My dad was standing just inside the door, to the right. He was throwing a look my brother’s way, while alternating with a different one toward Cross. His eyebrows were furrowed, and the sides of his mouth were turned down.

I’d been more shocked at seeing him the last time, seeing him out of prison, so I hadn’t really taken him in. This time I did. No one looked up at me. I was still barefoot, so I was silent, and I paused, taking a moment, taking a breath, and really looked at my dad.

He’d always been trim, almost lean, but there was slightly more bulk to his frame now. I was guessing from lifting weights in prison. His hair was kept the same, trimmed, but it always pushed the line between being trimmed down and starting to get a little curl to it. He had it almost military shaved this time. No beard. No mustache that he used to keep. He was tan, but he’d always been tanned. And he liked to wear frayed, yet baggy, jeans along with a white shirt and a jean jacket over it. The shirt was usually stained. The jacket was always tossed on to cover the stain, so the jacket ended up frayed to match the jeans. It’d been his go-to attire, and that was the biggest difference now.

He was still wearing jeans with rider boots, but his jeans were new. They were almost trendy jeans.

I felt a little kick to my sternum because I didn’t know how I felt about that.

New jeans. A belt, for the first time I ever saw one on him, and a buttoned-up shirt. Dark blue to match his jeans. It almost looked denim, but it wasn’t. But that wasn’t it. He had a tie, too. A dark gray tie.

I reached out without thinking, grasping the handrail, and I squeezed.

I didn’t know why I was squeezing.

He looked like someone who was coming from church, and that gave me pause.

I must’ve made a noise.

All three looked up, but those eyes—they were mine.

I sucked in a breath at that.

I knew. I always knew, but in the past few years, I had started to dream that I had Mom’s eyes. I didn’t. Channing did. Me. I had our dad’s eyes. And his hair because I was remembering that he spent so much time outside that his hair had gotten sun streaks from it. Not now. It was dark like mine, though mine was still darkened black from this summer.

I wanted new hair for a new chapter in my life.

Having him here, he was bringing an old chapter back, a lot of old chapters back, actually.

My heart started pounding. My vision started to swim.

I didn’t know how I was feeling about any of this.

“Hey.”