I hugged my torso in the living room while I waited for him to come out of my dad’s room. My body felt drained with humiliation and disappointment over my father. I loved himwith all my heart, but moments like these reminded me just how fucked up I was because of him. I had no intention of getting married, but he made me question if it was safe to trust anyone with my damaged heart.
Jack emerged from the master bedroom, his expression giving nothing away. No empathy, but more importantly, no pity resided in his eyes. It was just the two of us in the dark living room. But what could I say to him? Despite our close upbringing, when things like this happened, it felt like Jack had lived a completely different life from the one I had.
When a few beats passed, Jack asked, “Do you want me to take you back so you can get your golf cart?”
I broke out of my trance. “What?”
“Your golf cart,” he repeated. “It’s still at the clubhouse.”
“Oh…yeah. Yes, I need to bring it back.”
***
When we returned to the clubhouse, my brain was everywhere and nowhere. I was humiliated and upset, and I craved anything that would help me forget about this night.
I figured Jack would stick around at the party a while longer, so I hopped out of his truck as soon as he turned off the ignition. Being in his space felt like too much. Overwhelming in a time when I wanted to be alone.
A few spots had cleared out, so standing in the open felt exposed, like someone might walk out of the clubhouse and recognize me as the girl who dragged the plastered man out of there a few minutes ago.
I tipped my head back and took a few deep breaths, trying to clear my mind. I fucking hated this. Part of me was dying for the winter season to come, to escape to anywhere else for a few months. But another part of me scolded myself for it. Yes, he wasa grown man, and I was a grown woman, but my dad needed someone to take care of him…right? I couldn’t look after him forever, but at least he would have someone to save him from himself.
When I brought my head back down and opened my eyes, I nearly jumped seeing Jack standing in front of me and the pitiful expression that painted his face. “Jesus Christ, Jack. You scared the shit out of me.” My breathing was still uneven, and I tried to shake off the shivery feeling all over my body.
Jack said nothing. He just sighed and pulled me into a hug.
What the hell?
His embrace warmed my skin in a way completely opposite to how I felt looking at my intoxicated father. I didn’t need a hug, but it felt nice to be shielded from the world for a minute.
“Jack?” I asked, my voice muffled into his shirt.
He stayed quiet.
“What’re you doing?”
He said nothing.
“Why are you doing this?” I tried again. This wasn’t normal. We didn’t do hugs. There was nothing sappy about us.
“Just give yourself a minute,” he answered softly.
“I don’t need a hug.”
“Well, I’m giving you one anyway.”
I sighed and let everything sink in for a few moments. I desperately hoped this wasn’t what my future would look like forever. It was depleting imagining my life as the girl with the drunk father. I prayed more than anything that it wouldn’t define my reputation in the same way it defined my views on life.
Leaning into Jack for a few more seconds, I asked myself why I was suddenly craving his touch more than ever right now. It wasn’t lust, but it also wasn’t romantic.
Gratitude, maybe?
Then it dawned on me.
Control.
I wouldn’t be led through life. Hell, I was pissed at Jack for staking his claim on me earlier and I was pissed at him now for helping me tonight.
“Why did you help us?” I asked, pulling back. His hands didn’t release my forearms, and my blood warmed at the simple gesture. “Is it because you were trying to get laid?”
