Tinsel

by Devney Perry

  Maybe then I’d make it through this.

  Maybe.

  I woke up this morning completely lost. Dad and I hadn’t been close lately, but he’d been an anchor. A constant. Despite the distance, I knew he was there.

  Now he was gone.

  One phone call six days ago and I was set adrift.

  Mom called to tell me about Dad’s heart attack, begging me to come straight home. I went, in shock. I didn’t think to call anyone, Xavier included. It took me over twenty-four hours to just comprehend what happened.

  My dad died.

  I’d lost him. And I was close to losing Mom and my sisters too. They were furious at me because I thought Xavier deserved to be at his brother’s funeral.

  But they wanted to keep him in the dark. As I held Mom’s hand at the funeral home, listening to her arrange the services for Dad, she cried and pleaded for me to keep Dad’s death from Xavier. How fucked up was that?

  How fucked up was it that I agreed?

  Mom didn’t want to make the funeral about Xavier’s appearance. She told me there were too many emotions as it was. It would be easier that way. It was what Dad would have wanted. Rozene and Koko helped shove that guilt down my throat.

  So I went along with it . . . until the day before the funeral.

  I drove back to Lark Cove, went straight to the cottage and told Xavier about Dad’s heart attack.

  Xavier and Hazel were two of the first to arrive at Dad’s graveside. If looks could kill, Mom, Rozene and Koko would have put me six feet under beside Dad.

  I did my best to help Mom and my sisters through the funeral service, as much as they’d let me. I shook hands and made small talk with neighbors and distant relatives. I didn’t outwardly cringe when not two but three members of the tribal council asked if I’d be coming home to run for Dad’s seat.

  I was busy, too busy, to comprehend the earth’s shift under my feet. But then I came home, where there were no distractions or grieving family members to comfort, and got hit with the magnitude of the earthquake.

  My dad died.

  I wanted to scream until my lungs bled, just something to release some of this pain from my chest.

  My dad died.

  The last time I saw him was at the hospital after Koko had her baby. We had shallow phone calls since, none lasting more than two minutes. They were mostly full of awkward silence.

  What was the last thing I said to him on the phone? What was the last thing I said that day in the hospital? I’d been trying to remember for days, but I couldn’t recall the words. All I knew was they’d been said in anger and frustration.

  I couldn’t take them back. I couldn’t right the wrongs between us.

  Because the clock had stopped.

  Because my dad had died.

  I pulled another bottle off the shelf, revealing a patch of mirror. My eyes caught themselves in the reflection. They were bloodshot and glassy. The dark circles underneath hung nearly to my cheekbones.

  I hadn’t slept in days. There was too much on my mind for sleep. There were too many decisions to make.

  Come home.

  After everyone went home from the funeral and my sisters retreated to their homes to cuddle with their husbands and children, I went with Mom. We sat at the dining room table, cloaked in grief, and she said, “Come home.”

  It hadn’t been a suggestion or a plea. It had been an order. An ultimatum.

  The first thing that popped into my mind was that if I moved back to Browning, I wouldn’t be in Lark Cove to catch a glimpse of Sofia if she ever came to visit.

  Even though our last phone call had been a definite end, my broken heart held fast to a shred of hope.

  With every passing second, it faded. I wouldn’t be here the next time Sofia Kendrick came to visit. I’d be back on the reservation. If I didn’t want to drive my mom and sisters further away, I had to move home.

  I took down five more bottles, dusting the scotch section for probably the last time. I hated leaving Jackson and Thea in the lurch, but what choice did I have?

  Wait for Mom to die? Wait for another phone call or surprise heart attack? If I didn’t go back, would they call me for the next family funeral? Or would I become the next Xavier?

  At least he had a wife.

  Why should I stay in Lark Cove when I had no one but my uncle?

  It might take me a while to find a job, but eventually something would come up. I’d travel back and forth to manage my properties for as long as it made sense. Maybe I’d sell them off one by one if the market didn’t tank.

  I’d have to find someone else to deliver Arthur’s junk food every week.

  After finishing one wall of shelves, I went to the other and got started dusting those. I worked fast, hoping I’d have time to do a deep clean of that cupboard where we piled up everything extra. I’d save Thea from doing it for once.

  I said good-bye to the Lark Cove Bar as I cleaned. I soaked it all in, knowing it wouldn’t be my refuge for much longer. Here, I’d found an escape. I’d found a job.

  I’d found a family.

  But it was time I went home to my real family, to the people who shared my blood and name. To the people I’d forsaken in the name of freedom.

  Shackles closed around my ankles at the thought of packing my things and leaving my home. Iron cuffs wrapped around my wrists.

  But I’d learn to tolerate them. For Dad’s memory, I’d find a way to carry those chains.

  The door opened behind me. I put the last few bottles back in place and turned to greet my customer, dust rag in hand. “Morn—Petah?”

  “Hi.” She waved and walked across the room, scanning the bar as she came closer.

  “What are you doing here?” I tossed down my rag.

