It reminds me of a fairy tale. The dark woods and a long path . . . I almost expect a cottage at the end.
But instead of a cottage, in reality, there is a tree house.
“What is this?”
“Come on up, and I’ll show you.”
On the side of the tree is an old, rickety wooden ladder.
Tobias stops suddenly, slowly moving to face me, then motions to the ladder.
I cock my head, then laugh. “Hell to the no.”
His gaze lowers to mine. “I promise it’s perfectly safe.”
“It looks like a death trap.”
“Would I ever let anything happen to you?”
“No.”
“Then up you go.”
With Tobias standing beside me, I make my way up.
It’s larger and much safer than I thought it would be from the outside. This wasn’t built by kids. This looks professional.
“How did you know about this?”
“I built it.”
“Why?”
I move into the tree house and take a seat on the floor. Tobias, who looks too large for the space, surprisingly doesn’t.
“I built it one day for my children.”
“Your children?” My heart drums in my chest.
“The ones I will eventually have.”
A nervous giggle bubbles up from my mouth.
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, I’m in no rush.”
“Good to know.” I playfully swat his hand, and he captures my wrist. His fingers spread over my skin, his thumb on my tattoo.
“What do you remember of your parents?” he asks.
I bite my lip. “Not a lot. Not as much as I hoped.” My head tilts up, and I try to remember.
My mom’s blue eyes come into focus, her smile and her laughter. My dad sits beside her. His hazel-green eyes look at her with love. The way he smiles is contagious.
“I remember how he looked at her.”
“How was that?”
“He looked at her the way you look at me.” With love.
The way he’s looking at me now. Like I am the moon, sun, and the sky. His sky.
“Do you remember a good place?”
“Our place was taken from us. Our place was Al’s.”
“When this is all said and done, we’ll fix that. We’ll make new memories.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You’re the strongest person I know . . . you can.”
“And you?”
“I remember this tree house.”
My eyes go wide. “This exact one?”
He laughs. “Yes.”
“But how . . . ?”
“This was my first home. The home I should have lived in. And for a while, I did. But then my father uprooted us. Wanting to grow the business, he moved from town to town to make sure he had the connections he needed and eventually moved us to Reddington. Years later, I bought it back.”
“But you said you built this.”
“Well, technically, I rebuilt it. The one I used to sit in as a small child was long gone, but it sat here in this tree. I remember hiding here the day we left. I didn’t want to go.”
“What happened?”
“He eventually found me. He said that we would be back. That we were off on a grand adventure.”
“Grand adventure all right. More like a Greek tragedy,” I mumble.
“It was an adventure. He was right. Though it was not the adventure he had envisioned, it still was one. And now you’re by my side.”
“I’m happy I am.”
“Me too, Skye. Me too.”
After that, we sit in silence.
Feeling the enormity of the last part of the adventure before this story ends.
Hours later, we sit together in his bed, but no matter how much I try, I can’t stop thinking about my father.
This afternoon was about my parents, but there is no end to this story without my adoptive dad.
All the lies and mistruths were piling up. A mountain has grown of all the things he hasn’t told me, and I don’t know how to climb to the top and see the big picture.
My hand slams down on my lap, and Tobias snaps his head in my direction from where he is sitting on the bed next to me.
“Everything okay over there?” He chuckles.
A burning sensation spreads in my mouth as I realize I’ve bitten my lip so forcefully that I have torn the skin. The taste of copper touches my tongue as I swipe it out to soothe the wound.
“I need to talk to him tonight.”
“Who do you need to talk to?”
Cocking my head, I give Tobias my best are you fucking kidding me look.
He chuckles again, a sound I will never grow tired of. It’s my favorite sound, like music to my ears, especially since I know that it doesn’t happen often.
“My father, Tobias. Duh.” I roll my eyes.
“Duh? Really? Did I miss the memo? Are you in high school?”
“Har. Har. Har. But seriously”—I sigh overdramatically, playing right into Tobias’s previous comment—“what do I even say? I feel like there is so much I want to say to him. About his health. About the lie. But I don’t know where to start.”
From beside me, Tobias reaches his hand out and takes mine in his. He lightly rubs my hand, then he trails his fingers over my tattoo.