You’re dead to me. Your career is over. Don’t expect to work in the industry again. Leave and rot in hell, bitch.
I do believe that some things happen for a reason. Perhaps I was meant to snap that night; that car was meant to hit me. It catapulted Lance back into my life. Maybe I should take it as a sign and stop worrying about the consequences of every decision I make.
Live life now, as I promised myself I would a few years ago.
Trying to live the life I believe I should, hasn’t exactly landed me where I wanted to. Taking a risk on the unexpected is perhaps what I need.
Chapter forty-two
Lance
Three months later... April 2022
“Dad, you know how I have red hair?” Hannah asks innocently.
The hair on the back of my own neck stands up . This is the question I’ve been asking in my head for months. I’m terrified of the answer.
“Yes,” I reply, keeping my tone bland.
“Well, we’ve been learning about genetics in school, and the red hair gene is recessive. It needs to come from both parents, so most likely if you have red hair, one of your parents will have red hair.” She pauses and taps her lips with a finger. “I was just wondering who in your family had red hair.”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. There’s no point in lying to her; she isn’t stupid. “I’m not aware of anyone with red hair, but I didn’t get to know a lot of my dad’s family. There aren’t many pictures either, and most are in black and white.”
“Maybe I’ll ask Grams,” she says wistfully, lost in her own thoughts. The last thing I want her to do is to ask my mother.
I try to maintain a calm expression, but the panic rises as I listen to her talk. She prattles on about distant family members and how physical characteristics are passed down through family lines. My mother has never questioned Hannah’s parentage, but I know if she gets wind of any discrepancy, she will be a dog with a bone, hunting down the truth until it’s laid bare in front of her.
Katie wanders into the kitchen, thankfully diverting the conversation to other topics. Hannah glares at her like she does every day. If she was a cat, she would be hissing openly. She has been marking her territory since Katie arrived by helping around the house and giving her opinion on every decision to be made, whether it is requested or not.
In the evening, Hannah sits beside me and holds my hand tight as if I might disappear if she lets go. I hoped having a woman in the house would calm her and build her confidence, but it seems she sees Katie as her direct competitor.
My choice to go to Katie after the accident sent Hannah into a spin. The more I’ve thought about it, I realize that she felt I’d reordered my priorities. What was something I had to do, going to Katie’s side, to Hannah felt like me choosing her. Perhaps I should’ve taken her with me, but we do what we can in the moment.
Then when Katie moved in, Hannah doubled down, rejecting every attempt Katie has made to build a relationship with her. I suppose considering everything my daughter’s dealt with these past few years—her mother’s abandonment, the bullying, my injuries—she’s terrified she’ll be displaced. That there will be no room left for her, if Katie takes up space.
“What would everyone like for dinner?” Katie asks as she starts to empty the dishwasher.
“Not that crap you made the other night,” Hannah snaps. “It made me vomit. What did you call it? Curry? Gadz, it was awful.”
“Hannah,” I scold. “Apologize now. Don’t be so disrespectful.”
“No. I didn’t like it, and I won’t pretend I did. Is it not about time she went back to London, anyway?” She gestures in Katie’s direction. “She’s all better, isn’t she?”
“Hannah, don’t talk about Katie as if she isn’t here,” I whisper angrily to my daughter, who I’m trying to stay calm for, but struggling. “Katie’s offering to make your dinner. Be grateful.” She sticks out her bottom lip petulantly and storms from the room, slamming the door.
Katie gives me a soft smile. “Ignore it,” she says calmly. “I was a teenage girl once. I know what it’s like. All those hormones racing around your body. It’s tough.”
“But she can’t speak to you…”
Katie raises a hand. I stop speaking.
“Lance, it’s not that she hates me.” My brow creases, confused. The way Hannah talks, she does a good impression of hatred. “It’s that she frightened of losing her father. Concerned about where she fits in what to her is a new normal.”
I stare at the beautiful woman in front of me. She has been living with us for three months, and I hate the idea of her ever leaving. Life feels complete when she’s in my home with me and the children.
“Sometimes, we all just need time to figure out our place. Time to heal,” she says. “Be patient with her, like you’ve been with me. It’s the best medicine.”
Every day, she gets better mentally and physically, the Katie I knew before returning one giggle at a time. I’ve watched her take on more of the role of wife and mother. My dream is coming true before my eyes, and I don’t even know if she’s planning to stay. I’m frightened to ask.