Full Tilt (Full Tilt #1)(57)

“Never heard of it,” I said.

“It’s this stupid, silly, fabulous reality show where they follow different brides-to-be as they go shopping for their wedding dress. They bring along a best friend to help them choose. Or a bunch of bitchy friends. Or their overbearing mother. But the episode tonight…” Kacey sniffed. “One bride brought along some friends. And her father.”

She inhaled, and I felt the fluttery shudder of her breath huff against my chest. I held her tighter.

“So she’s trying on dresses, and they’re all pretty, but none of them are quite it. Until finally she tries on The One. And her whole group knows it’s The One because they all start crying. The bride cried, and then her dad cried, and then I cried because I wanted what she had so badly.”

“The dress?”

Kacey elbowed me in the side. “Smartass. The dress was awful, actually. Mermaid-style. She looked like she was wrapped in bandages. The point is, I wanted what she had with her dad.”

Her body wilted, leaning harder on mine. “Tell me more,” I said.

“This dad… He’d been a Marine, retired now, and super tough-looking. But a total softy when it came to his daughter. He didn’t bother to hide his feelings. He told the camera she would always be his little girl. He said how much he loved her and was proud of her.” Kacey’s voice cracked then broke. “This girl has this beautiful relationship with her dad that I’ll never have with mine. It hurts. I hate how it hurts. I want not to care but I can’t stop caring. I can’t. He’s my dad. I love him. Isn’t he supposed to feel the same?”

“He is,” I said. Still holding her, I reached for the tissue box on the table and plucked one.

“Thanks,” she said, dabbing her eyes.

“So you called him?”

“Like a dummy. I thought, I may not have what that girl and her father have, but I can start somewhere. I can try. I didn’t let myself overthink it, just grabbed my phone and called him. And he answered, not my mom, and I thought, That’s a sign.”

She reached for another tissue. “Yeah, it was a sign all right. That I’m a f*cking idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” I said. “What did he say?”

“He was quiet, as usual. But I was nervous so I started babbling like a moron. I told him I’d quit a successful rock band and threw away millions of dollars and fame and fortune. So I could sling cocktails at Caesar’s because I knew it was healthier for me. I was better for it. I told him I was living on my own, paying my own rent, and writing my own music. I said I was happy, even if my songs weren’t seeing the light of day outside my notebook yet.” She sniffled and burrowed her face closer to my chest.

I slid my hand into her hair. “What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Okay, then.’”

I waited for more but nothing came.

“Okay then what?” I said.

“That was it. Okay, then. And he hung up. He just…hung up on me.”

My mouth hung half-open and useless as she sobbed against my chest, her tears wetting my shirt. I put my other arm around her as well and held her close. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

She pulled free and fired the balled-up tissues across the room. “I’m tired of feeling like this. I feel so pathetic wanting my own father to need me in his life.” She stared down at her empty hands. “He doesn’t need me.”

“I need you.” It was the truth, and sometimes truth refuses to be contained. It bursts out, usually when it’s least convenient, but also when it’s needed most.

She smiled wanly, laid her hand over my chest where her tears had dampened my shirt. “You’re sweet. I had no one and you gave me friendship and a place to live.”

“I need you,” I said again.

Her eyes settled on mine. “You do?”

I nodded. God, she was so close to me, I could smell her skin. Sweet, like caramel. “Friends serve different purposes, right? Some things you can only say to certain people, some things you can say to others.”

Kacey’s gaze was unwavering. “Tell me something you can’t tell your other friends,” she said softly. “Something you can only tell me.”

For a few seconds I was lost in the blue pools of her eyes, struck mute by the thousands of things I wanted to tell her.

“I’m scared,” I said.

Her hand crept into mine. “Okay.”

“But who wouldn’t be?”

She didn’t say anything. I felt her acceptance and trust pouring into me from her eyes. I could spill my guts to her and she’d listen, or I could keep it to myself and she’d understand.

“Everyone is watching me, all the time. I feel like…I can’t do or say anything without weighing it carefully. Because everything I do means something, even when it doesn’t. I can’t raise my voice or get angry or irritated because I can’t leave that kind of memory. I have only a finite amount of words left to say. I have to choose them carefully.”

She nodded and let me continue. Which I did, telling her more than I meant to, telling her what I couldn’t tell anyone else. The words poured out of me and into Kacey’s lap.

“My actions too. I’m being constantly watched, studied, examined. Am I tired from a long day at the shop, or is it something worse? They treat me like I’m breakable. Like the whole world is a potential threat. Someone might say the wrong thing and upset me, and God forbid I should ever be upset. But I am upset.”