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I walk over and gaze down at his sleeping form, guilt weighing on me.
Dane was right. My dad is an active guy. Even after Annie, he still took
care of things around here. But I can see the sallow tint to his cheeks and
how rumpled his clothes are, like he’s worn them for more than a day.
My eyes start to burn, and I suddenly want Ryen.
I need her. I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do right now.
I couldn’t get back what I needed from Falcon’s Well, but I’m not sure I
care anymore.
But I don’t want to leave yet, either. I want Ryen, but I also feel like if I
walked out now and left my father for good, Annie would truly be gone.
Any semblance of the life we had before would be a memory.
I lower myself to the ottoman, watching him. His head is turned to the
side, and I spy a pill bottle on the table.
I don’t have to look to know it’s Xanax. My dad’s kept it around for
years, something to take the edge off when raising two kids by himself got
stressful. Honestly, though, I think he started taking it because my mother
left. He’d loved her, and she skipped out. No notes, no calls, no contact. She
left her kids and never looked back.
I dealt with it, my father buried himself in his kids, work, and hobbies
to not think about it, and Annie waited. She always seemed to think our
mom would come back and want to see us eventually. She’d be ready for
her.
I still feel my sister in this house. As if she’s going to walk in the door,
sweaty and out of breath from exercising, and barking orders, reminding me
that it was my night to cook dinner and telling Dad to throw the clothes in
the dryer.
“I miss her, Dad,” I speak low and quiet, despair overtaking me. “She
called me that night.”