Worth The Risk

Chapter Four

When I got home that night the house was dark except for the faint amber glow coming from the open door of my father's study. He's usually in bed by this hour since he has to wake so early for work.

"Dad?" I quietly spoke his name as I peered into the doorway.

He was still dressed in his work clothes, his tie tugged loose around his neck and his sleeves roughly rolled up to his elbows. His hair was terribly disheveled, the way it gets when he's been stressed and tugging at it with his hands.

He had his head in his hands, elbows propped on top of the desk. He didn't look so good. "Hey, honey..." he said, giving me a tired smile.

My brows were knit with concern and I walked over behind his desk and put a hand on his shoulder, "What's wrong?"

He sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet of the room. "I got a call from your mom... she left a voicemail."

My face cleared with understanding and I exhaled a breath before saying, "Oh," I shook his shoulder to get him to look up at me. "She called me too. I didn't answer... but I listened to the voicemail. Twice."

He frowned and his own worries were replaced with concern for me, "Are you okay?"

I smiled weakly, "Are you?"

He gave me a pathetic attempt at a smile and shrugged, "I think we're both okay. How about some ice cream?"

I laughed softly and nodded, "Why not? Sugar at midnight sounds great."

"That's my girl." he said, putting an arm around me as we walked to the kitchen.

My dad had obviously been like I found him for some time now since the entire house was dark except for the one lamp that he had on in his study. I flipped the switch for the light in the kitchen, but the brightness was too much now that my eyes are accustomed to the dark so I dimmed it a little and hopped up on the granite counter top of the island while my dad got the ice cream and two spoons. We're both too lazy to get bowls that we'd later have to rinse out and put in the dish washer. If we could manage without spoons without geting frostbite on our fingers than we probably would.

Dad and I talked about school, work, Steven and Aubrey, and once he had enough ice cream in him that I figured he was cheered up enough... I said, "I want a puppy."

My dad choked on his ice cream and looked up at me with bemused shock. "What?"

I lifted my chin, not willing to relent. "I want a puppy. I think I'm responsible enough... and I'll take care of it. I'll potty train it and feed and water it every day."

Dad arched a brow and looked at me skeptically, "You're a responsible kid... so, we'll talk about it."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, "You saying that we'll talk about it means that it'll never happen. Come on, dad. I'm eighteen and I can handle it." I pouted, giving my dad my best puppy dog face... it seemed very fitting at the time considering my request.

Dad just looked at me for several seconds, seeming completely torn, but he nodded with a resigned grunt. "Fine. What breed are you wanting?"

I grinned and set my spoon down, too excited for ice cream. "Thank you, daddy!" I bounced up and down on the counter. "I'm not too sure..."

"What even got you started on wanting a dog? You've never said anything before."

"Adam. He was telling me about his cousins new puppy, Fluffy--"

My dad's eyes widened and he looked at me with shock.

I nodded empathically, "I know. Fluffy. Who name's their dog fluffy?" I shook my head at the terribleness of it. But the way Adam had talked about the puppy and how adorable and goofy he is, well it got me thinking and a puppy sounded like a balm for my wounded soul. I laughed internally at my own dramatic musings.