I pushed aside the conflicting emotions I felt for Teagan because that’s what I needed to do to keep my wife.
When I think back, I remember the pain in my chest when I made that last call to Teagan. The way I pictured her face as she cried and begged me not to do this. I let her think it was her fault. I didn’t tell her it was me who was weak and ashamed.
I didn’t tell her that I had feelings for her and I needed to make the right choice, even if it hurt us both.
Meghan would’ve left me if I spoke to Teagan again.
So, I kept my promise to my wife, cut all ties, told Teagan I couldn’t be there for her anymore since I had my own family. Which wasn’t the case at all.
But Meghan is gone now, and no matter what happened between me and Teagan I will not allow Everly to hurt anyone like this.
“You don’t know anything about the past, and you will not treat that girl or her mother with anything less than the highest respect,” I say as I take a step closer. “So help me God, Everly, if I find out that you say anything again, you’ll regret it.”
“What are you going to do, Dad? Move me from my home? Take my friends from me? Maybe take away my life? Well, too late!”
“You think this is what I want?”
I had a great practice in South Carolina. We had a beautiful home, friends, schools, and the life that people dream of, and I had to leave it all behind.
Not because we lost Meghan, but because my father needed me.
Everly crosses her arms and shifts away from me. “Just go, Dad.”
I’m completely inept at dealing with her. Talking does nothing but lead to a fight and neither of us are willing to bend.
Maybe giving her space is what she needs. “Fine, but you need to stop thinking you’re old enough to understand things you should’ve never heard. You’re not an adult, contrary to whatever you think, and I won’t put up with you bullying anyone, understand?”
Her head turns and she glares. “Completely.”
I have a feeling she and I agreed on something else, but I’m too exhausted to push her.
“Good night, Ev. I love you.”
I want her to at least hear that.
Her eyes soften, but I know her too well to expect her to give in. She’s always been more like Meghan when she digs her heels in. “Whatever.”
I close the door and lean my head against the wall. No one ever told me how hard parenting really is. It was different when it was Meghan and I. We were a team when it came to Everly and where one was a little weaker, the other was strong.
Now, I’m just weak and completely freaking lost.
My parents are sitting in the living room that hasn’t changed in the last thirty years, doing their best to pretend not to have heard all of it.
I sit on the sofa that still has the bloodstain from when I cut my arm when I was six. The photographs on the wall haven’t been changed out and I cringe at my braces and long hair.
“Are you going to tell us what all that was about?” my mother asks while continuing to knit.
“Just me failing as a parent.”
My father chuckles once. “That’s a perpetual state, son.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m just being honest. If you ever feel like you’re doing a good job—worry.”
My dad is the main reason I decided to head back here. Mom told me that his memory has been failing of late and that he needs help with the practice. I suggested he finally retire, but she said he won’t even consider it until he found another veterinarian to take over.
However, it’s not like there’s anyone else around here.
He’s the only one people call.
Which meant, I was the only option he had.
“How are you feeling today, Dad?”
He shrugs. “Horses were giving me a bit of trouble. You know how stubborn they can be.”
“Much like teenagers,” I toss back.
“Everly is in a lot of pain, Derek. You should remember that. Losing a parent is very difficult.” Mom’s voice is soft and full of understanding.
“Doesn’t give her the right to be a little shit.”
Dad pushes the paper he was reading down. “Mouth.”
“I’m almost thirty-five.”
“I don’t care if you’re seventy-five. Around your mother we don’t use that language.”
My mother smirks and rolls her eyes because he’s so hell-bent on protecting her delicate ears when she has the worst mouth in all of Virginia. Mom cusses like a sailor thanks to her father, who was one.
“Whatever you say, Pop.”
He grumbles and goes back to his paper. Mom shares a secret look with me and I smile. She and I have always been close, and right now, I need her help. I was fortunate to grow up with a loving, sweet mother who baked a cake once a week but who also loved poker and taught me how to cheat. She’s the oxymoron to every situation. My friends would look at her and see this version of June Cleaver, only to find out she was really Peg Bundy.
“You know what always helps me clear my mind?” she says, drawing my attention. “A walk on the beach. The salt air is great to cleanse the soul. Don’t you think, honey?”
It’s been a long time since I’ve been close to the water. We lived on the Georgia border of South Carolina. I’ve missed the waves and the mere idea of seeing the wild horses.
“I hear you, Mom.”
She smiles to herself and goes back to her knitting when I stand.
The walk to the shoreline takes about ten minutes, but it’s ten minutes of total peace. There’s no one out, since it’s September and all the tourists are gone, leaving the locals back to their little slice of heaven. It’s still warm enough that it feels like summer, though.
