Aflame (Fall Away #4)(37)

“Tate, I know this is hard,” he said softly. “Selling the house, I mean. I know you’re going to miss it there.”

I swallowed the lump of food in my throat, making sure I looked indifferent. “It’ll be a hard good-bye, but nothing can stay the same forever, right?” I was trying to stay positive. There was nothing that could be done, and I couldn’t expect my father to keep paying expenses on a large house we no longer needed.

“Honey, look at me, please.”

I stopped cutting food with my fork and looked up.

He stared at me for a moment, but then frowned and looked away. Brushing his nose with his hand, he let out a sigh.

My heart sank, and I wondered what the hell he was trying to say.

“Is everything okay?” I shot out. “Your heart—?”

“I’m fine.” He nodded quickly. “I just . . .”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is it the house? Has it been sold?”

His gaze locked on mine, and he hesitated before replying. “No.” He shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong necessarily.”

“Dad, just spit it out.”

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled a hard breath. “Well, I’m seeing someone, actually,” he said. “Someone I’ve grown very close to.”

I set my fork down, my back straightening. Seeing someone? I remembered him talking about going on a date here and there a while after my mom died, but he never introduced me to anyone. Was it serious?

My dad watched me, waiting for me to say something, probably.

I finally blinked, clearing my throat. “Dad, that’s great,” I told him with an honest smile. “I’m happy for you. Is she Italian?”

“No.” He fidgeted, looking very uncomfortable. “No, she lives back home, actually.”

“Here?”

His cheeks puffed out as he ran his hand though his hair once more. “This is very awkward.” He laughed nervously. “Honey, about a year ago, I started seeing one of . . .” He trailed off, looking like he desperately needed different words to tell me what he needed to tell me. “I started seeing one of your old teachers. Elizabeth Penley,” he rushed out.

“Miss Penley?”

Miss Penley and my dad?

“It was sporadic,” he explained, sounding more like he was apologizing. “With my schedule and her job and your schedule, not to mention that when you did make it home here and there, I wanted our time together to be just us.” He took a deep breath and continued, “It just seemed like there was never a good time to tell you.”

I guess I understood.

He probably could’ve mentioned it at some point, though. Jesus.

“I didn’t know if it would last, and I didn’t want to mention it until I was sure. It’s only gotten really serious in the past couple of months,” he explained further, as if reading my mind.

Nodding, I tried to absorb the idea of my dad telling me about someone new in his life. He’d never made this big a deal out of anyone.

But the truth was, I had been worried about him. I always worried about him. Especially with me no longer home during his time at home, I couldn’t shake the guilt that he was eating alone, watching TV alone, going to sleep alone . . .

Although my mom would always be loved and important, I didn’t want my dad by himself forever.

“Well.” I sighed. “It’s about time. And I love Miss Penley. She’s amazing.” But then I narrowed my eyes on him, questioning. “But why, if you couldn’t find the time to tell me at Christmas or spring break or over video chat before, are you telling me now?”

He offered a timid smile. “Because I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

***

“Tate!”

I jerked my head to the left, seeing Madoc heading my way.

“Great,” I whispered, focusing back out on the track.

After the call with my dad, I came out—as so many others did during the day—to take a few practice runs around the track and enjoy the calm I found here without the crowd.

I was struggling, and I didn’t know why. I liked Penley, and I wanted my dad to have someone. His proposing was a good thing, and I should’ve been happy for him.

So why did I feel like it was all suddenly too much?

The house, Stanford, his relationship . . . I felt as if I were at sail without a rudder or an anchor.

So I came out to drive. To clear my head.

To be alone, which Madoc hated.

“Let’s go.” The bite in his voice was sharp, and I knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Now.”

I looked at him again, confusion, aggravation, and frustration probably all evident on my face. “Where?”

He jerked his head behind him. “My house. We threw a party together. Fallon said she texted you an hour ago.”

“No.” I shook my head, knowing exactly whom I’d see there. “No party.”

He halted, pushing his suit jacket open and planting his hands on his hips.

“What are you wearing?” I asked, taking in the black suit pants and jacket and the light blue shirt with the royal blue tie. His clothes and hair were sleek and stylish, and I could never get over how he wound up with someone as alternative as Fallon.

He straightened, suddenly looking affronted. Running a hand down his front, he tipped his chin down at me. “Hot or not?” he asked, turning playful as he referred to his clothes. “I had to go in for my internship for a few hours this morning.”