Page 3 of Hidden Memories

Facing my father right now isn’t easy. He’s let me down as many times as Nicholas had. I turn my back on him to go into the en suite and finish packing the last of things. Dad chases behind me, much more closely than I’m comfortable with. Maybe if he ever hugged me as a child, I wouldn’t mind him in my personal space.

I place my toothbrush in my toiletry bag.

“Katinka Helen Castellanos, I will not have you turn your back on me. Face your father when he’s speaking to you!”

Spit lands on my neck. When I twist, he’s gone from pink to full-on crimson. I pissed him off.

He speaks through gritted teeth. “Tell me the real reason you’re leaving.”

I never thought in a million years my moving out of this house would cause such anger.

“I told you. We want a fresh start. I’m pretty sure that’s not unusual for a widow.”

There’s an accusation in his tone that tells me this is about more than moving house. “Not when the dirt is still fresh on her husband’s grave, it isn’t.”

My father is standing closer than I like. Unlike Nic, Dad has never put his hands on me, but never once in my thirty-one years have I stopped thinking it could happen.

When my father gets angry, it’s like a strained balloon that’s one blow from popping.

I brush past him to get some air. “I’ve already sorted our new place and a spot in a school in Mount Hamilton for Theo next semester.”

“Mount Hamilton! What on earth would you do in a scrubby place like that?”

“Actually, we’re moving into a farmhouse in Mission.”

“Mission!” He says it like it’s even worse than Mount Hamilton. “There is absolutely nothing in the middle of nowhere for a young man like Theo. He needs to be around opportunity and schools where he can build lifelong connections.”

Because my father thinks your network is your net worth and you can never start building it too young.

“Theo will like something more rural,” I insist. “Being outside is his thing.”

The farmhouse I found was near my old stables from when I had Ares. I always loved the area; it’s peaceful and serene. It’s only just over an hour from here… plus, and most importantly, it’s affordable. Northern California isn’t cheap, but small towns with not much going for them still have reasonable rents.

My dad throws his hands on his hips. “What are you doing between now and him starting school?”

“I’ll homeschool for the rest of this semester.”

The belittling scoff that escapes him stabsat my heart. A sarcastic laugh follows, and his words are even worse than the dark humor he finds in me being a teacher.

“You were never any good at school.”

And just like that, I’m thirteen again. My throat constricts, and my voice box drops heavily into my stomach. This is the point where I usually become speechless in his presence. But not today.

“We’re moving. I won’t change my mind. Theo is mine now to guide, and I know what’s best for him.”

“Do you?” my father ridicules. “Without Nicholas here, Theo will probably have dreadlocks and be smoking marijuana before he’s eleven.”

I push away the hatred that begs to consume me with rage. When my father speaks like this, I have to fight the total disdain.

“And tell me,” he smiles like an assassin, “with this probate malarkey, how do you intend to pay your bills? Hm?”

Most husbands and wives share a deed. Share bank accounts and assets. Not me and Nicholas. Everything was in his name. And in the final twist of a knife, some lawyer had instructions to apply for probate in the event of his death. It’s a nightmare.

Technically, I still don’t own this house, and none of his money has been transferred to me. This could take months. Years.

Even for Nicholas this is insane. Did he not care one bit about Theo? Or did he and my dad plan this together? Not settling the will certainly handed the baton back to my father.

Since Nic’s death, I’ve been receiving an allowance like I’m a child again.

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