Page 204 of Mountain Daddy

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.”