Brave the Heat by Sara Humphreys Page B

was wrong and shoulda told ya.”
    What difference would it have made? Her mother was right. It didn’t matter anymore. What’s done was done, and while she couldn’t change the past, she sure as hell could face it. But would he ever forgive her for leaving the way she did? For believing Suzanne’s lie so easily? Why should he?
    “You’re right.” Jordan’s shoulders sagged a bit and weariness started to creep in. “It was a long time ago, Mama. Gavin and I are just friends. It’s fine.”
    “Maybe.” Her mother slipped her hands in her pockets and shrugged. “But that don’t mean all that happened between you two is gonna go away just ’cause y’all want it to. Upset feelings like that have a way of bubblin’ up to the surface.”
    “We’re both grown-ups, and the past is in the past.”
    “That so?” Her mother grabbed the mahogany banister and nodded toward the closed door of the bedroom. “Then what are you doin’ here?”
    Jordan opened her mouth to respond but thought better of it.
    “ Meemaw! ” Lily shouted. “Can we go now?”
    “I’m comin’, darlin’.” Jordan’s mother started down the stairs but stopped halfway before letting out a slow breath and looking back up at Jordan. “You can’t change what you did to Gavin any more than your daddy can change what he did to you.”
    Jordan stood at the top of the stairs and listened while the girls’ chatter faded as they headed off to the park with their grandmother. A smile played over Jordan’s lips. She’d wondered so many times if this day would ever come—her daughters playing at the park with their meemaw. This wasn’t the way she would have chosen, but at least it was happening.
    Squaring her shoulders, Jordan turned around and strode across the hall to the bedroom door. Lingering outside, she reminded herself why she was here. She wanted closure with her father. No, not only wanted it but needed it, and no matter what Gavin said, he needed it too. The two of them couldn’t move into the future as friends, or anything else, until they’d dealt with the past.
    But first things first.
    Wrapping her hand around the knob, she sucked in a shuddering breath. With all the courage she possessed, Jordan opened the door to face her past. As the hinges squeaked, she fought a sudden wave of nausea and slowly pushed the door open, preparing herself for whatever was waiting for her on the other side.
    Would he look the same? Would he seem as intimidating as when she was young? Would that voice, the deep rumbling of it, still cut her to the core and stop her in her tracks?
    No. She stood taller and shook her head while giving herself a good old-fashioned talking-to. She would not shrink from him or this opportunity. Dementia or no dementia, she was finally going to tell him exactly what his words did to her. She would finally, after so many years, stand up to her father and let him know that he didn’t break her. She wasn’t trash. She wasn’t a whore.
    And she sure as hell wasn’t beaten by him.
    With her gaze pinned to the worn wooden floorboards, Jordan settled her shaking hand on the doorjamb and forced herself to face her father. When she finally mustered the courage to confront her past and the man who’d made life remarkably unbearable, Jordan was rendered speechless.
    Withered and small.
    A ghost.
    The old man in the bed was a shadow of who he had once been and a clear reminder that fifteen years had passed. Her father was no longer the towering, scary figure who could shout her into submission but a frail shell of human being. A thin blue blanket and a white sheet were pulled up to his chin, which was covered by a scruffy gray beard. His body, ravaged by illness and years of drinking, lay motionless and nearly skeletal on the bed, outlined by the covers in an almost macabre way. His face—which had been round, ruddy, and often twisted in anger—was gaunt and pale. The thick, blond hair was gone. What remained was thin and