Page 31 of The Second Dance

I cannot figure out what he wants from me.

Without quite realizing it, tears build in my eyes, threatening to spill over.

I won’t let him see the effect he has on me.

Not again.

Wrenching back, I plant my hands on his chest and shove him.

Hard.

He stumbles back a step, looking down at me with a mixture of surprise and sheepishness. “Andy… I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

I keep my head down, fervently hoping he can’t see the tears in my eyes.

“Just go back inside, Bo.” I say, proud of how clear my voice sounds.

Taking advantage of the space I created, I haul my car door open and slip inside.

It’s not until I’m driving down the road and he’s in the rearview that I let those tears spill over.

17.

Bo

It’s a beautiful Spring morning. Sunny and clear, if a bit chilly.

But all I can think about is how much my damn fingers hurt.

I walk into the kitchen, cupping one hand under the other to catch the blood.

Dad looks over his phone briefly. “I hope you didn’t get blood on the rug.”

“The rug is fine. Jury’s still out on my hand.” I shuffle to the cupboard where we keep the first aid kit.

I manage to pull it down onto the counter, but then I’m left with the conundrum of how to open the kit without bleeding all over it.

“I’ll bet fifty bucks you were thinking about that girl when you did that.”

He’s right. “Not now, dad.”

I move over to the paper towel roll and awkwardly pull a handful loose.

“Look at this.” Dad chuckles, holding up his phone.

Forming a makeshift bandage of paper towels, I peer at his screen. It’s a picture of Cody at a Husker basketball game. He’s with his frat ‘brothers’ and they’ve all painted their chests red.

Dad’s chuckling to himself. “Chip off the old block.”

The front doorbell rings. He holds up his phone, showing me the video feed from our front door. “It’s your girlfriend.”

I give him a look, holding out my hand.

He gives his head a little shake. “I already told you I’m done with the bird shit. Deal with her or tell her to go away. I don’t give a damn. Heather can’t keep yanking my chain.”

I watch him shuffle into the den. Muttering to myself, I make my way to the front door. I’m not sure I’m ready to see Andy. I need to apologize. I just don’t know what to say.

There’s a mountain of apologies I owe her. Where would I even start?