Page 14 of Hate To Love You

Yeah, that was before it was the reason Apollo disappeared from my life.

I stand up abruptly. “I don’t anymore. I’m going to call my dad.” Time to get Operation Get The Hell Out Of Here ASAP into action.

CHAPTER 5

Apollo

The first few days are rough in the mushroom house. It’s more like a mushroom malice instead of a mushroom palace.

Patience is pissed at me. She wears her resting I’m never going to not be pissed at you face at all times. Letting her guard down consists of her frowning, just not at me, or her face going utterly still and flat and pretty much straight-up unhappy. I don’t like it when people are mad at me. It makes me feel that yucky, uncomfortable, trapped, and sick feeling.

I felt a lot of that when I left home. When I was across an ocean, apart from some of the only family I had left. I got over it because I had to get over it. Coming home wasn’t an option. I needed to do well and get a scholarship, or I knew I’d be paying student loans for a very long time. Most of all, I knew my dad wanted it for me. I wanted to make him proud like I’d never wanted anything.

I also always kept that image of my mom up there in the sky as an angel watching me, even after I should have been older and pragmatic.

Maybe I was doing it for her too. Maybe I wanted to make her proud as well.

Anyway, I know why Patience is mad. I know she feels trapped, and I know she’s frustrated. No amount of mushroom or skunk or wilderness goodness is going to undo those vows we both took. I’m trying, though. I’m trying to help her see the good in this, but I’m starting to have my doubts. Maybe this isn’t going to work. Maybe none of it is going to work.

These are all the thoughts I’m grappling with. Pretty sure it’s three-something in the morning, but I don’t want to turn my phone on and check. Our dads are both getting in tomorrow. My dad in the morning. Hers in the evening. We didn’t want to chance that they’d meet each other at the airport or end up on the same flight.

We aren’t any closer to coming up with a plan as to how to ease them into talking again, forgiving each other, and coming to an understanding.

It makes sense because we’re no closer to any of that either.

She’s ignored me, avoided me, and acted like she was cast in stone these past few days. She’s gone into the woods, but not far, and she’s so quiet. She’s clearly trying to hide what she’s feeling and thinking.

We need a game plan for our dads. It’s not enough to remind them that they used to be besties, they raised us as single dads, and they need each other. That they’re acting like kids. We need more than that because they know these things. It just hasn’t sunk in.

Whatever we do, it has to work. The angry, grouchy, hating each other, competitive, surly, gnarly dad situation has to be diffused. After that, we’re going to need something enticing for both of them, a reason for them to stay. Something non-competitive and non-threatening. Something so awesome that they can’t say no.

A start-up company? No. Better not talk about companies.

Picking out a cat? As far as I know, I’m still allergic, but I can work on that. Like take pills or meds or get shots or something. My dad never really liked pets in the house, and Patience’s dad wouldn’t let her even have a goldfish, so they probably won’t want to do that.

The awesome pool might be hecking awesome, but it’s not hecking awesome enough.

What about bribery? Gaslighting? Or telling them that they’re hurting their kids with this anger, separation, and distance, and they need to start working on healing their families because they’re a single unit now?

Arrrrrrrraaaawwwwww!

Holy freaking god. What the fuck was that?

I don’t just sit upright. I bolt upright. And the sheets go flying. It’s a good thing Bitty Kitty isn’t in here because the bed is a mess. I race to the door and fling it open.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Oh my god. It sounds like a panther is caught in the house. Or a fox is doing its blood-curdling scream. Something is being murdered in here.

I careen around the corner, heading toward the sound.

Arrrrrraahhhhhhhhhh!

Shit on a stick. There really is something wild in here. I’m the most all about peace and love a person can be, and I don’t believe in owning a gun, even for protection out here in the woods. I don’t have an axe for cutting firewood either because the house is high-efficiency, and I don’t have a fireplace. I didn’t want to cut down trees. The house has lots of solar technology going on, too, and complicated water systems. It’s as eco-friendly as most houses could ever be. So yeah, no wood. No axe. The kitchen knife block? If there’s a panther in here, what am I going to do with a butter or steak knife? Because I don’t dare get anything bigger. It would probably get turned against me.

Swift, tiny footsteps come racing swiftly around the corner, and a blur of pink and white nearly runs straight into me. I put out my arms and stop the blur mid-motion before there’s a collision.

“There’s something in the house!” Patience wails. She’s white. Completely ghostly white.

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