Chapter Text
The sound of the door opening makes Cordell's head shoot up to follow it. He's got an arm near August's head, can't help but keep the boy close now that he finally gets to. Cordell has missed them, all of them, can't seem to keep his hands to himself, constantly checking they're here all while reminding them that he's right here, too.
"Hey," Cordell greets, voice hoarse, as he sits up.
Stella's clutching a quilt, speaks quickly and moves even quicker so she can get away. Cordell knows he could've avoided all this, could've just showed up at the reception they all prepared for him and maybe this wouldn't be happening, maybe she wouldn't be running away from him all the time now.
Cordell knows, logically, that his urge to run from Stella has a lot more to do with the fact that he was aware of his feelings for his daughter for about a week before Emily died, and once she did, Cordell pulled away from Stella without warning and instead of talking about it like the adult that he is, decided to go away for almost a year, but, well… Try as he might, Cordell can't seem to stop fucking shit up around here, especially with her, and it's getting kind of hard to keep up with what exactly is at fault for his daughter's latest mood.
"Mawline told me to bring you this," Stella rushes out, stretching an arm so Cordell can take the quilt. She's careful not to touch him, pulls away like her father's skin is going to burn her. Cordell remembers those months, those ten fucking months away from her, those endless months without so much as a whisper from his home, and thinks it might. "Which was super subtle."
There's a bitterness to Stella's voice, a choked up humourless laugh and Cordell knows he's the one who put it there. He wants to kick himself for it, wants to tear at his own skin for being the one to corrupt his daisy fresh girl. Instead, he places the quilt over Augie, makes sure the boy is covered by fabric even if it's not that cold out and they're sitting right before the fire.
His face is slack with sleep, peaceful, and even if he's a grown boy already there's always this something in Cordell's chest that goes pleased and quiet at the sight of his kid's sleeping form. He's missed this, family and love, even if there's no quietness to it, even if they're not making it easy for him. It's not easy at all, not like it was before, but to get to have it after seemingly unending sleepless nights when he could do nothing but stare at the ceiling above him and think, so sure he wouldn't see them ever again he could feel the inevitability sinking into his bones, it’s more than enough. Gets Cordell's heart so damn full he's sure it must be toppling over, drenching his ribs with his love. Hurts like it too, gets his chest all tight like Cordell's cracked a rib.
"I heard you," Comes Stella's voice, and it's a little bit surprising to see her talking to him of her own volition, to see her offer up something instead of having to drag it out of her. The insults and accusations are freely given, of course, as is the sarcasm, and Cordell is getting ready to tell her they should go talk outside so they don't wake up her brother. "Before."
But Stella just stands there, arms wrapped around herself, pulling her coat tighter over her body and Cordell isn't sure if it's to shield herself from his eyes or to keep from reaching out and touching him, just knows it hurts all the same. She's staring at him, brows furrowed. Cordell counts his blessings; at least they're not fighting, at least Stella's talking to him. At least she's here, standing in front of him, and not hiding from him in their own house.
Stella is so beautiful and Cordell's heart isn't used to it, forgot how to function around her. There wasn't a day Cordell didn't think of her and still it made no difference whatsoever. No matter the picture he conjured up in his mind, Stella will always be better, be prettier, impossibly immaculate; will always have this glint of sunshine in her eyes Cordell's sure the human mind can't quite emulate and that curve on her lip he's certain no artist could ever replicate without fault.
Cordell drags his eyes away from Stella's face because he can't take it, because he's not ready to go in face first or he's sure he's gonna end up drowning or — and that's more likely, he's got to admit — have a heart attack at fucking thrity seven years old, for Christ's sake.
He nods, then. "Come on." Pats the seat next to him on the couch, aching to get Stella close to him, to hug her, to kiss the frown away from her face, to kiss her until they're both breathless and their lips are starting to swell. And to fucking hold her because God, that's his baby, his little baby girl, and Cordell's home, he's finally home, and he can't think about anything else since the morning he's stepped foot on this farm, even if he knows he would never deserve that privilege.
"Come here," And Cordell wants to add a baby in the end of that sentence, wants to whisper it real quiet and real loving just like he used to when Stella was upset, when all she needed was the comfort of his arms. He knows he's lost that privilege, so he does the smart thing and keeps quiet. Stella inches closer to him while Cordell watches, heart thundering and hopeful. He remembers that before easily, memories of a lifetime — Stella's lifetime, that is, which might as well be his with the way he feels when he's not near her — he's used and reused to keep himself going this past year, remembers endless sweet moments and their mingled laughter ringing in his ears.
Stella sits down on the floor, near enough Cordell can reach her if he just stretches a leg, and Cordell is reminded that things are different now. It's a punch to the gut but Stella's there, bundled up in her coat but there, closer to him than she's been all day, and it's more than he should ask from her. Cordell nods, accepts this is what Stella needs right now even if it hurts him. He figures they've got some sort of score to settle, given hurting her is all he's done lately. If this is what it takes to make things right, Cordell's glad to take it.
