BAILEY
The ride was silenced. My Dad was squirming at his own seat, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Since we left the school, he couldn’t stare directly at my eyes as if he felt guilty about something. I waited and waited until I heard he released an exhausted outbreath yet he persisted to be quiet.
“Okay, Dad. What is going on?” I asked impatiently, running my fingers through my smooth hair. I crossed my arms to emphasize my frustration but he just glanced at me before he turned his attention back to the road with an anxious expression.
As he sensed I was about to speak again, finally, he spoke out, “You know I love your Mom, right? She was my first love and she was the most beautiful person that became mine.”
A frown sketched to my face. I knew he loved my Mom dearly and hi
