Hope

I sit between my father and my mate, and for the first time since everything fell apart, I feel… anchored.

Papa rests heavily in the chair across from me, his broad shoulders filling the space like they always have. His hair is more silver than I remember, his eyes sharper.

The relief in them causes my heart to squeeze. I can imagine what he was going through. Thinking that what happened to me was the same as what happened to Mama.

I reach across the coffee table and grab his hand with a healthy squeeze. “ I missed you Papa.”

He squeezes my hand back. “I missed him more.”...