Page 94 of Chasing Home
I stare at the ceiling and blink back the tears I refuse to cry. If I thought knowing that he chose to ignore my existence hurt, finding out that he chose to have another daughter instead leaves me so devastated I grow numb.
The only thing on my mind as I turn and leave is that despite the pain in my chest, I know that I won’t ever be content again without knowing every little bit of my family’s past that’s been kept from me my entire life.
Starting with Wanda Rose.
Four days after our conversation with Eliza and Wade, Johnny waves off our Uber driver before meeting me on the curb. The weather is shit in Toronto today. Storm clouds rumble with thunder above us, and despite the umbrella I’m holding above our heads, the wind throws the rain in our faces.
“Is this one of your bad omens?” I ask him through my clacking teeth.
“It’s just the weather, darlin’.”
“Nothing is just something to you.”
His hand finds my back, giving it an upward stroke. “I left all that in Cherry Peak. The only thing I know here is that you’re going to be okay. Rainstorm or no. Okay?”
“I don’t believe you.”
He takes the umbrella from my hand and ushers us away from the curb. Traffic is crazy here, and for my first time in Toronto—Ontario in general—I would like to not get sprayed by muddy road water. Especially not when I put on my nicest pair of jeans and a soft pink blouse that I packed in my suitcase on a whim thinking I’d never wear but brought just in case. My appreciation for his small gestures of care grows before getting chomped on by the giant, fanged jaws of my fear.
The building behind us is massive. It has to be, considering Lee’s staying on the thirty-fifth floor. The penthouse, Wanda said. Of fucking course it is.
For the hundredth time since boarding the plane here, I swallow the vomit that tries to come up and curl my hands into fists in the pockets of my burrowed jacket. My fidgeting expels a cloud of Johnny’s cologne from the collar of it, and it’s almost as good as it is straight from his body.
Johnny tucks my hair behind my ear and smooths a finger along my jaw, staring down at me with an intensity that would have had me taking off in the opposite direction a month ago.
“We don’t have to do this, Rory. Nobody is going to force you to walk inside this building and see him. I sure as fuck won’t. But if you still want to, I’ll be right here with you until you tell me to get lost. If you want to leave right now, we can find a bakery, and I’ll order you as many cinnamon rolls as you want.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at the last part, yanking a laugh from deep within my chest.
“I’ve only told you about my love of cinnamon rolls once.”
It was a piece of information he learned two days ago when Eliza walked into the office during lunch with a tray full of warm, freshly baked ones with dripping cream cheese icing. I scarfed down two right then and there, and the both of them haven’t let me live it down since.
“Doesn’t matter. I listen to everything you say, especially when it comes to your favourite things. It was hard not to notice how much you love them when you had icing smeared all over your lips and were moaning up a storm.”
I shut my eyes and lean against his body, burying my face in the collar of his jacket. He cups the back of my head and scratches my scalp, holding me there.
“I need to call my mom,” I murmur before I can think better of it. The urge has been building for weeks but has grown worse over the past couple of days. Our lack of contact has been sitting on my conscience like a big fat reminder of how petty I can be when I’m upset. It’s a terrible feeling. “I should have called her a million times by now. We’ve never gone this long without speaking. I was . . . I was punishing her for keeping this all from me with the silent treatment.”
“Do you want to talk to her before we go in?”
I shake my head. “She’d tell me to turn around and go home. That I’m worth more than begging a man to care about me, father or not. I’d listen to her this time.”
“She sounds like a smart woman,” he says gently, his blunt nails continuing to work my scalp.
“Do you think I should leave? Am I making a mistake here?”
“I think that you’ve already come this far and that you know exactly what you want from this conversation already. That’s going to keep you tough. You’re not going to allow him to stomp all over you. That’s not who you are, Rory. You don’t take shit from anyone. Your tenacity is one of the things I love most about you.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes as I nod, exhaling a month’s worth of fear into his chest. “You’re right. I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my life, let alone affection. I’m not going to start now.”
“That’s my girl.”
Tipping my head back, I find him already looking down at me, the soft blue of his eyes making my heart beat a bit too fast. It’s always like this when I’m around him. My skin prickles with his closeness, and my heartbeat takes off. It grows easier to smile and be myself. I feel like I can be proud of who I am, flaws and all, in a way that I could never accept before. It’s not that I need him to believe in myself, but maybe it’s that I want to more than I do without him.
Anti-social, nervous, blunt. They’re all qualities that I used to worry made me unlikable to people. They made me wonder if the reason I never had many friends or romantic relationships was because of things that I say or do. But now? Now, I don’t care if me being myself turns people off.
Johnny’s never judged me for who I am. Not once.