Page 42 of If Love Had A Manual (Skeptically In Love #2)

Lena

T he drive to the assisted living facility is quiet, the kind of silence that feels heavy on my skin. My mind is already in overdrive, replaying every time Tess has run away, every fight, every misunderstanding, and I hate it.

Wes grips the wheel with one hand, his knuckles faintly white, but he doesn’t press me for details. Not yet. I’m grateful for that because I don’t have the bandwidth to explain everything while my head is busy spiraling with worry.

He pulls up outside the building, and as soon as he shifts into park, I catch the flicker of uncertainty in his expression. “You think she’s here?”

I nod, stomach twisting. “She wasn’t at my apartment, and my grandpa was always my safe place when things got too intense at home. If she needed to get away, this is where she would go.”

Wes’s gaze lingers on my face, his brows drawn. “Is your dad the same with her as he was with you?”

A humorless laugh escapes me. “No, not really. He’s always been gentler with them…

with my younger siblings, especially Tess.

I’m sure it’s still not easy with her being the only one at home now.

She’s a little rebellious.” My voice tightens.

“Maybe it’s getting to her. Losing Mom, then me leaving last year,” I trail off, blinking hard against the sting behind my eyes.

Don’t cry, Lena. Not now.

Wes notices. Of course he does.

He presses his mouth into a firm line, then hooks a finger under my chin, turning my head so I have to look at him.

His touch is grounding and chases away the worst of my anxieties.

But it’s also confusing because part of me recalls the taste of his lips last night, how his hands roamed my body, and now he’s giving me comfort that I never quite got from anyone else.

“She doesn’t remember Mom,” I murmur, clearing the lump in my throat. “Tess was just a baby when she died. When I left, it felt like I abandoned her, too. I should’ve stayed.”

“Lena,” Wes says quietly, shaking his head. “From what I’ve heard, you took care of everyone for a long time. It’s okay to put yourself first.”

I want to believe him, but the weight of old resentments and regrets churns in my gut.

Guilt is a stubborn bastard.

“Look,” I say, forcing a breath, “can you come in with me? I know it’s my thing, but I’d like you there.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Rosie’s still awake anyway.”

I ignore everything and everyone on the way in. Keeping my head down, I head straight for Grandpa’s room with Wes and Rosie at my side.

My stomach unclenches when I push open the door. Grandpa is perched on his bed with his newspaper sprawled around him.

On the edge of the bed, looking utterly untroubled, is my little sister. No tearstains, no sign she’s been hysterical or upset . My relief quickly mingles with frustration.

Grandpa’s grin broadens as soon as he sees me. “Told you she’d be here,” he tells Tess with a knowing wink. “Took you long enough, kid.”

Tess breaks into a bright smile that I know is as much defiance as it is happiness to see me. She jumps up, arms wide, and I can’t resist rushing forward to pull her into a hug. For a second, everything’s okay. She’s safe, she’s here. But then I remember why she’s here, and anger flares.

“Are you kidding me?” I pull back, giving her a pointed look. “You ran away because Dad wouldn’t let you stay at Sophie’s?”

She stiffens, crossing her arms with an eye roll. “It’s stupid when you say it like that.”

“It is stupid, Tess. You had me worried sick. I thought—” My voice wobbles, but I catch it. “I thought something bad happened.”

Her mouth twists. “Something did happen. He’s a controlling jerk who never lets me do anything.”

“You’re fourteen,” I snap, exasperated. “You can’t just do whatever you want.”

My anger merges with deep-seated guilt. I was her once—the rebellious teen who wanted out.

Before I can say more, Grandpa interjects with his usual smirk. “Hey now, don’t go too hard on her.”

I turn my glare on him, pointing my finger. “You knew she was here, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

He winks, as if this is all very amusing. “I had faith you’d figure it out.”

“Grandpa,” I start, but Rosie squeals just then, wriggling against Wes’s chest.

“My best friend returns,” he declares, opening his arms. Wes carefully transfers her over. He doesn’t have much of a choice. She’s practically jumping out of his arms.

The second Rosie settles in Grandpa’s hold, she babbles something. We all freeze when we hear it.

“P-P-Po-Pop.”

Pop?

Grandpa glances up, delight written all over his face. “Ah, she’s talking.”

“Hey, Rosie,” I say, slightly offended. “Remember me? Lena? It’s not that difficult.” I’ve been trying to get her to say it all morning, but all she did was stare at me like I was stupid. “Leeeee-naaaaa.” I sound out.

I swear she just gave me a side-eye.

