“I don’t know. Sorry.” Christ, he didn’t understand his own daughter. Every time he opened his mouth that became more and more obvious. He’d had no sisters. No siblings at all growing up. His youth was nothing but hockey, as was the entire life that followed. French braids and training bras and the politics of elementary school girls were an alien language to him that became more indecipherable by the day. Whenever it was Burgess’s turn to have Lissa, she grew more unreachable. Or he grew denser. It was hard to say which.
my dad was the same way oml
