My ribcage expanded as I inhaled deeply. “The one thing I’ve never done is tell Buck how I feel, and yes, confront him with how much he messed me up. He is the root of my…never ending issue.”
“And you want to gripe him out for it? Understandable.”
“No, I want to tell him how it made me feel and maybe hear his side of things.”
“You want to hear an apology.” Miller’s voice was so sympathetic, I had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t an apparition. Where had sarcastic Miller gone to? “That’s what you went for, wasn’t it?” he asked.
Now it just sounded absurd, and I felt small and childish. Like that little girl who had expected too much and only earned disappointment. “I wouldn’t have turned one down.”
“But?”
“But I know I probably wouldn’t have gotten an apology. I wanted an opportunity to air my own grievances, to hold him accountable—there’s power in that.”
Miller squeezed my hand and released it, the warmth of his touch still lingering on my skin. “You’ve got plenty of power in there.”
“I can’t keep going on like this—broken and making the same mistakes. I don’t want to be sitting here twenty years from now having the same conversation with you, crying because Mr. Right left me—again.”
“Those guys haven’t been Mr. Right. Not even close. I know this because—”
“Because you’re excellent at reading people. Got it.” We both laughed, and it felt good to hit the release valve on some of this pent-up pain and frustration.
“So your bio-dad’s the original man to leave you?” Miller’s words should’ve grated, but instead his voice sounded steady and comforting. Maybe mending fences at nearly midnight tenderized a man.
“Buck’s the one who bought the ticket and put me on this roller coaster of crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.” He shrugged. “I mean, a little, but I’m probably the only one who can see it.”
“Buck was the stereotypical deadbeat dad. My parents divorced when I was three, and his visits were sporadic. He was full of promises and big talk.” When I closed my eyes I could still see my brother and me sitting on the front porch of our rental house waiting for our dad to pick us up. Waiting until the sun went down and the air turned too cold to remain outside any longer. “I treat people every day for trauma and help them sort out their thoughts, but I can’t seem to straighten myself out. It’s embarrassing, really.”
“A brain surgeon can’t operate on himself.”
“What does that mean?”
“I dunno. I don’t do well with this mining of the feelings stuff. Just ask my nieces.” His arm snaked around my shoulders, and Miller drew me to his side for a hug. “I think it means you can be a gifted therapist while still working on yourself.”
When his chin rested on the top of my head, I felt a spark dance across my arms and mentally doused it with water, a flame-smothering blanket, and a fire extinguisher—the heavy kind that could handle a two-alarm engulfment.
The swing swayed a gentle rhythm as Miller tried again. “I think this is where a normal person would ask how it felt seeing him.”
His heart beat beneath my chin, and I thought,This is where a normal person would throw herself at you and beg you to kiss her.
“Hattie?”
“Huh? Oh, right. Um, seeing my dad. Yeah. Lots…lots of feelings.” I tried to shove them into some order and use my big girl words, despite my overheated imagination. “I guess it brought a lot of stuff back, you know? Things I hadn’t thought about in years.” Promises made. A dollar store doll he gave me for a birthday, and I’d taken it with me everywhere. When it got lost in a move, I’d cried for weeks. Then my stepdad had bought me a new one. A better one. And yet it hadn’t been enough. “I think I want to understand Buck. I thought talking to him might help and, in getting clarity on him, I could get more clarity for me.”
“Why didn’t you speak to him tonight?”
“Because I’m a scaredy cat.”
“Don’t say that. I saw you visit the chicken yard on a break with a group this morning and get intercepted by our meanest rooster.”
Flashbacks of a psychotic bundle of feathers barreling toward me crashed through my mind. “That took years off my life.”
“Few get that close to that bird and don’t come away bleeding out. Look how brave you were. If you can handle Cluck Norris, you can handle anything.”
“I don’t know what happened tonight. I walked up to where Buck was signing autographs for this small circle of people, and I just watched him. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even say his name to get his attention. I was that voiceless kid again.”
“When are you going back?”
