Page 125 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)
Kendra
Dinner has been surprisingly okay.
I can still feel the tension dragging my attention across the table, but Luther has been pretty much himself. And we’ve both done a good job encouraging Dad to fill the silence by prompting him to tell stories.
I put a piece of steak in my mouth and chew.
Another few meals like this and I might be able to pretend my history with Luther never happened.
Might be able to put those memories into a corner of my mind and pretend it was all a daydream.
“How’s Ashley?” Dad asks, shoving his empty plate toward the center of the table.
Luther grunts as he swallows a brussels sprout. “Got a raise.”
Dad hums. “That’s good.”
“And a boyfriend.”
Dad laughs, but my eyes widen.
She told him?
Luther’s gaze catches mine.
Does he know I know?
Did she tell him that she knows about us?
Something twists in my chest.
What if she brought it up after… And Luther had to tell her he broke up with me.
That would’ve been so uncomfortable. For both of them.
“Have you met him?” Dad asks.
Luther shakes his head. “Not yet.”
“Welp, better meet him soon before he becomes the father of your grandbabies.”
Luther gapes at him. “Fuck you so much.”
I snort.
Dad laughs as he turns to me. “Just gotta get you a boyfriend. Then maybe you can give me grandbabies at the same time.”
He doesn’t mean anything by it.
It’s just a thing parents say.
But it slices through my calm.
I press my lips together.
I’m okay.
Seriously, I’m totally fucking okay.
It’s just… I don’t want to have this conversation.
I’ve avoided it for years.
And years and years.
But I knew I’d have to do it eventually.
And… Fuck. I think it has to be now.
I glance at Luther as I dig my teeth into my lip.
He should know too.
Even if it doesn’t change anything.
Even if everything between us stays exactly the same.
He should know too.
I set my fork down.
“Dad, I…” I swallow. “I can’t have kids.”
His mouth opens, but then he closes it. “You don’t want to?” he asks slowly.
Rolling my lips together, I wish I could do this without feeling so emotional.
Tears won’t help.
I’m okay now. And I need him to understand that part the most.
I lift a shoulder. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean?” Dad’s voice is quiet.
I can feel Luther’s eyes on me, but I can’t look at him. Not while I say this part. “I mean… I’ll never be able to have children. I…” I take a breath. Then I say it. “I had my ovaries removed.”
Dad’s throat bobs. “When?”
“Ten years ago,” I admit, knowing it will hurt him.
Dad blinks, then whispers the next question, like he’s scared of the answer. “Why?”
It was a lifetime ago.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
“They—the doctors, they found a tumor.”
Dad exhales, like the answer struck him in the chest.
We found a tumor.
We need to remove it as soon as possible.
I try not to think about that day. But it’s easier now. Easier than it was.
My dad’s eyes shimmer with emotion. “Cancer?”
I lift my shoulder again and nod.
He makes a sound of distress.
“I’m fine.” I hurry out. “They got everything, and nothing spread. That’s why they took both.”
“Kendra.” Tears spill down Dad’s cheeks.
He never calls me that.
I fight my own battle against my tears.
“I’m okay.” I reassure him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He wipes at his cheeks.
I twist my fingers together in my lap.
I don’t have a good answer to this question.
And now that we’re here. Now that it’s caught up to me. I feel fucking awful.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It all happened so fast. And…”
I brush at my cheeks.
There’s no real reason.
No excuse.
Dad shakes his head, wiping away his own tears. “No. No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Don’t apologize.”
“I just…” I fucking shrug again.
I hate that he’s the one saying sorry when I’m the one who didn’t tell him.
“Were you at your mom’s?” He sniffs.
His question hurts. I hate that he’d even think I would tell Mom but not him.
And I hate my answer just as much.
But I give him the truth and shake my head. “I never told her.”
“You… No one…?” His inhale is choppy.
I never told either of them.
Didn’t tell anyone.
Didn’t tell my boyfriend.
Never told him the real reason I broke up with him.
Because I knew he wanted kids. He’d talked about it. He wanted several.
And when I knew I’d never have them…
“Please don’t be sad.” I plead with my dad as tears continue to stream down his face.
“My little girl had cancer, and I didn’t even know.” His words are choked. Like he’s saying it to himself.
I feel like the worst daughter ever.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I… I just wanted to deal with it alone. The surgery… It… The recovery wasn’t that bad.”
It’s the truth. Followed by a lie.
“You’re really okay though? It’s—” Dad swallows. “The cancer is gone?”
I nod, glad I can give him this. “It’s gone.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. I go in every year, and I had my checkup three months ago. There’s never been any signs of it coming back.”
I try to bolster him with the good news, but he still looks like I told him I’m dying.
“Did you go by yourself?”
My shoulders drop.
I did all of it by myself.
Every appointment.
Every follow-up.
Every phone call.
Every medication.
I thought it was what I wanted.
Thought it would be easier to do it alone.
Thought it would be less stressful if I didn’t include anyone else in the trauma.
But sitting here, heart hurting over Dad’s reaction, I realize I was wrong.
I was wrong to keep it from him.
Wrong to keep it from my mom.
I was even wrong to keep it from my boyfriend.
I didn’t love him, and leaving was the right choice, but he deserved the truth.
So does Luther.
Dad rubs his palms over his eyes, and I finally turn my head, meeting Luther’s gaze.
His face is pale.
He’s sitting so still that he looks… haunted.
But he’s watching me.
Hearing every sentence.
Taking in every word.
So I answer the question he should have asked me.
I tell him what he should’ve known.
“I was never sure if I wanted kids. I was only twenty-two, and I wasn’t ready to decide.” I take a second to breathe. And then looking into Luther’s eyes, I give him the rest of the truth. “But it hurt. Having the choice taken away from me hurt. And it wasn’t fair.”