A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain #1)(33)

But my father was too busy losing his shit to even look at us. “Right after she died, he was a mess. One night he got it in his head that he had to remove all her pieces from the house. There weren’t many. She liked to sell her work, and send it out into the world. But we had some of her clay models at home. Dad was a little drunk, and he took all the smaller pieces out…”

I take a deep breath, surprised at how hard it still is to talk about this.

“The largest piece went last. I saw he was in a state, and I tried to help. But he jerked away from me. And it fell and cracked.” I get the rest of it out in a rush. “For a second, we both just stared at that crack. And then it’s like he just snapped. Like one more loss was too many. He picked it up and hurled it outside. It broke into pieces on the front walkway to our house.”

Afterward, I’d cleaned up the whole mess as best I could before every single employee could see what a disaster he’d become. I don’t even know why, but I’d felt so much shame about it.

Still, those were the early days, when I’d thought my dad might pull out of his rage spiral. When I’d thought he’d stop drinking and start acting like our dad again.

I was wrong.





CHAPTER 16




WHAT MUST YOU HAVE BEEN THINKING?





AVA Across from me, Reed is struggling. He hides it, but I know him pretty well, even after all this time. “That is awful, Reed. I had no idea things were that bad after she died. I remember you told me your father hadn’t coped well, but…”

His laugh is bitter. “None of us did. I was nineteen. I had no idea what to say to him, or what to do with this—” he waves a hand “—black hole in the middle of our family. I had so much guilt for being off at Middlebury when she passed. But it was torture being home for a month. When I went back to school in February, it was such a relief to get away from my father.”

I make a sound of dismay. Now I know why he never went home. It wasn’t until two years later that I’d met Reed, another year until I showed up here in Colorado, and then another two years until I started working closely with his father.

Clearly his dad had done some work on himself in the intervening years. By the time I went to work in the administrative office, he’d quit drinking. “I just had no idea. It must have been traumatic.”

Reed shrugs, like he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. “It’s no excuse, Ava, but that wreck of a kid was the guy you met two years later. I had no business getting serious with anybody.” He lifts his brown eyes, and they’re full of apology. “I’m sorry I blew up your life. I never meant to. It’s just that when we lost the—” He swallows.

“Baby,” I say softly. It’s not easy for me, either.

He takes a breath. “Baby,” he repeats carefully. “I just couldn’t cope. It was like…here we go again. I shut down. I couldn’t get myself through that, and I didn’t have the first clue how to get you through it, too. So I…” Another deep breath. “I took myself out of the equation. I know that sounds childish.”

“It was childish. That’s because we were basically children.”

“No,” he argues reflexively, just like a man. “I could have been the man you needed, but I wasn’t. I’m so sorry.”

I feel a little teary, because I’ve always needed to hear this apology. Meanwhile, I’ve nursed my anger for a decade, and it’s just hitting me that it prevented me from seeing past my own hurts. “It never occurred to me that you were traumatized. I never tried to see the bigger picture. I just thought you were…” Now I’m the one who has to swallow hard before I can finish the sentence. “Relieved when I miscarried. Like you got a do-over.”

“Baby, no.” Reed’s eyes get red. “I wanted you. I wanted that baby. I wanted a family. I was crushed when it didn’t happen for us. So crushed I couldn’t stand it.”

I stop breathing.

“Ava, come here a second. Please.” He beckons to me.

After putting my mug down with shaking hands, I walk over to the sofa. When I sit down, Reed pulls me into his arms. For the second time in two days, I inhale his woodsy scent. And I have to steel myself against pushing my nose into his neck and staying there forever.

I settle for laying my head on his shoulder while he hugs me tightly.

“Ava,” he whispers. “You were everything to me. And I threw that away, just like my father did with the pottery. I learned nothing from him. I have so many regrets.”

My eyes leak onto his crisp shirt. “Thank you for that,” I whisper. “Except…” I lift my head and look at him through my tears. “The first time we ever had a conversation, I convinced you to throw your pottery on the floor. I made it a game. What must you have been thinking?”

“But you had a point to make.” He strokes his thumb down my cheekbone. “It’s healthy to wreck an unfinished thing so you can start over and build something stronger. It’s not okay to break something just because it hurts to look at it. That’s what I did to us. I’ll always be sorry.”

I lay my head on his shoulder for another moment.

His lips touch my hair, and my heart trips over itself. And then I make things worse, and I’m really not sure why.