“Plus, she seems like a low flight risk,” I add.

Hallie glares at me for that comment, but my father chuckles. Actually makes a sound of amusement. I can’t recall the last time that happened. Probably because we barely speak.

“I know I put you girls through hell back then. If I could go back and do things differently, I would, but I hope this can be a new chapter. A fresh start for our family.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is thicker. “You two mean the world to me.”

The words are meant more for me, but Hallie is the one who responds. “Oh, Dad.” She hugs him, and I watch them share a moment I’m meant to be included in.

She forgave our father a long time ago. All three of us know that. I’m the one entrenched in the past.

Holding grudges.

Forcing friction.

Because I believe people should be held accountable for their actions. Because actions have consequences. Because I’ve prioritized scoring goals over being daughter or sister or granddaughter or aunt of the year, and this trip has thrown that into glaring clarity.

My father releases Hallie and then takes a hesitant step toward me. Then another. And another. He wraps his arms around me and gives me a small squeeze. I lift my own arms to touch his back, but don’t contract them. Still, it’s the most physical contact we’ve had in years.

It’s barely a hug, but it’s something.

I recall his words. My family doesn’t mean more to me than anything in the world. I love Hallie. I know I love my father, even if it’s wrapped in layers of abandonment and awkwardness any family therapist would have a field day with, but I shifted my world to encompass nothing but soccer a long time ago.

It was something I could completely control.

My mess of a father and missing mother weren’t.

“Marcus! There you are!” A harried-looking woman wearing a pantsuit appears at the end of the hallway. I’m assuming she’s the wedding planner, and it’s confirmed by her next words. “We need to go over some reception logistics.”

“Go handle that, Dad. We’ve got to get ready for photos,” Hallie instructs. Then she starts striding down the hallway.

“See you later, Dad,” I say, and then I literally have to sprint after Hallie since I have no idea where exactly we’re headed.

“Sheesh! Are you training for a speed-walking competition?”

Hallie snorts. “Says the girl who runs five miles a day.”

“I thought we got here ridiculously early to avoid having to rush. What’s the sudden hurry?”

“Well, we have to make sure Sandra’s not gassing up a getaway car.”

I sigh. “Hallie, it was a joke! I’m not allowed to have a sense of humor?”

“We’re in a church, not a comedy club.”