Page 120 of My Favorite Holidate

“Let me know what you find out.”

“Count on it.”

The second I hang up, I try my dad. He doesn’t answer. I send him a text. I make a couple quick calls to people I know in Vegas. People who might know him or know where he is. The manager of the apartment complex. The woman who lives next door. Nobody’s seen him, but I ask for them to let me know as soon as they do.

A sick feeling twists in my gut, but then a voice slithers in my ear, saying,“He’s fine. He’s done this in the past. He always does this.”

I’ve been down this road before. My father’s pulled this disappearing act many times. Usually he goes someplace else, like Reno. He’ll resurface there, lose a ton of money, and then call me and ask me to pay it off. And what will I do?

Pay it off.

I stare at the mountains in the distance, the cold air seeping deep into my bones. He’s the problem I can’t solve.

I slump onto the outdoor couch and stare at the stark outlines of the peaks, wishing I had their certainty and, when it comes to my dad, their strength.

I stare off into the distance long enough for the door to slide open and Fable to pad across the deck in a pair of the fuzzy socks I gave her. They’re adorable. A fleece blanket is wrapped around her. Her hair is still morning messy but her eyes are bright and filled with concern. “Hey, you,” she says.

“Hey,” I say, my tone flat.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Of course. Absolutely.”

She gives me a soft but admonishing smile. “A triple denial?”

Saw right through me. I meet her gaze, hold up my hands, and shrug. “What can you do?”

She glances down toward the couch cushion. “Want company?”

With her, the answer is always yes. “I do,” I say quietly, not even trying to hide how badly I want her presence.

She sits next to me, tucks her feet under her, then says, “That was your dad’s friend.”

There’s something so refreshing about the fact that she’s direct. She’s cut straight to the heart of the matter. “Yes,” I reply.

“The one who calls to give you a heads-up about what’s going on?”

She remembers everything, from why I like snow to what kind of man my father is. With some embarrassment over my dad’s ways, I look up, meet her soft gaze, then pause. Am I doing this? Telling her the full truth? Telling anyone? But my chest is tight, tighter than it’s been before. Maybe telling her will help loosen some of the tension I carry around with me.

So I tell her everything Victor shared, ending with, “And I wish I knew what to do.”

But as soon as I say that, I hate how weak it makes me sound. How helpless. Like I don’t know how to do my job. Like I can’t run a business. How hard can it really be to find a lowlife gambler?

I don’t give her a chance to respond. I’ve got to be able to figure this out. “But maybe there’s something I can do. I can make some more calls. I need to bail him out. It’s just smart.”

Fable shoots me a doubtful look. “Is it though?”

How can she possibly understand? Sure, her father is a showboating jackass, but at least he’s not an addict. Besides, she’s the one who said,Sometimes, we aren’t always ready to do the hard thing. So we have to do something easier first. This is just easier. “I have the money. It’s ridiculous not to pay it. It’s selfish not to pay it. What is the point of working this hard if not to spend it on my family?”

“Wilder, is that what you want to do?” It’s asked thoughtfully, with consideration and care.

But what I want to do is irrelevant. I’ve never been able to do what I want with him. Paying it off is what I have to do. It’s what I’m supposed to do. It’s the right fucking thing. Doesn’t she get this? “I’ll try to help him,” I say, but that falls flat even to my ears. He has to help himself. I know this but still the knot of tension cranks even higher. “I’ll just pay it off. And then we’ll move on.”

She takes a beat, like she’s being careful with her words. “Do you think paying it off is going to solve it?”

But I’m barely listening to her. “Actually, I can take care of everything right now. I don’t know why I didn’t do this beforehand.” Except maybe I’m turning soft. Like I was last night when Brady played me better by having Iris hum along. I can’t keep missing opportunities because I’m distracted. “Why don’t I call Desert Springs and pay off whatever he owes them? I’m sure he owes them something.”

I grab my phone and immediately start googling the phone number for Desert Springs Casino. I’m about to hit call when Fable’s hand comes down on mine. She’s not gentle. She’s firm and crystal clear as she says, “Look at me.”