“Don’t rush her,” Grandpa tells me. “Told you she’d get there in her own time.”

Wes throws me a confused look.

Yeah, I talk about her all the time.

A proud smile curls on the corner of his mouth. If it’s pride for me or Rosie, I’m not sure, but now is not the time.

“Guess we’re tight enough to get nicknames,” Grandpa jokes.

Wes shifts on his feet. “I didn’t realize you two got so close.”

Grandpa lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “We both love the Jell-O here,” he says, bouncing Rosie gently with his good side.

The momentary warmth fizzles when I look at Tess again. Right, we still have a conversation to finish. No matter how cute Rosie is, no matter how relieved I am that Tess is safe, we have to figure out why she’s here without giving my father a heads-up, and how to stop it from happening again.

Wes clears his throat, offering Grandpa a handshake. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Frank,” he corrects, waving a dismissive hand. Then, with a sly edge, “Have a seat, Turner. I want a quick chat with you while the ladies sort themselves out.”

Oh God.

“Grandpa?”

“Don’t Grandpa me, baby girl. I’m only going to scare him a little.”

I don’t have the energy for this, so I turn my gaze to Wes. “You’re on your own.”

He flashes me a reassuring wink, and I melt all the way to my feet. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Wordless, I catch Tess’s eye and jerk my head toward the door.

By the time we get outside and into the parking lot, she’s bristling again. “Go ahead. Yell at me.”

This fucking attitude is giving me crow’s feet.

“God, Tess. Why? Why do you keep running away from little fights? Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

She sets her jaw. “It’s not just a little fight. He’s controlling. He never listens.” She stops, glancing away as tears threaten to spill. “I expected you, of all people, to understand. You hated it at home, too.”

My chest aches because she’s not wrong.

“You’re fourteen. Dad is protective. Maybe too protective. I get it, but that doesn’t mean you can vanish anytime you’re pissed.”

She huffs, turning away like she might stomp off again, but I catch her wrist. “No. We’re not done. Dad’s frantic. He’s worried sick. You owe him a phone call.”

She’s got my father’s eyes, that’s for sure. That glare she’s casting my way is all him.

I watch as she chews the inside of her cheek, obviously battling with what she really wants to say. No doubt, it won’t be pleasant.

I nudge the phone towards her, eyes wide.

Then, in a burst of anger, she snaps, “Fuck off, Lena.”

Wow.

And ouch.

Her words slice deep enough to cause my hands to twitch at my sides. She’s never sworn at me like that.

Deciding to swallow down the hurt, I keep my voice steady. “Excuse me?”

“You left, remember?” Her eyes glisten as the teenage bravado cracks. “So don’t act like you care.”

“I do care. I always have. Just because I moved out, it doesn’t mean I left you.”

“It’s the same to me.”

“Tess—”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Lena. I’m fourteen. I’m not a kid.”

“But you are a kid,” I fight back.

I used to hate it when people said that to me. Like the words were meant to be comforting, some permission to be soft, to make mistakes, to not carry the weight of the world. But me at fourteen is not the same as Tess.

At fourteen, my days didn’t revolve around homework and sleepovers and asking to stay out past curfew. I was grieving a mother I still needed, raising three younger siblings who needed me more, while my father worked himself into the ground just to avoid feeling anything at all.

Just to avoid looking at me.

Not them. Me.

To my siblings, he was still Dad. Worn around the edges, but present enough to pass for love.

To me, he became something else entirely. A ghost with a pulse. A man who used to give the best bear hugs, but suddenly, couldn’t even meet my eyes after the funeral because mine were hers. He couldn’t see me without seeing her.

So instead of hugs, I got silence. Instead of comfort, I got distance.

Tess has lived her life bubble-wrapped. I lived mine buried under the weight of a house that no one else knew how to hold up.

“You can’t keep doing this. You can’t run from every disagreement. You want to be treated like an adult? Act like one.”

“Fine. Then let me live with you.” The rawness in her voice tells me she’s completely serious.

“I can’t do that. You belong with Dad. Your entire life is there, your friends, your school. You really want to leave all that?”

That gives her pause, and the fight drains out of her in a wave of exhaustion. She looks younger all of a sudden, more like a scared child than a rebellious teen.

“Whatever.”

I hold out my phone once more. “Call him.”

After a moment of tense silence, she snatches the phone and dials.

It’s not a fix, but it’s a start.

∞∞∞

Half an hour later, we’re all outside again, and Wes is strapping a sleepy Rosie into her car seat.

