I jump as his arms wrap around me from behind. My breath catches in my throat. I still as he pulls me slowly into his chest and rests his chin on top of my head.

My body sinks back, using him for support. He’s a steel wall of a man but also soft.

Damn this man.

He doesn’t move or speak, just holds me in his arms.

“I used to blame my dad for a lot of his mistakes,” I say softly. “And they were his doing and they were his mistakes. But, in a way, they prepared me for the rest of my life. And I—”

“No child should ever be prepared for life like that, Palmer. Ever.”

My heart warms. “You’re right. But—”

“No buts.” He spins me around and bends down so that I’m looking him in the eye. “Don’t make excuses for shitty decisions that other people make.”

I stare at him, taking in the mixture of ferocity and tenderness in his eyes.

“He wasn’t preparing you for life,” he says, lifting my chin with the tip of his finger. “He was surviving. And if you don’t want to blame him for that, don’t. I wasn’t there, and I’d like to think that any father in the world wouldn’t intentionally hurt their child. But don’t give him the credit for your strength. You prepared you. You learned and fought and rose above. Not him. Don’t get that twisted.”

My head spins as it sorts Cole’s words.

No one has ever said this to me before.

I’ve heard things like Look for the silver lining and His choices weren’t about you. I’ve had teachers and therapists use my experiences to rationalize my subsequent behavior: “You’re a people pleaser because that’s the survival instinct that worked. Now, let’s work on trying to not use it in our adult relationships . . .”

But no one has ever told me to look at things this way—to be proud of my resolve. The focus has always been on the past—on my trauma—explaining Dad’s behavior and how that affected who I became. No one ever consoled that little, desperate girl and told her “well done” for everything she was able to do despite her age. And that, even though that little girl never felt what it was like to hide within the arms of a father who loved her more than anything else, she grew. She fought. She blossomed.

It prepared me to be the resilient adult that I am.

But I accepted those responsibilities and made them mine. The focus has never been on the present and who I’m responsible for—the woman I am. It’s so much more powerful to think of it like this.