“She probably doesn’t want to be around people just yet,” she murmured, trying to clear her head of worry and fear in order to be of help.
Philip nodded. “Do you think she went for a walk? Alone in the dark?” He cringed as he said the words.
“I’ll go out with you to look.”
His eyes told her he was grateful. Carrie grabbed her coat and purse, and they both rushed out of the building.
Soon after she’d graduated from high school, when Carrie was eighteen, she’d decided to seek out her father. It had been a mistake. He’d seemed to think she wanted something from him, and in retrospect, she knew she had. She’d wanted him to love her, wanted him to tell her how proud he was of the woman she’d become. It had taken her the better part of a year to realize that Tom Weston was selfish and immature and incapable of giving her anything. Even his approval.
In the five years she’d known Jason Manning, at that point, he’d been far more of a father than her biological one would ever know how to be. She hadn’t had any contact with Tom Weston since. It had hurt that the man responsible for her birth wanted nothing to do with her, but after a few months she’d accepted his decision. If anything, she appreciated his honesty, hurtful as it’d been at the time.
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