Chapter One
There are some moments in life you imagine so many times that, when they finally happen, they feel strangely anticlimactic.
Finding my father had been one of them.
For years, I’d imagined what it would be like to see him.
Sometimes, in those fantasies, he was waiting for me.
Sometimes he was crying.
Sometimes he ran towards me and pulled me into his arms like he’d been waiting eighteen years to get his daughter back.
Sometimes I slapped him.
That one had always been my grandmother’s favourite.
“You’ve got quite the imagination, Lexie.”
I’d told her it wasn’t imagination. It was preparation.
Because when you grow up without a parent, you spend an unreasonable amount of time imagining the person who isn’t there.
My father had been a blank space for most of my life.
Curtis Hoyle. That was his name.
I’d known it since I was old enough to understand what the word father meant.
I’d known he was a Marine.
I’d known my mother had married him young.
I’d known they’d divorced.
I’d known he had gone away after the divorce.
And I’d known that, somehow, he’d never come back.
At least, that was the version I’d been given.
Then my grandmother died.
And suddenly, there was no one left to protect me from the truth.
I was eighteen when I found him.
Twenty-five when I finally moved in with him.
Seven years.
Seven years of learning how to be a daughter to a man who had never learned how to be my father.
Seven years of awkward dinners, uncomfortable silences, missed birthdays, tentative phone calls and slowly discovering that the man I’d spent my entire childhood resenting was, in many ways, just as lost as I was.
It wasn’t a perfect relationship.
It probably never would be.
But it was ours.
And today, for the first time, I was moving into his house.
Not visiting.
Not staying for a weekend.
Moving in.
Which was why I was currently sitting in my car outside his house, staring at the front door like it had personally offended me.
I glanced at the boxes in the back seat.
Books.
Clothes.
A ridiculous number of shoes.
Kitchen things I probably didn’t need.
And a framed photograph of my grandmother that I’d wrapped three times in bubble wrap because the thought of anything happening to it made my stomach twist.
I exhaled.
“Come on, Lexie.”
I reached for the door handle.
Then stopped.
Maybe this was a terrible idea.
I’d spent the last four years at university building a life of my own.
I had my own apartment.
My own routine.
My own friends.
I had learned how to be alone.
And now I was voluntarily moving back in with the father I’d barely known for most of my life.
That sounded incredibly healthy.
I grabbed my phone.
One new message.
Dad: You here?
I smiled despite myself.
Me: Outside.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Dad: Why are you sitting outside?
I looked at the house.
Me: Thinking.
Dad: About what?
I smiled.
Me: Whether I can still turn around and pretend I never told you I was coming.
The response took longer this time.
Dad: Door’s unlocked.
I laughed quietly.
Of course it was.
I got out of the car.
The walk to the front door felt much longer than it actually was.
I knocked anyway.
“Come in.”
I opened the door.
“Dad?”
“Kitchen.”
I followed his voice.
Curtis was standing at the counter, wearing a dark T-shirt and jeans, his back to me while he tried to make something that smelled suspiciously like it had been burned.
I put my bag down.
“That smells awful.”
He turned around.
“Good to see you too.”
I smiled.
He smiled back.
For a second, everything felt easy.
Then he walked towards me and pulled me into a hug.
I froze for half a heartbeat before wrapping my arms around him.
His embrace was awkward.
Not because he didn’t want to hug me.
Because neither of us had ever quite figured out how to do this.
He squeezed me once before letting go.
“How was the drive?”
“Long.”
“Traffic?”
“Terrible.”
“Need anything?”
“I’m hungry.”
“I made dinner.”
I looked towards the kitchen.
“That explains the smell.”
He laughed.
“Very funny.”
“I try.”
He shook his head and returned to whatever he was cooking.
I leaned against the counter.
“So.”
“So?”
“You said you had someone coming over.”
“Traffic?”
“Terrible.”
“Need anything?”
“I’m hungry.”
“I made dinner.”
I looked towards the kitchen.
“That explains the smell.”
He laughed.
“Very funny.”
“I try.”
He shook his head and returned to whatever he was cooking.
I leaned against the counter.
“So.”
“So?”
“You said you had someone coming over.”
“Traffic?”
“Terrible.”
“Need anything?”
“I’m hungry.”
“I made dinner.”
I looked towards the kitchen.
“That explains the smell.”
He laughed.
“Very funny.”
“I try.”
He shook his head and returned to whatever he was cooking.
I leaned against the counter.
“So.”
“So?”
“You said you had someone coming over.”
“Traffic?”
“Terrible.”
“Need anything?”
“I’m hungry.”
“I made dinner.”
I looked towards the kitchen.
“That explains the smell.”
He laughed.
“Very funny.”
“I try.”
He shook his head and returned to whatever he was cooking.
I leaned against the counter.
“So.”
“So?”
“You said you had someone coming over.”
His shoulders stiffened almostimperceptibly.
“Yeah.”
“Who?”
“An old friend.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You have friends?”
“One or two.”
“That’s impressive.”
He gave me a look.
I smiled.
“Who is he?”
“C’mon, Lexie.”
“What?”
“You’ll meet him”
“That’s not an answer” i said.
He sighed “His name is Frank”
Something about the way he said it made me pause “Frank?”
“Frank Castle” he said.
I don’t know why the name was familiar. Maybe dad mentioned him before. It was probably that. I had spent years trying to piece together his life before having me.
“How did you meet him?”
“Military” he responded his tone firm.
“Right” I said
He just nodded back. “He was one of my closest friends”
There was something different on his voice when he said that, not nostalgia but something deeper.
“Is he still on the Marines” I asked.
“No” he turned off the stove. “Not anymore”
I watched carefully. There were some questions that I knew better than to ask. I hadn’t spent years rebuilding my relationship with my father just to relieve some scars that were buried.
“So, he’s coming here”
“Yeah” he said vaguely.
“Tonight?”
He nodded.
I checked the time “That’s convenient”
“What?” My dad frowned.
“I just got here, and you invite someone over”
“I didn’t know exactly when you would arrive”
“You knew” I answered
“I guessed”
I laughed “you’re terrible at this”
“At what?” He asked
“At being a father”
He smiled faintly “I’m still working on it”
The words caught me off. Because there was no defensiveness on them. No joke. Just honesty. I looked away. “You’re doing okay”
Curtis nodded “thanks”
The doorbell rang, we both looked towards the hallway. My father wiped his hands on a towel.
“That’s him”
Something fluttered on my stomach. It was ridiculous I didn’t know this man. Why would i be nervous. I wasn’t, obviously. But I followed my dad into the hallway anyway. He opened the door and the man standing on the other side wasn’t like I was expecting.
Frank Castle was taller than me. That was my first thought. My second thought it was that he looked tired. There was something about his face that made it difficult to guess his age. Maybe in his early forties or maybe older.
His eyes were what caught me. Sharp. Dark. Observant. They moved from Curtis to me and stopped. For one brief second.
My dad smiled “Frank”
They shook hands and then my dad turned towards me. “Frank, this is my daughter” Frank looked towards me again. “Alexandra”
“Lexie” I said.
“Your dad says your name is Alexandra” Frank said.
“No one calls me that” I replied back.
“Lexie” he said, his voice deep.
I nodded. Frank walked past me. He went into the kitchen. I looked at my dad. “He’s not very talkative” my dad said.
“I noticed that”
“He gets better” my dad said.
“How much better?” I asked.
“Not much” my dad said while laughing.
From the kitchen we could hear Frank saying “I heard you”
My dad grinned and i smiled. For the first time in years I could feel the warmth of belonging within a family. Even tho it was just me and dad, i had a good feeling about it.
