Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

I lean against my dresser, bracing my hands against the edge.

How long have I waited for something like this?

For this . . . olive branch?

Years.

A decade.

The part of me that had given up hope of ever reconciling with my father wants to lash out at him. Reject this kind, sensitive side of him that feels almost unnatural because I’m so unaccustomed to it.

But there’s a little girl inside me who just wants her dad in her life. And if he’s willing to let something shift between us, surely I can, too.

“I’m not going back to LA.”

He blinks a few times, surprise evident on his face.

“I told Todd—he’s the guy from the label—that I would take the job, but that I wanted to be able to work from here.” I cross my arms. “My life in LA … I feel like I’ve finally moved on from it. And there’s no reason that I can’t write from here.”

When my father stays silent, a thought occurs to me that hadn’t before.

“That is … if it’s okay for me to stay.”

He reaches up and scrubs a hand along the edge of his jaw, his eyes aimed at the floor. Then he takes a deep breath and lets it out long and slow.

I don’t know how I’ll feel if he asks me to go. Especially after I’ve finally gotten to a point where I actually want to be here. Wes is here, and that plays a big part in knowing that I’ll be happy in Rosewood.

But he’s not the only reason.

Something in my soul has settled in a way I wasn’t expecting since I moved back.

Maybe it’s a result of finding love.

But I have a feeling it’s just as much about finding myself.

If I hadn’t moved back, I might never have worked through the emotions of what happened in LA. I might never have reconciled with Memphis. I might not have realized how much this vineyard is a part of my past and just how much I want to help it succeed and be at least a small part of my future.

And now, this conversation with my father. Unexpected and yet possibly exactly what I’ve been seeking.

Permission to leave, possibly even encouragement, if he thinks it’ll make me happy.

Right? Isn’t that what he said?

Because really, was I so desperate to leave because I didn’t want to be here? Or because I didn’t want to feel like I had to stay? Like there was no other choice for me.

My mind scrambles over all these little bits, trying to sort them and make sense of them. Trying to suss out all the subtle nuances.

But before I can get too lost in thought, my father finally looks back up at me, and I startle when I see his eyes are glassy.

“I’m sorry, Murph.” His voice is a ragged whisper. “I’m sorry I’ve ever made you wonder if I want you here. I always want you here. But only if you want to be.”

My throat constricts as emotion wells in my chest, and before I can think it all the way through, I’m crossing the room and wrapping my arms around my dad’s shoulders.

I can’t remember the last time we hugged. Something inside me seems to release when his arms wrap around me too, and hold me just as tightly as I’m clinging to him.

“I love you, Murphy.”

I squeeze him tighter.