I have to admit that I’m a little nervous to meet Mia’s father.

Fuck, I’ve seen some shit in my time. I’ve seen men hurt badly, blown apart, shot and killed. I’ve done some of those things myself. I killed a man with my bare hands at least once, and I’ve used a knife more times than I can count. I’ve been in horrible situations, witnessed horrible things, and very rarely felt nervous.

Alzheimer’s is a horrible disease. I know her father is probably pretty far gone. I did some research and have a general idea of what to expect, but I’m still nervous anyway.

I pull up outside of her house and park. I drove slow and paused a minute to let her get her things together. The pasta in my bag smells delicious, and there’s plenty for all of us, but I suddenly feel like it’s inadequate. I don’t know why.

Maybe it’s because I haven’t met a woman’s parents in a long, long time. I knew her father a little bit when I was younger, but this is going to be different. He won’t be the man that I remember, although that man is still there. I have to treat him with dignity, but be prepared for the reality of the disease.

I watch as a middle-aged woman leaves the house dressed in scrubs. She gets into a little Honda and drives off. I assume that’s the nurse heading home, and so I take that as my cue to go inside.

I go to the door and knock. Mia answers after a second, changed from work clothes into a short jean skirt and a loose top.

“Come on in,” she says.

I follow her into the living room.

“It’s exactly how I remember it,” I say, laughing a little.

“Not exactly, I bet, but close.” She shrugs a little bit. “I haven’t changed anything at all. Just haven’t felt up to it.”

“I totally understand that.”

“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. Dad’s in there already.”

I nod and follow her. Mia’s father is sitting at the kitchen table.He’s wearing a brown cardigan, gray slacks, and thick slippers. His hair is white and frizzy, and his skin is wrinkled. His eyes seem glassy when he looks up.

“Dad, do you remember Lucas?”

Her father looks at me.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Hayes.”

He looks at me for a moment and then looks back down at the table.

“He’s mostly nonverbal,” Mia explains. “It’s common in this stage. Sometimes he talks though, but not usually.”

“Should I get this stuff ready?”

She nods. “That’d be great.”

“Can he eat pasta?”

“Pasta is good, actually. Soft foods are easiest.”

I go over to the kitchen counter, get down some plates, and start setting up. I set a plate for Mia and her father and then for myself before putting out utensils and then placing the takeout containers of food down in the middle.

Mia serves her father first, putting a small amount of simple linguine with red sauce on his plate. “Okay, Dad, hungry?” she asks.

I sit down and watch quietly. She picks up a fork, twists a bit onto it, and then places her father’s hand on the end. He takes the fork and raises it to his mouth. He puts it in his mouth, slides it off, chews slowly, and swallows.

“Very good,” she says, smiling. “That’s great. More?”

Her father looks at her blankly. She does this again, getting very small amounts of food, and letting him feed himself.

She looks at me. “You can eat if you’re hungry.”

“Sorry. I’m staring.”

She smiles and shrugs. “It’s okay. Dad doesn’t mind. Do you mind, Dad?”

He looks down at his plate.

“Of course you don’t,” Mia says. “I’m sure you like the company.”

“How’s the food, Mr. Hayes?” I ask him.

Mia smiles. “It’s good, I bet.” She helps him have another bite.

I get myself some food and take a bite. It’s actually pretty good. I serve Mia a plate as well and she accepts it gratefully. I can tell that she won’t eat until her father is finished though, so I wait for her.

We feed her father. Well, she feeds him, or at least helps him while I talk to them. I tell them about my day at the flower shop, and I make sure I talk directly to Mr. Hayes. I don’t ignore him and pretend like he’s not there. All the while Mia helps her father eat, and makes comments for him.

She’s so gentle with him and attentive. She wipes his mouth when he needs it and is very careful when she hands him the fork each time. He chews mechanically, but I can tell she’s paying close attention to make sure he doesn’t choke.

Soon, the plate is nearly done, and when she goes to give him another bite, he doesn’t take the fork.

“Are you done, Dad?” she asks.

He looks at her. For a second, I think he’s going to speak, but then he looks back down at the plate. She tries to get him to take it again, but he refuses.

She helps him drink some water and then cleans him up.

“Ready for some TV, Dad?” she asks.

He looks at her. She helps him stand slowly and leads him out to the living room. I clear his plate and rinse it off as the sound of Jeopardy! comes from the television out there.

