Page 10 of The Forbidden Summer
He chuckles. “I’m enjoying the show. Besides, you’re not drowning. You’re just... pretending for the drama.”
I throw my hands up in mock frustration. “Pretending? Really?” I kick my legs harder, sending more water his way. "You know what? Fine. I’ll drown. See if I care."
“You might want to reconsider that,” he calls, uncrossing his arms and stepping closer to the water's edge. “If you drown, who’s gonna split the rest of those logs?”
I float for a moment, staring up at the sky and considering my options. Then, with a sigh, I swim toward the shore, disappointed he isn’t going to join me.
“Guess I’m safe for now,” I mutter, dragging myself up on the rocks.
Père reaches down a hand to help me out, and I grab it reluctantly. “You know, for someone who just got thrown in the lake, you sure seem to be taking it well.”
I wipe the water from my face, trying to act annoyed, though I’m secretly grateful for the hand. “Yeah, well, the least youcould’ve done was give me a warning. You know, let me prepare. Maybe toss me a floatie next time.”
“A floatie, huh? And here I thought you liked a little danger.”
I swat him playfully, then stand and wring my shorts out. “You know what? I’m seriously reconsidering who I spend my time with.”
Père’s laugh cracks like thunder. “Don’t act like you’re not having fun, kid. Youknowyou’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
Panic freezes my breath. “Don’t say shit like that, old man. You’re going to live forever.” What kind of world would this be without him in it? Not one I’d want to live in, that’s for sure.
Père’s eyes widen, clearly not expecting the way my voice cracked. “Easy there, son. I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.”
But the way he says it—lighthearted and casual—doesn’t change the stone settling in my chest. I hang my head, trying to brush off the unease, but the thought of him not being around, of losing him, hits me harder than I care to admit.
“You’re right, you’re not going anywhere,” I mutter, focusing on the log I was about to split. The sound of the axe meeting the wood is loud enough to drown out the sudden buzzing in my ears.
But Père doesn’t let me off the hook that easily. He steps closer, his presence as big and steady as always. “Hey, I know you’ve got a lot on your mind. But it’s okay, you don’t have to act tough all the time.”
I scoff, not wanting him to see the sudden vulnerability creeping in. “I’m fine. Just... don’t make me think about losing you, okay?”
He studies me for a long moment before a soft smile tugs athis lips, a knowing one that makes my stomach twist in all the wrong ways. “You’re not going to lose me. Not if I have any say in it. Haven’t you heard? Fifty-six is the new thirty.”
I drop my axe, suddenly losing interest in the work I usually find invigorating and even cathartic at times. A wave of sadness sweeps me away. Père gathers me in his arms, his deep voice rough in my ear.
“It’s okay, sweet boy. I’m all yours, and we have all the time in the world together.”
His words vibrate deep down in my soul. The last time he called me his sweet boy, I must have been twelve. Lifting my head to meet his eyes, I can see his heart in them. He hadn’t meant to scare me, and I don’t want to make him feel bad for it.
“Promise?”
Père tips my chin in his calloused fingers. His warm lips land softly on mine. A chaste kiss with heart. A vow wrapped in a hug.
And wayyyyyyy too brief.
“I promise.”
I stand there for a moment, held in the warmth of his embrace, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath my ear. His arms are like a fortress around me, the kind I’ve always relied on, the kind that never falter.
But in this moment, I realize just how much I depend on him. He isn’t just the guy who raised me, who taught me how to fish, how to carve, how to be a man. He’s my anchor, the one constant in a life that felt anything but predictable.
I pull back just enough to look at him, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone, Père.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just studies me withthat soft, understanding look. Then, after what feels like forever, he gives me a small, reassuring smile.
“Kid,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead, “you’re not alone. Not ever.”
I know that. And yet, hearing him say it out loud, feeling the truth of it in the way his arms held me, makes everything feel just a little more solid.
