Page 7 of Paper Thin Love

The doctor glances at me and then back at my dad. I know what he’s wondering. Did my dad do this?

“Thanks, Doc,” I grin sarcastically.“Daddy here is going to make me all better, aren’t you, Pops?”

The tension in the room goes from uncomfortable to sweltering. Dr. Kasper inches back like the remnants of a melted popsicle, trying to remain solid on the wooden stick.

“You may leave,” Dad orders Dr. Kasper without giving him another glance.He leaves, taking away all my fun. Now it’s just Daddy Dearest and me.

Dad runs a hand through his hair. I watch it shine and look more yellow under the fluorescent lights of the hospital room.The King men have genetically built-in halos, otherwise known as our golden blonde hair. However, Titan is the only one of my cousins who got the famous honey golden tresses. I guess it is appropriate since he is the eldest.Damian is the black sheep. He got his mom’s dark hair and slightly tanner skin.My hair? Well, it’s my mom’s shade of icy white blonde. It always made Mom look so ethereal, like an ice queen. I guess now it makes her look more angelic in heaven.

Dad’s halo? Well, it is starting to tarnish. It is no longer solid gold but is now tinged with silver. I thought it would make me happy to see him age and die, but seeing silver in his hair now just reminds me of Mom and her icy blonde shade.

“I don’t have time for these childish games,” Dad finally says. He hasn't looked directly at me. That, well, it hurts more than the broken bones.

Why do I still want his attention?

Because I am a fool.

“You didn’t have to come,” I mutter as I glance down at the contraption they have my leg bound in.

This…isn’t good. I am weak. Exposed. I realize it now; the haze has lifted, and I understand why Titan and Damian are so concerned.

“You need to disguise your wants better,” Dad tucks his hands into his custom-fitted trouser pockets. He has a famous tailor from Savile Row fly to him to make his suits. He made my suit for Mom’s funeral.

“You want me here. You just admitted it through your denial. Calling me would have been simpler." He glances at my cast for a moment as if the sight is repulsive.“Now look what you’ve done.”

He tugs at his collar, "Your enemies will see your desires through your actions, and they will use it to destroy you."

“And are you?”

Dad’s golden brow inches up.“Am I what?”

I swallow and look at his nose, avoiding his eyes.“My enemy?”

Dad takes one step that sends my heart into palpitations, then another. The sound of his custom shoes striking the floor echoes like plate tectonics shifting beneath a mountain—monumental.

That’s my father—a King. I dwell in his shadow, but one day, I will be shaped into the man I despise—the father I once cherished.

“Every man is an enemy,” Dad coldly replies.

What about a father?

He shakes his head.“Money,” then shrugs his wide shoulders,“power,” he continues,“They don’t make the world go round. They don’t drive men to continue trying to survive this messed-up life.”

He pauses, his voice dropping to a grave tone.“It’s lust, son. Men lust, and that motivates everything. You could be a fool and trust a man with your life, even a man you call father. Something will cross his path that will tempt him, and that lust will stab you in the back.”

He rolls his shoulders back, eyes narrowing.“Don’t trust another, not even yourself. Your heart and mind are constantly at war. Don’t trust your cousins with your life; one day, they could lust for your empire. Build walls, reinforce them, and keep those you love on the other side. That’s the only way to survive.”

There’s my answer. In a way, I’m grateful he’s finally revealed why he won’t look me in the eye, why he ceased being a father the moment Mom was diagnosed with cancer. He built a wall and kept me on the outside, isolating himself in his guarded solitude.

My throat tightens as if I’m about to slip into anaphylactic shock, but I muster the courage to confront him. Every aspect of my life seems crafted into a test or a lesson; this moment is no exception.

“Is that what you did with Mom? Kept her on the other side of the wall?”

Slowly, like a butcher admiring a newly sharpened blade, he glides his tongue over his teeth.“No,” he admits.

His response shocks me.

“I let her inside—a place no one had been before, nor will anyone be again.” He turns to leave, then pauses, bracing the door frame with his right hand.“You think I’m living?” he asks, his voice low.“You think I’ve moved on with my business and life without her?”

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