The worst part is she's not even being mean about it, isn't using this to make Cordell feel guilty or like an ass again. Stella is just staring right ahead, curling a lip into her mouth so she can sink her teeth into the skin, and she looks so young and so sad Cordell would stop the world from turning if it meant taking that expression away from his daughter's face. Cordell is reminded that this is hard for Stella too, probably even harder than it is for him, and hates himself just that little bit more for being the reason he can't be there for her during this.
Cordell breathes in, trying to prepare himself. Stella's brought it up and he's the adult here, the one who decided he wanted to keep his distance from her that last time and he's the one who's gonna have to talk to her about it now, to mend the pieces of her broken heart.
Cordell leans closer to Stella, inching closer to her even if he knows he's not allowed to touch.
"I'm not gonna take that job," He promises. And how could he, anyway? How could Cordell have accepted the first one when he's got this, when he's got Stella and her tentative love, when he's got the chance to make it alright and finally love his girl like she deserves it?
There's hope blossoming inside Stella's chest and she hates it, tries to rip it out by the root so she can avoid having them be stomped by Cordell's boots like he's done in the past months. She hates how Cordell does her in, how he can get her all weak in the knees and her heart pounding wildly in her ribcage with just a few words. Stella's trying not to trust him, to be wary, but he's her dad and she loves him so damn much she can't bring herself to.
"You might feel different in the morning." Stella murmurs, not unkindly, finally giving Cordell a glimpse into what she feels. And, yeah, Cordell deserves that. Loving him or not, Stella's not about to make anything easier for him.
Cordell is staring at her, can't stop taking her in ever since he got back, almost sure she's not real. He loves this girl so damned much, his kid, his baby, and he can't take it anymore.
"I'm not gonna feel different about you," Cordell confides, voice hoarse, and it's all he can do to pray Stella understands what he means by it, how much he means by it. "About… being here."
About being with you, Cordell almost adds, words bubbling to the surface — but he's not stupid enough to feed into those ideas. So he holds it down, testing the waters, stares at Stella's unsure, vulnerable face and hopes he's at least showing it.
"For now," Stella retorts. Cordell, once again, knows she's not doing it to be mean. His girl's just frightened, can't be sure Cordell is really here, is really staying, and he can't say he blames her for it. God, he's such a fucking asshole.
"I'm learning," Cordell tries, and it's actually true. He is, he's trying to, he will for her. Stella hates how reasonable it sounds, how real and honest he's being. "Now's all we got."
It's a request, a masked question for a new beginning, but Cordell's not sure Stella will take it or has even understood it. Nevertheless, he holds out his hand for her, still looking at the godliness, the breathtaking beauty of his daughter, and wills himself to hope.
Stella just stares at him for a moment — almost calculating, weighing it, before her brow furrows and she decides, well, if she's already asking Cordell to stay, she might as well ask him for everything.
“Kiss me,” She says, quiet in her fierce determination, quiet enough that between Augie’s sleeping breaths and the crackling fire next to them, Cordell is sure he’s heard her wrong.
“I— What?” But Stella’s turning on her spot on the floor, getting up on her knees, jaw set and eyes blazing as she places a hand on one of Cordell’s knees.
“I want you to kiss me,” She repeats, still quiet, just as set in her decision. “You know what I want, Dad.”
Cordell is awestruck for a moment, and yes, he'd dreamed and imagined and tried his hardest to ignore anything and everything that could raise his hopes, but he's seen it. Seen it from the corner of his eye, a dream he's let pass, knowing it would hurt all that much if he thought about it more closely, knowing he would never have the guts to actually do anything about it. Right now, though, the only thing he can do is parrot Stella’s words back to her.
“You might feel different in the morning,” Cordell murmurs, even as his hand reaches down to cup the back of Stella’s head.
“I won't feel different about you, Dad.” She promises, leaning closer, stretching to meet him like a sunflower reaches for the sun even as Cordell reaches down to her. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”
Stella always expected there would be fireworks once their lips finally met. In real life, there's nothing but an exhalation — a puff of hot air from Cordell’s mouth or from hers she doesn't know, isn't sure how to separate them anymore and doesn't think it matters. It feels like coming home, the sliding of her mouth against his, the push of his tongue at her bottom lip. Like resting after stretching for soccer; the tight, screaming muscles of hers finally relaxing back into place, pain and discomfort relieved so she can breathe again.
Cordell doesn't want to pull away, not when Stella is pressing against him, her butterfly eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks and sweetheart mouth working on his, but he knows he must. He knows he needs to be the adult, knows it's risky doing this anyway, let alone with his son right next to them. So Cordell settles back against the couch, slowly, pulling his mouth from Stella’s little by little even though it makes his heart bleed.
Stella deems the conversation over at that and scuttles until she's settled against the couch. Her neck's gonna be bothering her tomorrow, Cordell knows, but he doesn't think Stella would listen to him if he tried talking her into sleeping next to him on the couch.
Cordell leans back, trying to calm his unsteady heart, as he continues to gaze at Stella. It takes every bit of his newfound willpower to stay put and not lean down, brush her hair away from her face and kiss her goodnight.