"Dad, can I talk to you?" I ask him, standing by the doorway. He stops stirring the food and dusts his hands off, turning towards me.
"Of course, what's wrong?"
"Privately?" I suggest, giving him an apologetic look. He nods at me, his jaw still clenched slightly as I step outside onto the porch. The wooden decking creaks underneath me and I take a seat on the swing, staring aimlessly out into the dark woods. Despite it being pitch black and resembles something from a horror movie, it doesn't scare me.
Dad silently takes a seat next to me, the swing creaking from the weight of both of us. I turn towards him, chewing nervously on my bottom lip. I rarely get nervous.
"I'm sorry."
He remains quiet and the guilt inside of me increases. I sigh deeply and swallow my pride, taking his hand in mine.