Hell on Heels(58)

I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to me, or if perhaps he was just thinking out loud, but I decided to answer him anyways. “It’s my favourite place on Earth.”

“Me too.” He reached across the bench of his truck and squeezed my thigh.

I gave him a half smile in return as he pulled into my parents’ driveway.

He parked, but when he turned the engine off, I reached across and grabbed his bicep. “You don’t have to come in, Dean.”

“I owe them enough to at least walk their daughter to their door.” He smiled. “I haven’t done a lot for you, Charlie, but that I can do.”

“Okay.”

I let go of his arm, and he rounded the front before helping me down with the flowers.

“What the hell is he doing here?” My dad slammed the porch door against the wall, with my mother on his heels.

“Jon, stop it,” she warned.

Dad growled, and I stepped in front of Dean as we approached the staircase. They knew he’d come back into my life eight months ago, but hearing it and seeing it were two very different things.

“Daddy, please.” My voice was a plea. “I was too sad, so Dean offered to drive me.”

He stayed put and didn’t say another word, and I mouthed the words, Thank you.

My mother kept one of her hands on my dad, but leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “There’s my girl.” She smiled. It was a sad smile, but still a smile, and turned her head to the man beside me. “Hello, Dean.”

“Morning, Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” Dean politely acknowledged them.

He seemed uncomfortable, and I didn’t blame him.

“Mary, dear,” she corrected him.

He smiled. “Well, I better go,” he said, and turned to me. “If you need a ride home, I can come get you,” he offered, but Dad shut him down.

“I can drive my own daughter home,” he barked, and my mom scolded him.

I winced, looking at Dean’s reaction.

This was hurting him, to be here.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He shrugged and shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

I watched him start to move, but I didn’t want him to leave this way.

Not like this.

“Do you want to see him before you go?” I asked.

Dean turned around and shifted on his feet, uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“There was a time when you loved him too,” I said. As I held my hand out to him, he took it.

“Your father and I will be in the house when you’re ready, sweetheart,” Mom said, ushering my dad inside. “You two take your time.”

“It was nice to see you, Mary.” Dean looked to my dad. “Jon.”

My dad just nodded, but mom smiled. “You too, honey.”

We waited until the front door closed behind them.

We walked hand-in-hand around the porch and down onto the beach.

The weather had gotten warmer, but the water was still cold and the breeze gave a chill.

“Do you visit him often?” Dean asked.

I nodded. “Whenever I come home.”

He was quiet for a minute or two before speaking again. “It was hard leaving your family when I left. They were good to me. I loved them.”

“I know.” I squeezed his hand. “They know that too.”

He sighed.

Dean’s soul was wrecked with guilt, much in the way my father's was.

Such heavy burdens on the shoulders of great men.

“I told them about Alycia,” I said, and he smiled.

He loved his daughter.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

We walked in silence the rest of the way down the beach.

The waves lapped against the shore, their steady sound soothing my wounded heart.

We turned down the path, eventually appearing at the willow tree.

Letting go of Dean’s hand, I wandered to the base and knelt in the grass. “I brought someone to see you today,” I whispered.

I felt Dean come up behind me, his hand on my shoulder.

“Be nice to him, okay?” I kissed the flowers in my hands and placed them on the grass. “I love you, Henry.”

“I love you too, Charlie bear.”

Standing, I stepped backwards and watched as Dean approached the spot where I’d just been.

He seemed so unsure.

“Do I just talk?” He looked over his shoulder at me, and I nodded.

“Yeah.” I smiled. “Or you can say nothing.”

“I want to say something,” he said, facing away from me again.

Moving backwards a few paces, I gave them some space.

“Hey, Henry,” he spoke quietly, pressing the palm of his right hand against the willow tree. “It’s Dean.”

I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear him, but the wind carried sound and I listened.

“I don’t know if you remember me, and if you do, I’m not sure you like me much now, but that’s okay. I wouldn’t like me much anymore if I were you either.”

Grief squeezed her talons around my heart.

“Thanks for being there for her when I wasn’t.” He paused. “I know you must miss her… I sure did.” I watched as the back of his hand wiped tears from his face. “You’d be proud of her. You should know she has all the best parts of you.”