Mia returns and comes up to me. I turn around and she puts her arms around me, pulling me against her, and kisses me deeply.

I’m surprised by the kiss, but it feels good. It’s not like our other kisses. This one is warm, comforting. The hunger is there, but so is something else, something deeper.

We break off and she smiles. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “You’re good with him.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit.

“You’re talking to him like a person. That’s more than most people.”

I shrug a little bit, embarrassed. “Let’s eat,” I say.

“Sounds good.”

We sit back down and dig in. She gets up and checks on her father every few minutes, but mostly we chat about her day. There is some tension between us, and obviously we’re trying not to talk about what happened the night before, but it’s hard to completely ignore. It’s there, under everything we say.

When we finish, I clear the table while she sits with her father in the living room. Once I’m done doing the dishes and cleaning up, I join them just as Wheel of Fortune starts.

I sit down next to Mia and she leans up against my shoulder. “This is what we do most nights,” she says. “He’s having a good night.”

“It’s actually kinda nice,” I say.

She shrugs a little. “I guess so. He seems to like it.” She’s talking quietly, and I doubt he can hear.

“You’re a good daughter. You know that?”

“I guess.”

I take her chin and look at her. “Seriously. He’s proud of you.”

She nods once and looks away. We watch Wheel of Fortune together, and for a second I forget about all my troubles and all the strange problems swirling around us.

It’s such a boring and simple moment, but it’s incredibly intimate. This is her routine with her sick father, the man she’s taking care of, and I’m suddenly a part of it. I’m an outsider looking in, but that doesn’t seem to matter. There’s a comfortable silence over the room, and I think that Mia is actually happy.

When the show is over, Mia stands up. “Come on,” she says.

“Where are we going?”

“I need to give my dad a bath and put him to bed.”

I nod, understanding. “Time to kick me out.”

She grins a little. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I get up. “This was really nice.”

We walk together to the front door. She comes outside with me and sits down on one of the two blue rocking chairs they have out front. I sit down in the other one.

“We should talk for a second,” she says, and I know what it’s about.

“We don’t need to.”

“Lucas, you need to know something.” She bites her lip and looks down at the ground. “You don’t know how hard this is.”

I want to reach for her hand, but I hesitate. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“But it is.” She looks at me, frowning, and I can tell there’s something unspoken in her expression. “Last night scared me.”

“I know. That fucking asshole had it coming though.”

“He did. But he has a lot of power in this town.”

“Fuck his power,” I say, feeling my anger rising. “He doesn’t get to do whatever he wants just because he has money.”

“But he does,” she says. “It’s not right, but he does.”

“I won’t live like that.” I stare at her, not looking away.

“Lucas…”

“No, listen to me. I won’t live that way. I won’t be afraid of some rich assholes just because they have money and think they’re better than everyone else. I won’t do it.”

“I don’t know if we can keep doing this.” She stares right at me, but I can sense the pain in her.

That sentence strikes me right in the chest. It feels like that boot when I was down on the ground last night. I meet her gaze but have to look away for a second.

“If that’s how you feel,” I say, standing.

“Lucas—“

“You don’t have to say anything else.”

“You don’t understand.” She’s on the verge of crying, but I’m angry.

“I’m not like the Carters,” I say to her. “And I won’t let them push us around. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“But I do,” she says simply. She’s holding her tears back now, but I can see them.

“I’ll see you later,” I say to her, and start walking away.

“Lucas!” she says, but I don’t turn back. I know there’s more she wants to say, but I can’t hear it. I feel too angry and torn to have this conversation with her. I know that if I stay there, I might say something I’ll regret. I might admit how I feel and get my heart broken completely.

I hurry to my truck, get in, and start the engine. Mia is still on her porch, watching as I pull away.

I don’t know what the hell that was back there. But I do know that the Carters are behind it somehow. She wants me and I know she’s feeling the same way that I am, even if she keeps backing off.

It’s those fucking Carters. Anger rolls through me again in waves, but I don’t know what I’m going to do.

I’m going to have Mia. That’s all there is to it. Right now she’s afraid, but she can’t deny her feelings forever. I don’t know when or how, but she’ll see this is right. I’ll have her, make her feel things she never imagined.

I’ll break those fucking Carters, and I’ll take the woman that I need.