Page 10 of Lose You to Find Me

Rubbing the back of my neck, I readjust in the chair and look at the TV, which is playing a golf game. Dad hates golf. “Don’t worry about it. Want me to see if there’s something else on the television?”

He blinks, slowly looking up as if he didn’t even know there was anything on. “I don’t mind this. Why else would I go to all your games and watch you play it?”

I blink. “I didn’t play golf.”

For a moment, he looks perplexed by that. It takes him a few seconds before he slowly nods in realization. “Right, right. Football. Damn good player too. I remember when that coach of yours back in high school talked to your mom and me about convincing you to talk to the recruiters.”

“He wanted me to consider somewhere other than Lindon. I didn’t know he talked to you guys about it.”

Dad hums. “Many times. Said Notre Dame was watching you. A shame.”

A shame?He never seemed interested in me pursuing that career path.

For the rest of the night, he watches the television screen as if he’s always been a huge fan of the boring sport playing. I remember all the times he’d rant about how slow the game was and how nothing exciting ever happened unless a gator popped up from whatever green they were on down south. When Mom bought him a polo shirt, Dad said he’d wear it when they went out to a nice dinner and then lied about it suffering a washing machine accident.

The quiet gives me time to do some homework at least, with Dad asking questions every so often. I don’t bring up any changes to the store again or his diminished memory, and he doesn’t ask about them.

It’s a little bittersweet, but I let it go.

When visiting hours get close to ending, I readjust my feet where they’re propped on the end of the bed and ask, “How are you really feeling? No bullshitting me. I know you try saving Mom’s feelings from getting hurt, but I want to know the truth.”

His eyes trail to mine with hesitation, the glassy, dark orbs showing just how unwell he really is without him having to confirm it. “It’s not that I’m trying to preserve anybody’s feelings, Caleb.”

I watch as my old man’s throat works with a thick emotion that I can’t even begin to imagine. He’s never been very vulnerable with his feelings, at least not to me. So whatever is clouding his eyes, making them glaze over with fresh tears that he fights to hold back, tells me that he’s got more going on internally than he allows any of us to know.

His Adam’s apple bobs again. “I’m tired, son. So damn tired. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared too, but I think I’m starting to accept things. So don’t think I’m trying to downplay anything for you and your mother. We all have to make peace with the life we’re given, and I think it’s my turn to do that. No more fighting the inevitable. Sometimes you simply have to accept it.”

There’s nothing for me to say after that.

He pats my arm, as if he understands the turmoil going on in my head.

Not even I do, though.

Chapter Four

RAINE

Abead ofsweat trickles down the side of my temple as I pull my hair back into a tight updo and perch on the edge of the pool while dipping my feet into the water. I release a sigh of relief and lean back, closing my eyes and listening to kids laughing, adults gossiping, and dogs barking in the distance.

My ears perk up to the sound of somebody dropping down beside me. Christopher Hayes, one of my summertime buddies who comes to town for a few weeks during the season, shoots me the same goofy smile that’s usually on his face.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” I tease, nudging his shoulder with mine.

It’s hard to imagine that the boy sitting next to me used to be the shortest one in our friend group since he’s well over six feet now. He’s also paler than me, which is evident in the way his Irish skin all but glows in the glaring sunlight.

“Did you put on sunblock?” I ask, a little worried about him going shirtless. I don’t blame him since it’s ninety-four today, but I remember a few years ago when he got sun poisoning and was sick for weeks.

Chris rolls his eyes, sliding his legs into the pool that our elderly neighbors always leave open for people to enjoy. “You’re such a mom,” he muses.

A twinge of pain settles into my stomach at the teasing jab.

In exasperation, he adds, “My mom wouldn’t let me leave the house until she watched me put it on.”

My eyes do a scan of the lawn to see if Mrs. Hayes is out here with her adorable French bulldog. “I haven’t seen her much this summer. I haven’t had a chance to stop and fuss over Pumpkin when they’re out walking.”

The face he makes has me smiling. “She heard about all the bear sightings and has been terrified to walk her usual trail. One of my cousins showed her TikTok videos of bears going after tiny dogs, so now she’s petrified of bringing Pumpkin anywhere people have reported seeing the cubs. I’ll tell her you said hi. I’m not sure she’s coming today.”

I frown. “That makes two moms then.”

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