Page 41 of Hate To Love You

“What?” I jerk upright, and this time, my arms go around her. This time, it’s all adrenaline taking the place of my missing strength. I would never have let that happen. If I had been there, I wouldn’t have. No matter what age I was, I would have protected her. The fire rages through my veins, and then the ice. Hot with rage at whatever happened and then freezing cold. Because she said almost, but almost is far too close, and to think she might not be here with me now is the worst thought I’ve ever had. It makes my mouth sour all over the back of my tongue. The taste of acid. The taste of fear. “What are you talking about?”

I’m not imagining it. Her eyes are dark and liquid, like grass in the morning dew as the sun just starts to rise. It’s not emerald. That’s a watered-down word. She’s so, so much more beautiful.

“I’ll tell you, but not now. Tomorrow. When our dads leave. Once mine heads out, I’m sure yours will too. But if not, it’s okay. I’m not forcing anyone out.”

“I know where we can go. I still want to give you the surprise,” I tell her.

I need to know what happened, but I’m going to have to wait, even if it’s going to kill me.

She allows the smallest smile. She’s here right now, and she saved me tonight. She’s okay. I can take a breath, but it still feels like acid all around the back of my throat. “Or, if they’re gone, we can talk at the house. I’m sorry again that I didn’t tell you before how great it is out here. Only you would build this.”

“It came from your imagination, so technically, you built it.”

“No. I dreamed it, but you brought it to life.”

I can’t read her expression before she shifts off me, stands up, and squelches her way back into the house in her unlaced wet boots.

I can’t move. The cramps are gone, but they’re not the only thing that’s wrung me out. I can’t believe any of this happened tonight. As soon as I can move, I know what I’ll do. I’ll shower if I can, and then I’m going to make some calls. I’ll do everything I can to find Patience’s mom. I’ve messed up pretty much everything else, but that’s not even close to the motivation that’s going to drive me to do everything I can, spend every dollar it takes, and use up every single resource until I exhaust every avenue. It’s not guilt or atonement.

I have all the money in the world, but seeing Patience happy would make me a rich man.

CHAPTER 15

Patience

A treehouse.

He freaking built an enlarged model of the treehouse we had as kids, and he got all the details right as much as he could, even down to the crappy construction, so it’s still safe.

It’s hidden out in the woods. This is his surprise.

I said I didn’t want it, but I very much do want it.

My dad left this morning. He went home without me. I still cried when he pulled out of the driveway, and even though I was mad at him, we didn’t part with angry words. I never want to leave with anger between someone I love, and I do still love him.

John is still here. I’m not sure when he’s going back to Dedind, so we came out to the woods, and then Apollo revealed this place to me.

If I thought this whole deal was a fantasy before, then this treehouse makes it seem even less like reality.

All the details are accurate, down to the skylight on the roof that opens with a rope and a hook and latch. The wood is even kind of crudely cut along the edges, which I find hilarious. Some tradesmen had to build this to make it look like the kind of thing that would be constructed by a couple of kids and two dads who didn’t know what they were doing when it came to building anything because technology was their forte, not construction.

My mom lent me a cross stitch of a duck, and Apollo brought a cat poster from his bedroom for the walls. The treehouse was at his place, so I know these are the originals. Either he asked his dad to save them, or John did it on his own. I imagine it was Apollo who took them down before he left. I don’t want to imagine him doing it as a kid because that makes my heart sore, and it’s already painful enough right now.

Apollo is sitting on the black bean bag chair over to the right. I know that one isn’t original because it’s missing the giant, taped-up hole the old one used to have. He looks hilarious in it. And about ten times too big. I bet he can feel the floor through it. I’m in a blow-up chair, which is also hilarious because who the heck has blow-up chairs anymore? It’s also not original. The real one died after we got into a jumping contest and popped it. Not the brightest idea, but we were seven. What can I say?

“I don’t even have the words to describe any of this.” I want to flip over and see if my legs will reach the ceiling so I can plant my feet there like I used to.

Apollo is quiet, and I think about my dad again. I also think about my mom, who I don’t even know, and who has been trying to contact me and have a relationship with me for years. Who never stopped loving me.

This morning, when my dad left, he and John shook hands like they were agreeing to an uneasy truce. I could tell John knew something was wrong between us.

I heard Dad get up around six this morning, so I walked quietly to the kitchen to have a cup of coffee with him. I told him I would work on not being mad, but I needed space, and I wouldn’t be coming back home with him as I was going to try and find Mom. I think he expected as much. I also told him that I knew how much what happened scared him. That, even before that, he was just trying to protect me. He never forced me to stay with him after I graduated. He was a good dad. He always listened, and he always tried. He more than tried. He was always there. Maybe I should hold it against him that my mom wasn’t there when I needed her more than anything, but I won’t. I won’t because it’s useless, and I hate feeling bad. I hate things eating me up inside, and I don’t want him to spend every day feeling that way, either. It still felt tense between us when I hugged him goodbye, but he knew I loved him. He knows I’ll always love him, and space doesn’t mean forever. It just means I’m an adult, and I have my own life. He’s going to have to accept that, and it’s going to take time for both of us.

Apollo has been the patient one tonight. We came up here fifteen minutes ago, climbing up the wooden slats nailed on the tree—albeit a heck of a lot sturdier than our old one—and ducking down to even fit in here. I think the walls are a good three feet higher than our childhood treehouse because there’s no way Apollo would fit in here at all if they weren’t. Also, it’s probably wider. Way wider. I honestly can’t remember. It’s been too many years, but I imagine my childhood perceptions of the place saw it as being bigger than it was—like how all adults look like giants because they’re two or three times your height.

It’s just after eight right now. Apollo’s been patient all day. He hasn’t tried to force me to answer all the questions burning in his eyes. Instead, he hung out with his dad this afternoon while I read a book and then went for a walk around the house. Both of them gave me space. They played cards, and then I heard them discussing the rules of backgammon. He even made dinner. He wasn’t stiff at the table, and after dinner, he cleaned up.

I’m not sure if he said something to his dad, but John said he was turning in early—real early—and he told us to have a good night.

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