Chapter 193

The drive to my father's house was quiet, the air filled with unspoken heaviness.

I was trying to prepare myself for whatever I was about to experience in that house. I knew it wasn't going to be easy.

As Lucas pulled up to the familiar curb, he turned to me, his eyes reflecting concern. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

I nodded, looking out the window at the house in front of us. "I don't think I'll ever be ready, but I need to do it eventually."

"Bringing up your earlier point," Lucas began to say, "your father most likely had a will, Shana. If he did, then this house is yours now."

It felt like I was being hit in the chest with a bag of bricks. This house was mine?

"I can get you in touch with my father's lawyer, and they'll help you sort everything out," Lucas reassured me. "But we don't have to think about it right now. We can just go in and get whatever you need."

I nodded, grateful for Lucas's support in navigating the tangled aftermath of my father's life.

This was more than any teenager should have to deal with, and yet, here Lucas was... Being incredibly supportive and understanding.

I don't know what I had done to deserve him.

"Lucas," I swallowed, feeling the emotions beginning to well up inside me. "I don't even know how to thank you for everything you—"

"Shana," Lucas cut me off. "You don't have to thank me for anything, okay? Don't even think about that right now."

"But—"

"But nothing. I'm doing what a boyfriend is supposed to do. I don't need a thank you."

I nodded, accepting his kindness. I wasn't used to anyone treating me this way.

Together, the both of us exited the car and walked toward the house. There was a different kind of gravity to it now.

Once we reached the garage door, Lucas cautiously asked, "Are you okay to go inside?"

"Yeah," I replied, my voice betraying a hint of apprehension.

"Do you want to go alone?"

"No," I said, almost immediately.

Lucas grabbed my hand in a sign of comfort and opened the box for the keypad. "What's the code?"

I gave it to him as he punched the numbers in, and the garage began to slowly open. The loud, creaking sound hollowing out my chest.

We walked to the door and Lucas waited for me to open it first.

I put my free hand on the handle while Lucas gave my other one a squeeze.

I had to close my eyes briefly to remind myself that everything was fine.

I also had to remind myself that when I opened this door, my father wouldn't be there on the other side.

The realization only made me ache more, and I felt so horrible for the way we had left things. We hadn't even got to properly give each other a goodbye, and now it was too late.

"Shana..." Lucas said cautiously. "I don't want you to do this if you aren't ready. If you aren't that's perfectly fine. I don't think I would be ready."

"I'm okay," I whispered, blinking my eyes open. "I was just thinking about my last conversation with him on the phone."

Lucas gave me a sympathetic look. "At least it ended with him wanting to get better for you, and him apologizing for how he had treated you. That has to count for something, right?"

I pursed my lips, trying to think about it from that perspective.

I guessed Lucas was right, but I just wished it would've went differently. I wished I could've seen him in person one last time. I wished my father could have been stronger than his addictions.

When I pushed the door open fully, I took a moment to look around.

I had expected the place to feel different, changed by the news of my father's passing.

Yet, as I stepped through the doorway, everything seemed hauntingly unchanged.

The air smelled the same, and the furniture stood in exactly where it had been left. The everyday routines my father once had were now only distant memories buried in the walls.

Lucas, sensing my unease, moved his hand to rest on my shoulder. He gave me a comforting rub, double checking my face to see if I was doing fine.

My eyes wandered over the expansive living room. It looked as if it was a snapchat frozen in time.

A chill went down my spine as I realized this was the last place my father had been alive. It was the last place he had called home.

A somber weight crushed me as I stood there, wrestling with the flood of memories that were threatening to drown me.

The reality of my father's absence hit me hard. He really wasn't going to be coming back this time.

"We can always go back to the car," Lucas said softly after I hadn't moved for several minutes.

Tears flowed down my cheeks silently as I tried to gain some kind of strength to walk around. I needed to take small steps to process all of this. I wanted to soak in every memory I could.

"I'm okay, just trying to..."

"Do you want to take a look around?" Lucas suggested gently.

I nodded, allowing my gaze to wander through rooms that seemed to harbor echoes of a life I struggled to comprehend.

We walked past the living room and entered the kitchen. Surprisingly, it was completely clean, save for a single dish in the sink.

It struck me how little my father's presence seemed to have left an imprint on the surroundings.

It almost seemed like he didn't even live here. Everything appeared to be untouched.

I opened the fridge, checking to see if he had been taking care of himself and was surprised to see it empty.

"Did your father cook much?" Lucas asked.

I shook my head. "No, I've never seen him in the kitchen. Usually, he would just pick up food for me from somewhere."

"Looks like he didn't really care for cooking," Lucas gestured to the fridge.

"Unfortunately, I think there was only one thing on his mind." I sighed, closing the fridge slowly.

I turned, surveying the kitchen with a frown.

Was this even a place he called home, or was it merely a pit stop he went to so he could rest his head?

This house hardly appeared lived in.

It was then that I found the clarity to voice a decision that had been brewing within me.

"If my father left me this house in a will, I want to sell it," I said with a tone of finality. "I don't want to hold onto it. It doesn't feel the way it once did."

As I stood in the kitchen, gripping the countertop, Lucas sensed the shift in my mood.

Wordlessly, he pulled me into a comforting hug, offering comfort in the midst of this emotionally charged space. "Shana," he murmured, "whatever you decide, I'm here for you."

"I don't want it tied to me anymore."

The weight of the past seemed too burdensome to carry forward.