On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

his son, but for the past several weeks he hadn't kept that promise. He needed to do that now. He just hoped Vicky would let him in the door.

    * * *

    Sara entered her father's hospital room with a wary smile, unsure of her reception. Her father was in a private room, and his broken leg was propped up in a very uncomfortable-looking contraption. His hair was mussed, and he was unshaven, and didn't look at all like the man she'd grown up with. He'd never left his bedroom, much less the house, without every hair in place. But the one thing that was familiar was the frown on his face.
    "I thought you'd have gone back to New York by now," he said.
    "I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye." She moved to the side of his bed. "How are you feeling?"
    "Not good."
    "Do you need anything? Should I get the nurse to give you something for the pain?"
    "I'm handling it," he said.
    "Okay. I called Kevin Callaway. He's a contractor. He said he could come over this afternoon and give us a bid for fixing the damage."
    "You don't need to be involved in that."
    "You can't take care of it right now, and you can't come back to the house in the condition that it's in. You have to let me help you. I won't make any decisions without consulting you first, but at least let me lay some of the groundwork."
    "I guess I have no choice."
    Thank you would have been a better answer, but since he was in a lot of pain, she would cut him some slack. "Did the doctor say when you will be released?"
    "Because I live alone, he wants me to go to a rehab facility for a few weeks."
    She nervously licked her lips, not sure what to say. She couldn't take weeks off work, but the thought of her dad in a rehab facility was not appealing, either. "Maybe I could stay in the house with you for a few days, and then we could hire a nurse to come in after I'm gone," she suggested.
    "No," he said, shaking his head. "You need to go home. I will deal with my situation."
    She wanted to think that he was making that choice because he was worried about her losing her job, but she couldn't convince herself that was the reason.
    "Why won't you let me help you? I'm your daughter."
    "You've done more than enough."
    There it was – the blame. He hadn't come right out and said she was responsible for the fire, but the accusation was in his eyes. "I wasn't the one who left a pot on the stove or who set a pile of newspapers way too close to the flame," she said, refusing to let him pin this disaster completely on her.
    "You're right," he said, surprising her. "It was my fault. You can go home, Sara. There's nothing for you to feel guilty about."
    Was his acquiescence just a faster way of getting her out of his life?
    "I'm going to talk to the contractor first, get a bid," she said decisively. "You can decide what you want to do with it, but at least you'll have something to look at."
    "I don't want you messing around my house, going through my things."
    "Well, that's too bad, because someone is going to have to help you, and I don't see anyone else here."
    He sighed. "I'm tired, Sara."
    "I'm tired, too, tired of banging my head against a wall. Why is it so difficult for you to talk to me, to accept me?"
    "I'm not trying to hurt you, Sara. I just don't have anything to give. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."
    "Why? Why is that the way it is?' she challenged. "Mom used to tell me that you were capable of a tremendous amount of love. I guess she saw it, but I didn't, and I never understood why."
    His jaw tightened. "I'm in pain. I can't have this conversation with you now. Go home. Live your life. Forget about me. Forget about the house. I will take care of everything when I get out of here. Just leave it all alone." He let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes.
    Sara stood by his bed for another moment, staring down at his face, at the lines of age around his eyes and mouth—a mouth that rarely smiled. Why was he so determined to have her leave when he was obviously going to need help? He'd rather go to a rehab facility or have a stranger give him assistance than have his own daughter take care of him? It didn't make sense.
    She left the room and walked out to her car, thinking she had to be missing something. His behavior was just not normal, and his desperation to get rid of her so fast made her wonder if he was hiding something.
    Did her father have secrets? She'd never thought he was interesting enough to have secrets, but something was off. Aiden had asked her the night