Pulling in the circle drive, we walk up to the door, and I walk in with Chrissy’s hand in mine. “Dad!” I yell, and the smell of his spaghetti sauce greets us.

“In here,” my dad calls out from the kitchen. Chrissy tugs my arm, and I peer down at her smiling, encouraging face. Bending down, I sneak a kiss and bring her my way.

My dad’s in the kitchen with a pot on the stove, and his reading glasses on while he measures some form of herbs. “Hey, Edge,” he says, never looking over. Chrissy releases a small huff upon hearing my nickname. It clearly disgusts her the same amount as me.

“Dad,” I repeat, and he glances from the corner of his eye and then turns all the way around. His eyes dart to our tangled hands and then up to our faces.

“Well … it’s nice to see you, Chrissy.” He slyly tries to raise his eyebrows my way, but it doesn’t work, because Chrissy giggles under her breath a little. “What brings you two here?” He drops the herbs into the sauce and mixes it around with a spoon.

We take a seat at the table. “I need to talk to you,” I say, my knee bouncing until Chrissy places her hand on me to quiet the nerves.

“Okay.” My dad takes off his reading glasses, placing them on the counter, and then sits down at the table.

“Dad, I can’t help anymore.” I spit it out, and Chrissy squeezes my hand in encouragement. This is why I needed her here, because I’d never have the balls otherwise.

“Chrissy, do you mind giving us a minute?” My dad stares her way, and she begins to stand up, but I grab her hand.

“She stays, Dad,” I say.

“Edge,” he warns with a cocked head and piercing eyes.

“She stays.” I remain firm, and Chrissy sits down again.

“Mr. Prescott, Dex told me, and you know you don’t have to worry.” She starts speaking and that’s the last thing I need right now unfortunately. Her to fight my battles with my dad.

“Oh, did he?” my dad comments, nodding to himself.

“I don’t enjoy it, Dad.” I stare over at Chrissy and back to my dad. “I just won’t put us in jeopardy anymore.”

My dad relaxes a little and leans back in his chair. Pointing between us, he says, “You two are together?”

I look at Chrissy, our eyes connect, and we smile at one another. Our love too strong to not be leaking out from our eyes. “Yeah,” I tell him.

He stands up and walks to the pot on the stove. Chrissy continues to dart her eyes between him and me. The silence of what he’s thinking or how he’ll react inducing anxiety. “Okay, Edge.” He never turns around, but continues stirring the pot. Then he gives his attention to Chrissy. “Can I steal him for just a moment, Chrissy?” She nods of course. “Would you watch the sauce so it doesn’t boil over?”

“Sure, Mr. Prescott.” She stands, and I kiss her forehead before following my dad downstairs to the basement.

At the bottom, he leads me over to the table, and I take a seat in the chair while he deals me some cards for blackjack. Who else can say any conversation with their father usually happens while playing a card game? He deals the cards, and, as I give him the hit-me motion, he asks the question I figured he would pick first. “You love her?”

Placing my hand out to stay, I answer, “Yeah. I do.”

He deals himself two more cards before standing. We flip, and I win. Re-shuffling, he deals them again. “You’re positive?”

“Yeah,” I answer, and this time he wins when I bust.

“That’s all I need to know. This life isn’t for everyone, and I know you’ve always been hot and cold with it. You’ll be getting your degree soon.” He puts the cards away and comes around clapping me on the back. Conversation over and he’s accepted it, the weight that’s been pounding in my stomach all day let’s up. “You have options I never did.”

When we ascend the stairs, Chrissy’s shutting the lid on the pot. When her gaze finds us, I give her a small nod, and she smiles, just as happy as me that it’s over and my dad has accepted the news. “The sauce smells amazing, Mr. Prescott,” she compliments him.

Going over, he puts his arm around her shoulders. “Take care of my boy.” She leans into his side, and he kisses the top of her head. “I always had a feeling about you two.”

“Thanks, Mr. Prescott.” She beams over to me, and I walk over to drag her away.

“She’s mine,” I joke, and my dad laughs.

“She always has been,” he murmurs and goes back to his simmering sauce. “You two going to stay for dinner?” he asks, and I glance to Chrissy for the answer.

“If you’ll have us,” she remarks, and the word us brings warmth to my body, that I have my dad and my girl.

AFTER THE USUAL amazing meal of Dex’s dad’s spaghetti sauce and pasta, Dex and I leave hand and hand. I’m still shocked that we’re a couple, something I had wished for but that I never expected to come true.

“So, we’ll see you later. Don’t be strangers you two.” Mr. Prescott embraces me and I’m reminded how he was more of a fatherly figure to me than my own too many times in my life.

“We won’t,” Dex tells him and shakes his dad’s hand after I’m released.

“Thank you for dinner,” I graciously say and he swipes his hand through the air.

“You’re welcome anytime.” He smiles but something catches his attention behind me and a sour look quickly replaces his content one. “What are you doing here?” That sweet, calmed male voice turns harsh and curt.

Dex and I flip our heads around at the same time before Dex shuffles me behind him, blocking me from his vision. The vision of the man who completely messed up my life. As angry as I feel, it saddens me witnessing him so disheveled—greasy hair, wrinkled clothes, bearded unkempt facial hair. It may be the worst I’ve ever encountered him.

“You need to leave.” Dex’s one hand is placed on my hip to keep me protected behind him.

“Chrissy,” my dad’s meekly voice pleads to me, but I’m unsure how to react. A part of me wants nothing more than to take him and fix him back up like I have my whole life. Try to make him better, get clean. But I remind myself, it will only be temporary.

“Don’t,” Dex warns him, backing us up further away from him.

“She’s my daughter,” my dad counters, but Dex shakes his head.

“Stay the fuck away from her. What you did? I swear—”

“Calm down, Dex.” Mr. Prescott steps forward, sandwiching my father between the two of us. “Zeke, what are you doing here, man?” My dad twists his head to Mr. Prescott’s voice.

Ignoring us, he gives Dex’s dad his sole attention. “I need your help, Theo.”

“I can’t help you. It’s time you do something for yourself.” He crosses his arms and widens his stance. Dex still won’t let me by him, but his arm has dropped from my hip.

“I’m ruined. No one will even give me a chance to win anything to pay back what I owe. Nico won’t stop coming after me—”

“You gave up your own damn daughter. What the hell is wrong with you?” Mr. Prescott yells and my dad hangs his head down low. I cringe at the words spoken out loud. My face reddens from embarrassment for myself.

“I know. It was a moment of weakness—” my dad tries to spit out, but Mr. Prescott grabs him by his shirt and yanks him so they are mere inches apart.

“I don’t give a fuck. She’s your God damn daughter for fuck’s sake. There’s no excuse for what you did.” Mr. Prescott releases his grip and my dad falls to the ground. I fight the urge to run to him and pick him up.

“I’m sorry. He offered it up and I agreed.” My dad turns to me with pleading eyes. Pleading for what I’m not sure. Help maybe, but one thing is for sure, I don’t see much of a plea for forgiveness in them.

I slide to the side of Dex but he holds his arm around the front of my body as though he’s my own gate to get through. “I need to do this,” I whisper and wait for his eyes to look down at mine. After a few seconds he nods, but with every step I make, he matches it.