Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

“I love you, too.”

We stay like that for a long moment, each of us seeming to revel in this much-needed cease-fire. Eventually, I pull back and sit on the floor in front of him, cross-legged.

“Can you play me the song again?” I ask him. “And the one for Memphis, too?”

He gives me that barely-there smile and then picks the guitar back up and begins to play.

Eventually, he passes the guitar to me and asks me to play him something I’ve written. A song that means something to me.

So I play him the song I sang for Wes in the car the night of his anxiety attack.

My father has questions in his eyes when I finish, but he doesn’t ask them. Instead, he just nods and tells me he thinks I’m very talented.

I can’t expect him to suddenly be a completely different person. He’s not the talkative guy who is going to ask a million questions, and it’ll take a long time before things between us feel more natural. Easy.

But I’ll take this middle ground we seem to have found.

I’ll take it every damn day.

I ruminate on our interaction for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, long after he’s gone back to work and I’ve found myself out at the bench, waiting for Wes. I think about what my dad said about my mom, and himself.

What he said about me.

Our relationship is far from perfect, but just like with Memphis, there is a path to reconciliation with my father now. Something I’ve never imagined was possible in the past.

I’m not sure exactly what prompted him to come to me. Maybe it was finding out about Humble Roads and assuming I might be leaving again. It’s the only thing I can think of that might be an answer.

Regardless, I’m glad he did it. And I can only hope that it was the first brick in a large wall that desperately needs to come down.

“Hey.”

I turn at the sound of Wes’s voice, and I can’t help the smile that crosses my face at the sight of him.

He takes a seat next to me and leans in, pressing his lips against mine in a way that is both gentle and purposeful. Like he knows exactly how he wants to kiss me. It sends a shiver down to my toes, and I revel in it, to the point where I almost moan at the loss when he pulls back.

“How’s the writing coming?” He props an arm along the back of the bench.

I chuckle. “I haven’t written anything today.”

Wes laughs, too. “I thought the whole point of you staying here today was so you could write. You mean you could have come with me?”

Shaking my head, I keep plucking at the strings. “Nope. I ended up hanging out with my dad for a little bit.”

The expression Wes gives me makes me laugh again.

“I know. I wasn’t expecting it, either.”

I explain what happened, and Wes lets out a long whistle when I’m finished.

“Sounds like you had a different kind of productive day.”

“I really did.”

“Well, I’m sure that Todd guy isn’t waiting by his computer for you to send him anything.”

Snorting, I shake my head at him. “Why do you always call him ‘that Todd guy’?”

Wes just grins. “Because it makes you laugh, every time.”