It’s a lot to process.
After a minute of quiet, she says, “Do you have an opinion, Dad?”
He exhales, and his brow furrows. “My opinion is … I don’t want you worrying about me anymore, kiddo.”
“Dad, that’s not the?—”
“It is, though.” He throws a hand up to cut off her protest. “My job is to make your life easier, not harder.”
She swallows, and I’m guessing every part of her wants to tell him she’d do anything for him. And that he doesn’t make her life harder. But that second part’s not true, no matter how much the first part is.
“In any case,” he continues, “it sounds like you’ve already done all the legwork for me.” He hitches his shoulders. “Apparently, allIhave to do is show up with a suitcase or two and start living. Do I have that right?”
“If you want, Dad.”
He drops his gaze to his lap, tapping his knee with a fist. “And I can always change my mind, I suppose.”
“Dad, you’re the smartest man I know. You’ve always chosen wisely.” She lays a hand over his fist to stop the tapping. “I’m sure this situation won’t be any different.”
He loops his fingers through hers, and the room goes silent for a stretch. Then he lifts his face to hers. “I guess I’d have to be a fool not to at least give this a try.”
Loren expels a breath. “A try, yes. That’s exactly right.”
Later, after a lengthy discussion of move-in logistics, not to mention the completion of some online paperwork, Harlan sees Loren and me to the door. He gives her a long, tight hug, holding on like he never wants to let go.
Yep. I recognize that syndrome.
“I’m going to be fine by the way,” he says, when he finally releases her. “The smoke detector and I have made peace with each other, so there’s no need to worry.”
“I—”
“Bah.” He waves her away. “Don’t bother claiming you won’t fret over me for the next few days.”
She lets out a tiny laugh. “It’s like you know me or something.”
“Only for your entire life,” he says, eyes crinkling. “Anyway, I’ve got some packing to keep me occupied. And Noah will be coming by every night.”
“You’re right,” she says. “He will.”
At least now, the stab of jealousy is tempered by gratitude. If Noah’s presence over the next few days gives Loren peace of mind, that’s priceless. Her dad may still need him.
But she chose me.
I reach for his hand now and give it a shake. “We can drop off some boxes if you want, sir. For the packing.”
“That would be a big help,” he says. “But you better call me Harlan. You know, I’m not an old man, son.”
“Harlan it is.” I bob my head.
“And you’re Bridger, right?”
“I am.” I press out a laugh. “But feel free to call me son.”
This earns me a chuckle, then he flashes a wink at Loren. “Have I told you I like this guy?”
“Yeah, Dad.” she smiles. “You sure did.”
Chapter Twenty