friend. My person. The job I left, the friends I never see, the future I thought was mine. The kids we’ll never have. The names I’d picked out, and what they might’ve looked like.

God, it’s so heavy.

“But she was stronger than I was,” I whisper. “She stayed when things got hard. When you went off on your benders. She stayed.”

He lets out a sound—part laugh, part something else. “Oh, Alley girl… I think that made her weaker.” He shakes his head slowly. “She should have left. Long before she got sick. You all would’ve been better off if she had.”

My brows pull together, scowling. “That’s not true.”

But deep down, I wonder if he’s right. “Maybe it would’ve been better for us then.” A small smile tugs at my lips as I blink through the tears. “But where would I be without you now?” I whisper. “And where would you be if she had left?”

“Nah. You’d be fine without me. You’ve always been strong. Independent.”

“But what about you?” I ask again.

“The truth?”

“Of course,” I say without hesitation.

He lets out a long breath, eyes distant. “No telling where I’d be. Probably lost at the bottom of a bottle. Barely breathing. That’s the truth of it.”

His words hit me like a freight train. I immediately think of Jensen—how Matt said he spiraled worse than ever after I left. How that still feels like my fault, even though I know it’s not.

My dad interrupts my thoughts. “Or maybe I would’ve gotten sober and stayed that way.” He smiles softly. “Hard to know what losing your family might do to a man. I’m sure I’d have gotten worse before I got better, that’s for certain. But I like to think, eventually, I’d have ended up right here. Sober. Happy. With my family again.”

He clears his throat. “I was a lost cause for a long time. Whether you were there or not, I had to hit rock bottom on my own. I had to lose everything, then claw my way out of the hell I’d created to find the light again.”

He lets out a heavy exhale. “Either way, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. And you are too. Doesn’t matter which road we take. One might be rougher—more lessons, more bruises—butyou come out smarter, stronger. I think we end up where we’re meant to. Fate always finds you.”

I smile as his words settle in.

We had a scare with Dad a few months ago, the same night I left Jensen. He ended up in the hospital with liver issues—his ammonia levels were high, and his liver enzymes were through the roof. The doctors said they caught it early, but he’s still at risk for complications.

Ever since, he’s been different. More open. Nostalgic. Sentimental.

“I guess I’ve never really thought of it that way,” I say somberly. “I used to believe everything happened for a reason… until Mom died.” I pick up another pan to dry, needing the distraction. “I can’t find a reason for that. And now Jensen?” I shake my head. “I can’t find a purpose for that either. Except maybe the universe just really hates me.”