  “I wanted to check on you. We didn’t get to talk much yesterday.”

  Petah had sought me out after the funeral. I’d been standing with Hazel and Xavier at the cemetery. The wind had been blowing hard, biting into our skin, so we hadn’t lingered by Dad’s grave long.

  Petah had been one of the few people at the services to acknowledge my uncle. She’d greeted him and Hazel with a smile, which meant more to me than she’d ever know. Then she’d given me her condolences and a hug with tears swimming in her eyes.

  “This is a nice place.” Petah pulled out a stool across from me and sat down.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  She nodded. “I’ll have a Coke, please.”

  “No ice?” Petah had always hated ice in her soda.

  “You remember.”

  I shrugged. “You’re the only woman in the world who prefers lukewarm soda to cold.”

  “I don’t mind cold. I just don’t like ice.”

  I filled up a glass for her, foregoing the straw because she didn’t like those either. Then I set it down and walked around the side of the bar.

  She kept her seat as I gave her a hug and settled onto the stool at her side.

  “How you holding up?” I asked.

  “I’m supposed to be asking you that.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Okay,” I admitted. “No, I’m not.”

  Her dark eyes met mine. “Once upon a time, you used to talk to me. You still can.”

  “Once upon a time.”

  Petah had been the person I’d confided in when I was pissed at someone at school or upset about a test grade or angry about a ref’s call at a basketball game. For normal high school problems, she’d been my confidant.

  But I’d never talked to her about the stuff that mattered. I’d never shared my desires to leave the reservation or my need to see the world and break free. She had no clue back then how much I’d felt smothered and trapped, even as a teenager.

  For the real problems, the real feelings, I went to Xavier.

  And Sofia.

  In the days I’d spent with Sofia, I’d told her more about myself, my real self, than Petah had ever kn
own.

  Except Sofia wasn’t here, and Petah was.

  Would we find our way back to one another when I moved home to the reservation? There was no doubt that Mom would like that. My sisters too.

  “Mom wants me to move home.” I waited for a reaction, but she just stared at me. “So I guess I’ll move home.”

  “You don’t want that.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “I don’t. But everyone else does. And don’t tell me you aren’t in that camp.”

  “Would I like to see you more? Yes. I’m not going to lie. Do I wish things had worked out between us? Yes. We both know that. But did you ever think to ask what I wanted? You’re not the only person who wants certain things in life.”

  I blinked, taken aback by her sharp tone. Petah had never snapped at me. Not once. “I, uh . . . you’re right. Sorry. What do you want?”

  “I want a home and a family. I want my kids to live close to their grandparents. I want to settle down and live a simple life with a husband who also happens to be my best friend. I used to want that with you because you are a good man who has always been kind to me.”

  “Used to?”

  Her shoulders fell forward. “Once upon a time you were the man of my dreams. I held on to that dream for too long. It’s time to let it go.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know. You didn’t do anything wrong. As much as it would be nice to place some blame, I can’t fault you for following your heart.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “And for what it’s worth, I think it would be a mistake if you moved home.”

  I sighed. “I have to.”

  My dad died.

  “You don’t belong there, Dakota.” Petah laid her hand on my forearm.

  “I know. But where?” My voice cracked, my eyes searching hers for an answer. “Where do I belong?”

  It wasn’t in Lark Cove. It wasn’t on the reservation. I really needed someone to tell me because I sure as fuck didn’t know where I belonged right now.

  “With me.”

  The whisper echoed through the bar.

  I spun around, searching for the voice I’d been hearing in my sleep for the last two months. I found the source just inside the door. Sofia. Standing in nearly the same place as she had been the first time.

  Her hair was down, longer than it had been all those months ago. She’d curled the ends and they twisted down to her waist. Her eyes were full of tears.

  Tears for me.

  And she was wearing those goddamn snow boots again. In October.

  I’d missed those goddamn boots.

  “Excuse me.” Petah stood from her seat and bent, kissing my cheek. “Good-bye, Dakota.”

  I gave her a fast glance as she walked away but mostly kept my focus on Sofia.

  Her eyes held mine, even as Petah passed her by and went out the door.

  When it was just the two of us in the bar, I broke the silence. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your dad died.”

  “My dad died.” My throat burned like someone had shoved a branding iron past my tongue. I’d been repeating those three words in my head for days. Not once had they come out of my mouth.

  Not until Sofia had walked through the door.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  Tears flooded my eyes this time. She was blurry as she crossed the room.

  Dad would have told me to suck it up. He had never believed much in crying—that was something a man did on his own. But the overwhelming relief that she was here when I needed her, even after I hadn’t been there for her, was more than I could keep bottled up.

  “My dad died,” I choked out.

  She threw her arms around my shoulders, holding me tight. “I know, love.”

  The flood came. The rush of pain and anger and hopelessness. I put it all on Sofia’s shoulders, banding my arms around her back as I buried my face in her neck and cried.

  Her hold on me never wavered. It never loosened. She took everything I gave her and then some more.

