Lo

“I DON’T LIKE IT, MAVERICK,” I said as I chopped the onion.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. It’s just a stupid hazing game.”

“Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“People keep saying that. I’m not as reckless as you all make me out to be, Lo.” There was a trace of dejection in his voice and I smiled to myself. It was nice to know he was only human. That my opinion and the opinion of others mattered to him.

“You’re cute when you care.”

“London,” he hissed, and I stifled the laugh building in my throat. “Anyway, what are you doing? You sound distracted.”

“I’m making meatballs. Stella and Beth have a thing, so I’m cooking for me and Dad.”

“Good, that’s good. It will be nice for the two of you to spend time together.”

He wasn’t wrong there.

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty pissed at him. I mean, I’m still pissed. But he’s my dad, the only one I’ve got so...” A wave of sadness washed over me, but I shook the thoughts out. Refusing to go there.

“I know. Listen, I should probably go. I wanted to check out the library again before tonight.”

“The library? My, how you’ve grown, Maverick Prince,” I said around an amused smile.

“Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean I can’t make you squirm.” His words had their desired effect, and I clenched my thighs together.

“I love you; be safe tonight.”

“I will. Don’t worry, I’m not going to let some conceited douchebag ruin my shot at college basketball, I promise. I’ll drink some funky looking shots, streak down the beach, and eat catnip or something.”

I fake gagged down the receiver. “Rather you than me.”

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see. I’ll text you as soon as I can.” He hung up, and I dissected the conversation... because that’s what I did now. Analysed every word, every pause. But Maverick seemed at ease about the initiation. I knew from my brother Elliot that college societies and teams liked to make their new members suffer a little before settling in. It was harmless fun.

So why couldn’t I shake the feeling something bad was about to happen?

My phone vibrated, and I opened the message.

Kyle: Do I need to come over?

I texted Kyle straight back telling him I was fine. I was going to remain here, chopping onions, and then I was going to enjoy a nice dinner with my dad. And I was categorically one-hundred percent not going to worry about Maverick. But then Kyle’s reply came through and as I read his words, all my plans went to shit.

Kyle: If it makes you feel any better, I’m worried too.

Lo: No, it really doesn’t. He’ll be okay, right?

Kyle: This is Prince we’re talking about. It’s not him we need to be worried about, it’s the poor guy who tries to cross him.

He was right. If Zac Lowell brought war to Maverick’s door, I couldn’t imagine a scenario where my overprotective hotheaded boyfriend would come out waving the white flag.

Lo: Shit. What do we do?

Kyle: Nothing, Cous. We do nothing. Prince has to learn to fight his own battles the right way one day. Let’s just hope today is that day.

Lo: It’s only been a few days and I’m already an emotional wreck.

Kyle: That’s love for ya. I’ll check in later, okay?

Lo: Okay and thanks!

Kyle: That’s what family’s for

I pocketed my phone and added the decimated onions to the pan. Dad wouldn’t be home for another hour at least and I needed to keep busy somehow. So I grabbed a pair of gloves from under the sink unit and some cleaning products and went in search of distractions.

~

“WOW, SWEETHEART, THIS looks great.” Dad came over and dropped a kiss on my head. “Did you clean too? I can smell cleaning fluid.”

“I had a little spare time, so I did a few chores.”

“Well, the place looks great, and this is... well, it’s too much, Lo. We could have gone out or ordered in. You didn’t need to go to all this effort.”

“I wanted to.” I checked the sauce and added a pinch more of basil. “It’s almost ready.”

“I’ll just take these to my office and get out of this shirt. Give me ten minutes.”

“Sure thing, Dad.”

He left, and I began plating up the salad and doughballs. By the time he returned, I was ready to serve the meatballs.

“Parmesan?” I asked, and he smiled.

“Throw it on. You know me, Sweetheart, the cheesier the better.”

“Okay, Dad, that just sounded... cheesy.” We both laughed, and it felt good after a tense couple of hours. I’d heard nothing from Maverick, but I expected as much. Zac Lowell had the team on a no-phone rule.

I joined him at the table and for a few seconds, we ate in comfortable silence. It was nice. Doing something as menial as eating a meal together.

“This is really good, Lo. I miss home cooking.” Between the accident and moving to Wicked Bay, home-cooked meals had become a rarity. When we’d lived at the Stone-Prince house, the constant revolving door of people coming and going meant meals were usually reheated leftovers. But when I met his somber expression, I knew what he was saying. He missed Mum’s home cooking.

“I miss it too,” I said, swallowing over the lump in my throat. I didn’t allow myself to go there often, but when I did, the pain took my breath away. Not to mention my appetite.

Dad placed his knife and fork down and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I feel like there are a lot of things I should have done differently over the last twelve months, Sweetheart. But I can’t change the past, I can only try to make it up to you going forward.” He gave me a weak smile. “And I need you to know that I didn’t move Stella and Bethany in without much deliberation.”

