Page 47 of Ice Cold Heart
I picked up my phone, but before I could send out an SOS, Dad knocked on my door. When I opened it, he held up a white bag with big grease stains on the side.
“Biscuit sandwiches from Pancake Shack.”
I eyed the bag with suspicion. “That place by the empty strip mall?”
“That’s the one,” he grunted. “Come eat breakfast with me.”
It wasn’t phrased as a request. I’d normally decline the chance to spend time with him, but the scent of bacon and carbs was slowly wafting into my room.
“Okay.”
He nodded once and headed toward the stairs without looking back. I pursed my lips and followed at a slower pace, carrying my phone. Marco was only a text message away if I needed a second escape this morning.
Dad set the bag on the dining table and gathered plates from the kitchen.
“What’s the occasion?” I asked, perching at the edge of my usual chair.
He waited until he’d returned and taken his seat to respond. “I wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”
“Christmas?” I repeated.
“Are you planning to spend the day with your mom?” He glanced at me as he set a paper-wrapped sandwich on both plates.
A laugh burst out of me. “No. Those bridges are smoldering ashes.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I haven’t done much the last few years, but I thought we could pull the tree out, maybe put up some decorations. I bought a ham.”
Shock stole my appetite. “You want to decorate for Christmas?”
“With you,” he added around a mouthful of biscuit.
Today couldn’t get any stranger. Not only had he not mentioned my disappearance last night, but he wanted to do a family bonding thing? What the hell was happening? No matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t see the manipulation. To top if off, a faint flush crept up his ears as if he were embarrassed by his offer.
I tilted my head, studying him. “Why?”
He cleared his throat. “I missed a lot of years with you.”
As usual, his explanation didn’t explain much. Christmas was in two days, and I hadn’t planned to do anything except watch cheesy Hallmark movies. The newspaper offices were closed along with the rest of campus, and as of this morning, I was putting some distance between me and Cole. I should probably tell him that.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “We can decorate your tree.”
He nodded again and went back to his sandwich. Truly, a thrilling conversation. I took a bite without thinking, and my eyes nearly rolled back in my head. Holy crap, Dad had good taste in breakfast sandwiches. Once again, I should probably tell him that.
“This is good, thanks.”
The flush returned, and he offered me a rare smile. It felt like someone hit me in the chest with a pillowcase full of bricks. I hated how much his approval still affected me. Twelve years should have been long enough to stifle the need, but here I was with the burn of tears in the back of my eyes. My therapist was going to love this.
We ate in relative silence until my phone buzzed with a message. Dad glanced at it, but didn’t comment. It was either Cole or Marco, and I’d only snuck out on one of them this morning. I prayed the heat I felt in my cheeks wasn’t obvious to my dad, but his brows rose like he could read my mind.
“How’s the tutoring going?”
“Fine. Cole is really intelligent, and honestly, he could do this without my help. He just needed someone to show him a different way to study.” I was rambling because I didn’t want to check the message with Dad staring at me. “We’re about a quarter of the way through his assignments for the class.”
“It was nice of Melanie to give him the work early.”
I jolted at his first name basis with Cole’s professor, but of course, he’d been coaching at TU for years. He’d know the faculty, especially the ones his players interacted with. My reporter senses were tingling with the urge to ask more questions, but another message came through.
“Go ahead and check it. I don’t mind.”