  I don’t know how long we were there, me sitting on a stool, her standing between my legs. The breakdown I’d been fighting wasn’t small, and I was glad no customers had come in and Thea had left us alone. Finally, when I pulled myself back together, I leaned back and took her all in.

  She was here. She was standing right here with my face in her hands, my tears on her thumbs as she dried them away.

  “You’re here.”

  She nodded. “I’m so sorry about your dad.”

  “Me too. Who called you?”

  “Xavier.” Xavier must have told Thea too because I hadn’t said a word. I blew out a deep breath, then ran my hands up and down my face. “Thanks for that. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. You needed it.”

  No, I’d needed her. “I’m sorry,” I told her again.

  “Dakota, it’s fine. You don’t need to apologize for crying after a parent dies.”

  “No.” I shook my head then cupped her cheek with my palm. “I’m sorry for New York. I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me. I’m sorry for the phone call.”

  She tilted her head, the weight of her face resting in my hand. “You’re forgiven.”

  “Easy as that?”

  “I’ve been mad at you for months, and I’m tired of being mad. I’m letting it go.”

  I breathed and months’ worth of regret floated away. “How long can you stay?”

  “As long as you need.”

  Years. I needed years with this woman.

  I wasn’t going to get them, so I took a kiss instead.

  I woke up alone in Dakota’s bed, something that had happened every morning for the past two weeks. And like I’d done each of those days, I shrugged one of his bulky sweatshirts on over my pajamas and went to search for him.

  Most days I found him in the gym. Today, I found him in the living room, sitting in a recliner and staring off into space.

  My heart seized at the expression on his face. It was of utter grief and despair. I walked to him immediately, touching his arm when I got close. “Hi.”

  He jerked, blinking a few times as he shook his mind out of where it had been. “Hey.”

  I rounded the chair and slid right into his lap, tucking my knees into his chest as I snuggled in tight.

  He had a coffee cup in his hand. I took it and brought it to my lips. As expected, it was cold.

  Dakota had probably been up for hours.

  I rested my head against his shoulder. “What can I do?”

  Dakota wrapped his arms around me tighter, cloaking me with their warmth. “You’re doing it. Stay with me?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I’d meant what I’d said in the bar two weeks ago. Dakota belonged with me.

  I hadn’t really meant to say it out loud. I’d come into the bar, shocked to see him sitting with Petah. But when he’d asked her where he belonged, the words had spilled past my lips.

  With me.

  I loved him. I hadn’t said the words yet. It wasn’t the right time. But I could show him how much I cared by being here.

  The future was still hazy, but every moment spent in his arms brought different pixels into focus. I saw us sitting together over Thanksgiving dinner. I saw us exchanging presents on Christmas. I saw a lifetime of midnight kisses to ring in the new year.

  In time, the gaps in between would sharpen too.

  “My mom called this morning,” he said quietly.

  “What?” I sat up off his chest, glancing over the back of the chair to the clock on the wall. It was only six in the morning and still dark outside. “What time?”

  “About four.”

  “Is she okay?” An emergency was the only reason someone would need to call at four.

  “Koko ran into Petah at the grocery store yesterday.”

  Oh no. “And Petah told her I was here.”

  “Yep. Mom’s, uh, worked up.”
/>   Other than it not happening sooner, it came as no surprise. I’d been waiting two weeks for this kind of call from his family.

  Dakota had spoken to his mom every day, but their conversations had always been short check-ins to see how she was holding up. He’d avoided mentioning my arrival and my open-ended departure.

  The day I’d come to Lark Cove, Dakota had told me all about his mom’s ultimatum to move home. He’d also told me how much he didn’t want to go back.

  I think talking to Petah had helped him. As much as it irritated me that his ex-girlfriend had been the one to make an impression, I think only someone from the reservation, someone who knew him before, could have reinforced what he already knew.

  It was no longer his home.

  But until he convinced his mother and sisters of the same, they wouldn’t let up. They certainly wouldn’t accept me into his life.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked. “Should I leave?”

  I held my breath as he thought it over. The last thing I wanted to do was leave him. Dakota needed someone—no, not someone, me—here to help him through this rough patch. But if his family was going to throw up roadblocks and make dealing with the loss of his father even harder than it already was, I’d disappear.

  For a while.

  “No.” He pulled me impossibly close. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  I sighed. “I don’t either.”

  “We have to figure a lot of shit out. I need . . . I don’t know. I’ve had this image of how my future looked for so long. It’s what’s driven me forward. Now, with you, it’s different. I’m still not sure what it looks like.”

  I twisted to the side so I could set down the coffee mug. “I don’t know all of the details. I wish I did. But do we have to tackle the future right now? Can’t some of it wait?”

  “Yeah. I don’t think I could figure it all out right now.”

  I put my hand on his face, his stubble rough against my palm. Then I laid a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m here. For whatever you need.”

  “I need to work this out with my family. I don’t want to lose them. You either.”