“Dad, I—”

I didn’t want to hear this. Not now. Probably not ever. But he continued anyway.

“No, Lo, you need to hear this, please. You’ve grown so much in the last year. You’re smart and brave and so strong. And part of me knows you’re not my little girl anymore. I don’t need to wrap you up in cotton wool and protect you from the world. I’ll be honest, that scares me a little. You’re a young woman now and you’ve earned the right to make your own decisions. You don’t need me anymore and that’s okay. But Stella and Beth, they do need me, and in a strange way, I need to be needed, Sweetheart. When you were... recovering, I felt so helpless, so alone. I didn’t know what to do. Coming back to the States, reconnecting with Stella, it was what I needed at the time. It saved me, Lo, just like I think moving here and meeting Maverick saved you.”

I was speechless.

There was so much wrong with what Dad was saying. So much I wanted to say about how little he knew about what I needed. But deep down, I also knew he had a point, and that was the sad thing about the hand we’d been dealt. I didn’t need him anymore. I hadn’t for a long time.

And that was on me.

After the accident, when I was finally healed, I couldn’t talk to Dad. I couldn’t talk to anyone. Instead, I turned to a toxic relationship and a toxic mix of drugs and alcohol to keep me numb. I shut Dad out. Maybe it was what he represented, or the devastating pain I felt every time I looked at him, but it was me who closed the door on our relationship, not the other way around. So how could I blame him for finding comfort in the words of another.

The truth was, I couldn’t. Mum was gone, and she wasn’t ever coming back, and Stella wasn’t just anyone, she was someone. She was Dad’s first everything. But even now, I struggled to make sense of things. Of his choices. Of mine.

“You’re right,” I said, setting down my own cutlery. “I don’t need you anymore.”

His face blanched, but I went on, “But you’re my dad and I’d like to think you’ll always be around.”

An uncertain smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Lo, Sweetheart, I will always be here. Whenever, however, you need me. I am so proud of you, of all you’ve achieved. I know you’re going to go on and do great things. And I know one day, when you’re ready, you’ll open your heart to Stella and Bethany because that’s just the kind of person you are. You might not think it, Lo, but you have a big heart. You always have. And I don’t think that’s changed.”

I wasn’t so sure, but I gave him a little nod, too choked to reply.

The sound of the front door opening caught my attention and panic filled Dad’s eyes. “I promise, I had no idea they would be home so—”

“Dad, it’s fine.”

“Hello, we’re home,” Stella’s voice floated down the hallway and the pitter patter of Beth’s sandals reached the kitchen.

“Rob, we’re home,” she shrieked, her cute little smile dropping when she noticed me sitting there. Dad lifted her up onto his lap and whispered something in her ear.

“Hi, Beth. I like your bow.” I motioned to the pink bow in her hair.

“Neenaw got it for me.”

“You’re a lucky girl.”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” Stella planted the bags in her arm on the counter. “I didn’t think we’d be home so soon. I hope I didn’t ruin—”

“It’s fine,” I said again. “There are leftovers?” The question flew from my mouth before I had time to consider it.

“Can we, Mom?” Beth said. “I could eat a cat.”

“Horse, sweetie. I think you mean you could eat a horse.”

“Ew, no. I don’t wanna eat a horse.”

Dad chuckled and even I managed a smile.

“Well, if Lo doesn’t mind?” Stella looked to me and I nodded. “It’s fine.”

There was that word again. But once it had meant something else. Something ugly and painful and untrue. It still hurt, but the ache in my chest didn’t leave me as breathless as it once had.

Stella served herself and Beth some leftovers and joined us at the table. I was treading a thin line. Extending an olive branch for something I wasn’t sure I was prepared for. But unlike all the times Dad had pushed her on me, this was on my terms. Maybe it was the meal cooked by my hand or the fact she genuinely seemed embarrassed that she’d interrupted but I felt a shift.

“This looks amazing, Lo, and the smell...” She groaned with approval.

“Paghetti is my favorite,” Bethany said, still sitting on my dad’s lap.

“Well thank the chef,” he said.

“Lo cooked this?”

“I did.” I smiled at her and her eyes went wide.

“Wow.” Her voice was filled with wonder and awe. “Maybe one day you can teach me.”

I caught Dad’s eye and could have sworn I saw unshed tears forming.

“Maybe.”

“Yes!” she said to herself, tucking into her meatballs completely unaware of the awkward tension lingering. Stella took note from her daughter and began to eat in delicate bites. As the two of them enjoyed the meal I’d prepared, Dad and I shared another look only this time, he mouthed, “Thank you.”

Then I knew that despite the urge to flee, to cause a big scene and leave the table, I’d made the right decision.