My eyes keep drifting to the road, waiting for Dad. Sure enough, he arrives with a screech of tires, looking as furious as I remember, causing my stomach to do a slow roll.

He climbs out, jaw set.

When he storms toward us, Tess flinches and wraps her arms around herself.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, just loud enough for me to hear. “I love you.”

It’s manipulative and sweet all at once. “Jesus, Tess, you’re not being sentenced to death.”

Dad stops in front of us, his eyes flicking between us before he barks, “Get in the truck. Now.”

Tess tears away from me, slipping into the passenger seat of Dad’s old pickup with a hushed apology.

“You knew she was here?” he accuses, eyes flicking to Wes behind me.

You’d think after all these years, I would be used to this. Used to the confrontation.

Rolling my shoulders back, I set my jaw and urge my hands to stop trembling. “I guessed this is where she’d be after you called and said she was gone. ”

There’s a flash of something across his face that I can’t put my finger on.

He takes a menacing step forward, not to hurt. He never has, and he never would. That much I’m sure of. But it’s the only way he knows how to speak to me. “You let her get away with too much. This is your—”

His words snap short as Wes suddenly steps forward, positioning himself between us.

With his broad shoulders squared, his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.

He doesn’t even touch my father. He doesn’t need to.

His presence alone creates an invisible barrier, effectively pushing him back a step.

“I’d watch your tone when you speak to her.” Wes’s voice is low and controlled, carrying a subtle threat beneath those words. “Lower it. Now.”

Dad’s gaze flicks back to me, softened slightly by hesitation. “Sorry. I was worried about her. Can we talk…alone?”

I glance at Wes and nod, letting him know it’s all fine. He studies me for a long second before he dips his chin and steps aside.

We move a few feet away, leaving Wes by the truck with his arms folded. His eyes don’t leave my body. Even when I look away, I can feel the heat of his stare burning my skin.

My father rubs a hand over his face, looking bone-tired. “I don’t want to push Tess away like I did with you. I don’t know how to handle her.”

Push her away like he did with me?

That’s probably the closest thing to an apology I’ve ever gotten.

“Then talk to her. She’s a teenager and she’s rebellious, but she’s not bad.”

“I know that. She’s a good kid.” He looks at Tess back in the truck before returning his eyes to mine. “She didn’t tell you why I said no to that sleepover at Sophie’s, did she?”

“No... ?”

“I caught her kissing the older brother. She’s fourteen. I’m not letting her stay overnight in a house with some teenage boy she’s been making out with.”

My mouth falls open.

Oh.

Damn it, Tess.

“Well, that changes things,” I manage, mentally cursing Tess for leaving that detail out. “But you still could’ve—”

“I know,” he cuts in. “I’m not much good at talking.”

It’s the understatement of a lifetime. Memories flash: the silent dinners, the nights he locked himself away after Mom died, the years of stepping in to fill his shoes for my siblings.

I swallow the painful lump in my throat. “She doesn’t need perfect. She needs to know you care enough to try.”

His lips tighten, but he nods. “I appreciate the... advice.” The words are stilted, but maybe it’s something that isn’t anger.

“You should take her home. Calm down. Talk to her. Really talk to her.”

His head falls between his shoulders before he turns his gaze to where Wes is standing, resolute as a stone. “He your man?”

My cheeks heat. “I’m Rosie’s nanny, and he’s Rosie’s guardian. That’s all.”

Lie .

Dad nods, suddenly finding interest in his boots. “ You were always good with kids, Lena.”

And that’s it.

No affectionate hug, no tearful reunion.

He just trudges back to the truck, pausing once to send me a final look. It’s heavy with things unspoken, but I’m too drained to ask for more. Then he climbs in, and they pull away.

I turn back to see Wes and scrub at the tears that won’t fall. He doesn’t say a word, just watches me approach, something hard glinting in his eyes, as if he’s still dealing with the fact that he had to step between me and my father to begin with.

I climb into the passenger side without a word.

Halfway home, I hear him let out a ragged sigh. It sounds like he’s just lost some internal battle he was fighting. Before I can turn, he reaches over, takes my hand, and rests it on his thigh. The warmth of his palm seeps into my skin.

Don’t do this to me, Wes.

Lifting my hand to his lips, he presses a slow, deliberate kiss to my knuckles. That simple gesture nearly unravels me.

I don’t say a word. I just hold on to his hand, letting the soft brush of his thumb against my skin reassure me that everything might be okay. Or at least, that I’m not alone in this.

We don’t talk for the rest of the ride.

We don’t need to.