Until You (The Redemption, #1)(25)

“Okay, smart alecks.” He sighs but there is no frustration in it. Just resignation that he is never going to live anything down, and he might secretly like it. “Up to your rooms. The pizza should be here soon.”

“Pizza?” Addy asks.

“You ordered pizza?” Paige parrots.

“I did. Yes. Call me the lazy dad.”

“No way. That’s not lazy. That’s awesome.” Addy grabs her balloons.

“House rule is we only get to eat out once a week,” Paige says to me. “This will be twice.” She turns to Crew. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Clearly I’m not,” Crew says drolly. “Go get changed before I change my mind. And whoever leaves a wet towel on the floor doesn’t get any.”

“Yes, sir,” Paige says before bolting up the porch stairs, but I notice Addy hanging back, fingers twisting while rocking back on her heels.

So does Crew. “What’s up, kiddo?”

She rolls her eyes at the term but also lights up at it too. And when Crew realizes she wants to say something to him, he moves over to her and squats down in front of her.

“What’s wrong, Add?” he asks softly.

“I really want to go to these lessons.” Her eyes dart my way, followed by a nervous smile. “But I won’t know anyone. What if I’m not as good as them? What if—”

“You’re going to be awesome,” Crew murmurs. “You rock the studio back home.”

Addy just looks at him and nods.

“I’ll sit there at every lesson if you want. Trust fall.”

Her smile is hesitant but stronger. “Trust fall,” she says back to him, her spine a little straighter now.

And just like that, I feel like a voyeur with these two, but I’m in the same space so it’s not like I can avoid hearing the conversation.

“That’s my girl. Now go get changed,” Crew says and ruffles her hair.

“Dad.” She bats his hand away. “Stop. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

He chuckles but stands with his hand on the railing and watches as she runs up the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to cause a problem with—”

“It’s not a problem at all. It’s just Addy being Addy. She’s super outgoing, but she doubts herself when it comes to dance. All she needs is a little reassurance and then she’s good to go.”

“You sure? I can get her something else instead—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Okay.” Trust fall. I wonder how that started. “Trust fall? What does that mean? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s silly really, but . . . it serves its purpose.” Crew scrubs a hand through his hair and chuckles. “When everything happened with their mom, they struggled for a while. We had a rough couple of weeks at one point, and one night to try and change things up, I got this ridiculous idea to do trust falls in the family room.”

“You mean like—”

“Yes, I mean like they fall back and trust that I will catch them kind of trust falls.” He shrugs. “While it was silly and ended up being the first time I heard them really laugh in what felt like forever, I was also trying to prove a point to them. That no matter what happens, they can trust that I’ll always be there for them.”

“That you’ll always catch them if they fall,” I whisper as my heart swells in my chest.

He nods. “Exactly. I’m a guy. I don’t have fancy words or know how to say things to girls, but I knew how to show them that I wouldn’t let them fall . . . whether it be trying something new or simply figuring out how to deal with what life had thrown at them. So now it’s become our thing when I want them to know I’m there. That I’ve got them in case they need me too.”

I simply stare at Crew, enamored at how hard he tries to be a good father. At how much I would have killed for my parents to have an iota of his drive to be better and do better for his girls.

He reaches out and runs a hand down my arm, effectively lighting every nerve ending on fire. “Thank you again for the gifts. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t. I wanted to give them something they love and a place where they can become better at it. Plus, I thought it might give you a little break from being on the clock.”

He lowers his head for a beat and nods. “It’s appreciated. The thoughtfulness. You trying to help. I promise I didn’t unload everything on you the other day to make you feel responsible to help fill in for their mom.”

“Oh my God.” I hold my hands up. “I promise I wasn’t trying to take her place.” I put the heel of my hand against my forehead. Is that what it looked like I was doing?

“No. Tennyson. I didn’t think you were. I just wanted you to know that . . . hell, I don’t even know what I wanted you to know if I’m honest.” He sits down in the chair beside me, and leans back, his towel still clutched against his abdomen as he does.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we? Both apologizing when—”

“When there’s nothing to apologize for,” he finishes for me with a half-cocked ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Yes. Something like that.” I smile. I suddenly have more interest than I should in the paint chipping off my fingernails. “Look. These gifts weren’t meant to burden you with more obligations. My plan was to take them to their lessons. To give you a respite of sorts . . . if you want.”