In her soul, she longed to grasp this new chance with Carson, but her emotions were all so surface level and exposed. She had to get this right—for both of them. She wanted to trust what he said about having his drinking under control, but he'd tossed so many negatives about the situation her way. She needed to be responsible enough at least to think through them.
Her lumbering father dropped into the chair across from her, silently drinking from his mug. Even more quiet than usual as he studied her across the wooden expanse, a new piece of furniture she'd helped her dad varnish after he'd bought it at the bare-wood store.
For an overprotective parent, these past days couldn't have been easy for him. She passed him the can of whipped topping. "Are you okay, Dad?"
"I should be asking you that, baby girl." His gaze rested on the raw ring around her wrist where the sail lines had immobilized her underwater.
"And I'm betting that because I'm your daughter, today was tougher on your ticker than it was on mine." She cupped her hands around the warm porcelain.
"You might be right." He set his World's Best Dad mug down slowly, his hand shaking ever so slightly but oh so tellingly. "I owe Scorch for saving your life."
"Are you okay with me seeing Carson?"
He nodded, suddenly overly preoccupied with how the can of whipped cream operated. "I'm not sure it would matter to you if I wasn't."
She sifted that around in her mind while sipping, chocolate and cream flooding her senses with childhood memories of other shared cocoa and late-night chats with her dad. She loved her father, no question, but she wasn't his little girl anymore. "It wouldn't change my mind, but it would matter."
"I know about his history." He rolled the can back across the table to her, his rugged teddy-bear face so compassionate she wanted to crawl in his lap and cry as she'd done during elementary school days.
Was it so wrong to seek his advice? Was that a step backward when more than ever she needed to add years in wisdom to her adult resume? Still she couldn't stop the words. "Am I delusional to believe I can handle a relationship with a recovering alcoholic?"
"You're too old for me to tell you what to do."
Was she? At the moment it seemed less mature to assume arrogantly that she had all the answers. "I'm learning that you're never too old to ask your father for advice."
"Which proves you really don't need me after all." He patted her hand clutching the whipped cream can in a death grip. "You're more than ready to leave the nest."
Parental approval sure did feel nice no matter what her age. She flipped her hand to link fingers with her dad. "Does that mean I'm out on the sidewalk?"
"Not hardly, baby girl." He squeezed back with a familiar comfort that stung her eyes with tears at this landmark moment.
She really was crossing into a new era of her life. Would it include Carson?
Nikki slid her hand away and took another warming gulp from her mug. "What made you and Mom stick it out so long even though things were rocky?"
"But we did quit."
"After over twenty years of working at it." She hadn't been surprised when her parents announced they'd seen a divorce attorney, but it still hurt even as an adult.
A rare smile creased her father's craggy face. "Your mother and I are particularly hardheaded. It took us a while to get it right."
"That doesn't help me much."
"I assume this isn't a rhetorical question."
"I wish. He also worries about me being too young. And I think he puts too much stock in your certainty that I'm not equipped for the stresses of being an Air Force wife."
"Whoa. Wait." He held up both palms. "Of course I don't want you to go through the struggles. This is a tough life after all, but I've never doubted for a minute that you can handle anything that comes your way as long as you go in with your eyes open."
"Who are you, and what have you done with my quietly looming overprotective father?"
His smile cranked broader. "Your mother and I are working on better communication. Never thought I would buy into the notion of counseling, but it helps. What your mother and I have is worth fighting for."
She'd known they sought help to put their marriage back together. They'd even invited Chris and her along for a couple of family sessions. Why not apply that to her situation with Carson?
He assumed the alcoholism was more than she could handle. He might be correct—a possibility that closed her throat—but he might well be wrong. Either way, he had been making a decision that affected both of them. She should be a part of that equation, and to do that, she needed more information.
She'd been so set on protecting her heart, she'd let him shield her, as well, and that wasn't right. No one had ever fought for Carson. Sure he'd sought out A.A., but as far as she could tell, other than a lone English teacher, no one had offered help.