stare at it for one heartbeat. Then two. Then I swipe the notification away and dial a number I’ve known my entire life. “Dakota?” The minute I hear my father’s whiskey-weathered voice, relief floods my entire body. I choke on a sob, feeling a little less alone, wondering why I didn’t ask for help two years ago. “Daddy,” I choke out. “Wasn’t expecting to hear from you today, daydreamer.”
