That’s what kept me warm all night long. Well, that and my comfy fleece blanket. Right now I didn’t want to talk to anybody and that included Daddy. Tonight, I wanted to be alone. Tomorrow, I’d face the wrath of walking away from her. I didn’t have the strength for that today.
I cried myself to sleep hoping this was all a dream, but knowing nothing would be any different Monday morning.
I’d still be alone.
Chapter Seventeen
Vasiah
I sat on the edge of the bed in the same clothes I’d worn yesterday, my back hunched, elbows heavy on my knees. I hadn’t slept, not really. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Sera’s sobs through the door, felt the weight of her words pressing against my chest.
I could’ve forced my way into that little clubhouse of hers, but that wasn’t the point. She needed space. She needed to grieve and burn through it her way. What she didn’t need was me barging in and turning it into a battle of wills. So I sat here instead. All night. Waiting.
The morning light was pale, cutting slivers of gold across the floorboards. The room smelled faintly of takeout that had gone untouched, and beneath that—her. Even in her absence, she was everywhere.
The door creaked. My head snapped up.
She emerged slowly, eyes swollen, hair sticking up in uneven tufts, Daddy’s t-shirt so long it resembled a dress on her shorter frame. Vulnerable. Beautiful. Breakable.
Her gaze flicked toward me, startled. I knew how I must look—worn down, tired lines carved deep under my eyes—but steady. Still here.
“Morning, little one.” My voice was quiet, gravelly from the hours of silence. “I waited.”
She froze, hugging that damn fleece blanket around herself like it was armor. “Why?”
“Because I don’t leave.” I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my thighs. “Not when it gets hard. Not when you spiral. Not when you slam doors and scream. I don’t leave, Sera.”
Her lip trembled, and she bit down on it like she could hold the emotion in. I saw right through her.
I pushed up from the bed, slow and deliberate, giving her every chance to retreat if she wanted. “I know you were hurting last night. I know someone said or did something to you that cut you deep. And I know I wasn’t here to answer when you called. That”—I tapped my chest with two fingers—“that gutted me.”
Her breath caught.
“I had Emerson,” I admitted, “and he needed me in a way that only I could show up. But hear me when I say this: youalsoneed me. And if you’d told me in your messages that it was an emergency, that you were falling apart, I would’ve found a way to call. I always will. But I can’t read silence. I need you to tell me what’s happening in here.” I reached, gently laying my palm over her heart.
It was racing.
She didn’t answer. Just stared at me, tears glassing her eyes again.
“I’m not your parents,” I said softly. “I don’t dismiss you. I don’t laugh at you. I don’t make you smaller. But I can’t prove that with words alone. I have to prove it by being here. And I will be. You just have to let me.”
Her first sob was quiet, muffled against the blanket. Then she dropped it and threw herself at me, arms tight around my waist. My chest cracked open with relief as I caught her, holding her so tightly I could feel every tremor in her body.
“Daddy…” she whispered into my shirt, like she hadn’t called me that in days instead of hours.
“I’m here, little one,” I murmured into her hair. “Right here. And I’m not going anywhere. So whenever you’re ready, I’m here to listen to whatever happened.”
Her breath hitched against me, and I felt the way her fingers curled tighter, like she was testing if I meant it. The fight drained out of her by degrees, replaced by raw, unshielded ache.
Her breath shuddered, and when she finally spoke, her voice was jagged. “I told her. I told my mom the truth.”
I pulled back just enough to see her face, wet and blotchy, but her eyes were burning. “The truth?” I asked gently.
“That I’m lesbian.” The words cracked as they left her. “She kept pushing me about this guy—kept saying I needed to set a date—and I couldn’t take it anymore. I just blurted it out. And she… she didn’t believe me. She said I was only saying it so I wouldn’t have to date him. Like I’d made it up.”
Her shoulders shook, the tears spilling faster.
“I said it again. Louder. But she kept questioning me, and I… I hung up. I couldn’t—” She swallowed hard, her chest heaving. “I couldn’t listen to her tear me apart like that.”
