Page 73 of Seeds of Love
My grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles gone white. I’ve seen this crap my whole life, but now it feels different—like staring into a mirror that shows not who I am, but who I could become.
I pull into the driveway, and our house greets me like it’s been stuck in a never-ending cycle of decline. The peeling paint, the patchy lawn—it's basically screaming “We're broke as fuck!”I plaster on a smile, though it feels heavy, and drag my ass out of the car.
“Freddie!” Megan bursts out the door with the kind of speed that could only come from years of pent-up energy. At eighteen, she’s all elbows and knees, her movements sharp but full of life, enough to power a city if it had a socket to plug into. “You made it!”
“Wouldn’t miss your eighteenth for the world, Meg,” I chuckle, ruffling her hair. Her face scrunches at the old nickname. “Where’s the parental units?”
“Inside. Dad’sresting”—she does the air quotes—”and Mom’s finishing the cake.”
My smile slips for a second at the mention of Dad resting. It’s code for “too fucked up to function,” but I shove that thought aside as I follow Megan inside.
The house is like a time capsule of better days, family photos grinning at us from every surface. My eyes catch on the Denver acceptance letter, proudly displayed on the fridge. Seeing it there, all official with its golden seal, makes my stomach twist. Even with the full ride, Denver’s expensive as hell. Books, housing, food—it all adds up.
The letter seems to stare back at me, challenging.Well? What are you going to do about it, big brother?
“Did you see?” Meg bounces next to me, practically vibrating with excitement. “They even have a special honors dorm for scholarship students!”
“That’s awesome, Meg.” I try to match her enthusiasm, but my mind’s already calculating costs that might appear.
Mom appears, wiping her hands on a dishtowel that’s seen better days. “Freddie, honey!” She hugs me tight, and I can’t help but notice she feels thinner than at Christmas. She pulls back and beams at me. “Perfect timing—your father’s having a good day. He’s in the den.”
“Actually,” I clear my throat, “I’ve got some news I want to share with everyone.” I’m not sure why I’m saying it before anything’s official. I’ve only been put forward as a candidate, but for once, I want to give them a sliver of hope—something to believe in. That maybe, just maybe, I could step up.
Mom’s eyes light up. “News? Good news?”
“Yeah, I think so.” The words feel rough on my tongue, like sawdust. “Let’s sit down?”
Dad’s in his recliner, looking more like a deflated version of the man I remember. The TV drones on in the background, the sound a constant buzz that fills the room with static. He struggles to sit up straighter as we walk in, and the effort tugs at something in my chest, making it ache.
“There’s my boy!” His smile is genuine, even though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come to celebrate your sister’s big achievement?”
“Actually,” I start, my heart hammering in my throat, “I might have some news too.” Three pairs of eyes lock onto me, full of expectation. Hope. It makes my stomach churn. “Dr. Reeves, my advisor? He’s put me forward for a graduate position at EcoTech. It’s not definite yet, but... it’s looking good.”
The reaction is instant. Mom gasps, hands flying to her mouth. Dad sits up straighter than I’ve seen in months. Even Meg squeals, her voice sharp with excitement.
“EcoTech?” Dad’s voice carries more strength than usual. “The huge mining company? Son, that’s... that’s incredible!”
“The money in those jobs...” Mom trails off, but her eyes are already calculating, no doubt adding up medical bills, college expenses—everything they’ve been struggling to afford.
“Nothing’s certain yet,” I try to temper their excitement, but it’s like trying to stop a freight train with a paper shield.
“But it’s EcoTech!” Dad leans forward, energy radiating from him like static electricity. “They’re the biggest name in thebusiness. The kind of company that could set you up for life. Set all of us up.”
The weight of their expectations settles on my shoulders, heavier than I want it to be. Mom’s already blinking back tears, probably imagining a future where she doesn’t have to work double shifts. Dad looks more alive than he has in months. And Meg—Christ, Meg’s practically glowing.
“This is perfect timing,” Mom says, squeezing my hand. “With your sister going to Denver... We were worried about the extra expenses, but with a job like that...”
“Mom,” I try to interrupt, but she’s on a roll.
“And your father’s new treatment options—the ones the insurance won’t cover? Now maybe we can actually consider them!”
My stomach lurches. I didn’t even know there were new treatment options. Of course there are—and, of course, they can’t afford them.
“When will you know for sure?” Dad asks, leaning forward in his chair. “About the job?”
“Soon,” I manage, voice tight. “They’re still interviewing candidates.”
“But your professor thinks you’ve got a good shot?”
