Sinner (Shelter Harbor #1)(172)

I sigh and drop my eyes to the floor. “Probably not, honey.”

“Why?”

Because she’s gone. Because she peeked behind the curtain of my bullshit and saw the nothing she wanted to be a part of. Because I kept something from her I had no right keeping from her. Because I broke basically every single one of my rules with her, and now that she’s gone, I’m not even sure how to go about rebuilding.

“Dad?”

“Serena had to go home, honey.”

Her face falls. “What?”

“She had to go home, back to Houston.”

“No! Why?” Emily’s bottom lip sticks out as her brow wrinkles.

“I-” I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I lie.

“But I thought she was going to be my friend!”

“I know. I’m sorry kiddo.”

Emily buries her face in my arms, as I pull her tight.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I stroke my daughter’s hair. “What if we started a movie. Think that might help?”

She nods in my arms.



Twenty-minutes and two ensemble Disney songs later, she’s sound asleep next to me on the couch.

I turn off the TV and scoop her up gently into my arms before I head upstairs to tuck her in.

“Night, honey,” I whisper, kissing her forehead before tiptoeing out of her room and closing the door.

Back downstairs, I sink into the couch again, the ache I’ve been trying to hold back for her sake finally tearing its way out.

Fuck.

I don’t know how this happened, but here it is, and there’s no pretending that the tightness in my chest isn’t there.

This was good, for a while - this little bubble I had set up for myself. Emily and my job - that’s it. As long as I filled my time with just that, there was never any room for anything else.

And yet somehow, I made room. Somehow, I rearranged. I adapted. I opened up and let in the girl I never saw coming. The girl I never wanted to see coming. And now that she’s gone, she’s the only thing I want to see.

I broke the rules. I ignored the signs, and the warnings that I set up for myself long ago, and now I’m feeling what I never wanted to feel again.

Loss.

I push my fingers through my hair, letting my breath out.

Except that’s bullshit. Breaking the rules, letting go, and letting her in didn’t lead to this pain. Shutting down did. Closing her back out did. Letting her in changed something in me, and brought something to light inside of me that I’d honestly decided was going to stay dark. She’s the good thing and the second chance I’d been running away from for years, and now that I finally wised up and stopped running, she’s blown right past me.

I made my career and my name as a player by never backing down. No matter how hard the fight, not matter how bad the odds, you do not stop. You never quit. You never take a knee and let the clock run dry.

You fight.

You lay your heart out and spill your blood on that field.

I did the same with the rest of my life. When I was shattered, my whole life breaking around me, that was the same mindset I cemented inside. Because I had to, for Emily. Never quit. Never lie down and let the world break you.

I did it the first day I walked into that boardroom, every face in the room giving me a skeptical look and just waiting for me to fail, or waiting for me to be the dumb jock they all thought I’d be.

Never say can’t. Never say “it’s too hard.” Never stop fighting.

And I didn’t.

Except somehow, I’ve let that go. Here I am, beat down but not beaten, but I’m letting myself be beat. Lamenting about the shit hand I’ve been dealt. Sitting here in the dark shaking my head at the mistakes I’ve made.

Landon Reece, who the fuck are you?

This is letting go.

This is taking a knee.

This is lying down and letting the world break me.

And that ain’t me.

I sit up sharply, my eyes alert, my heart pounding, and my hands clenching at my sides. No, this isn’t over, this is just bad odds. This is fourth quarter with a twenty-point deficit, but it’s not a loss.

Not yet at least.

Because I’ve got one play left. I’ve still got a pint of blood to bleed.

This fight isn’t over.

I’m standing, grabbing my phone and making the call before I can even bother thinking it through. I don’t have to. Not this time. This time, I’m done thinking about it, and sticking to my predefined lines, and staying inside my own little life that I’ve built.

I’m done playing by the rules.

“An hour? Perfect.”

I shove the phone in my pocket as I take the stairs two at a time. I could call a sitter, or a neighbor, but I’m not going to.

This isn’t just about me, after all.