Page 3 of Hate To Love You

He looked like this fourteen years ago when the divorce was finalized and two days later when my grandma called to break the news that my mom had eloped with someone else and hadn’t even bothered to tell us.

He looked like this eleven years ago when he sat me down and explained to me that Apollo was being sent away to Europe. Sent away weren’t the words he used, though. That’s what I turned it into in my head after the conversation. He went over to London because they have good schools. Prestigious colleges. Because he was going to be a swimmer there and be all famous and amazing and go to college on a full ride.

He looked like this nine years ago when he told me about the falling out he’d had with Apollo’s dad and admitted to me that he was going out on his own and becoming not a friend but a rival and taking a few employees from the company with him. Key ones.

It’s been at least eight and a half years since I last saw that expression on his face. Not since I was fifteen. All these years, we’ve been muddling through this life, trying to find our way. I know my dad isn’t perfect, but he’s my dad, and I love him. We still live in the same house. Dedind is still our home. It’s been just the two of us since Apollo broke his promise and went to London to swim. My mom left, and she never came back into our lives. Apollo’s dad, John, and my dad don’t talk anymore. He doesn’t have very many other close friends here.

I finally force myself to sit down at the table and take my dad’s hand over the scarred top. It’s been worn down and beaten up over the years. My dad breaking and parting ways with John was the worst thing he could ever have done. It’s been years and years of struggle, hardship, and barely getting by. The company always came first. That stress has probably shaved twenty years off my dad’s life. He went from being strong and youthful to a withered old man with a head of grey hair and a permanently stooped posture. He still believes in what he does, and every single day, I still feel that excitement. I stayed partly for my dad personally but partly for him professionally too.

I gather my courage. Not talking about this isn’t going to make the problem go away. “What happened?” The words still sound as strangled as my heart feels.

“I had to,” Dad responds in a weak whisper. His watery blue eyes look right through me like he can see the future, or maybe the past, when everything used to be happy. Back when he was one part of a united front. There never was room in Dedind for two tech companies. One was more than enough. It doesn’t matter that John manufactures tech for cars, and my dad believed the same diagnostics could be retooled and used for medical purposes. “I had to, honey. You know twenty people work for us. I couldn’t just hand it over. I couldn’t surrender it to him after we all worked so hard.”

“Yes, of course, I know. I’ve been working with you for nine years.” I stroke Dad’s hand, trying to hide my alarm. So many times over the years, I’ve had to be the adult. I’ve felt more like a parent than a child. In fact, I haven’t been a kid in a very long time.

Not since my mom left.

And not since Apollo was sent away and never even tried to text me, write me, email me, or anything else.

Two of the people I trusted and loved most in the world betrayed me. My brain refuses to connect any dots to what Dad is saying now. I refuse to believe he could be the third.

“What happened?” I have to prod him again despite my growing sense of dread. Not knowing is not better than knowing. I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what the problem is. “Where were you last night?”

“At John’s house.”

“What?” I reel back, dropping Dad’s hand. “Why?” He was with the enemy? In the late hours of the night?

“Playing poker. I’ve been going for years.” Those washed-out eyes finally make their way up to my face. Dad is finally looking at me, not through me. “I’ve hidden it from you.”

“What? That? That you’ve been playing poker with a man you profess to hate?” A man who was once closer than a brother? That isn’t so bad. Really, on a scale of holy shit to we’re completely fucked, and the world is over, that really isn’t so bad.

But that expression of his refuses to break. It wasn’t the poker game. What do people do when they play poker? They bet. And what does my dad have to bet? Nothing. There is zero extra in our lives right now. There’s been zero extra for a long time. Everything we have, including our time, hearts, sweat, hopes, and any extra finances, has been poured into the company. We don’t have anything except…this house.

“Oh my god!” My hand flies to my mouth, and I instinctively bite down on the side of my thumb. It’s an old habit, seeking that thumb nail to bite. “You bet this house? Tell me you didn’t lose the house.”

The house is literally all we have, and even that was remortgaged and put up as collateral when my dad bought the building the company is in now.

“I did, but he didn’t want it.”

“The company. He’s taking the company back.” I’ve never felt so sick in my life. Bile rushes up my throat, but I swallow it back. I’m not going to barf here in this kitchen, and I’m not going to freak out or break down in tears. What good will that do?

I can do more. I have to do more. If he’s done something, I have to find a way to undo it. I have to find a way to save us all.

“No.”

The word shoots through me like a shard of ice. I’ve had nightmares about being impaled on icicles. Don’t ask me why. This is like one of them coming true. Bam, icicle right through the midsection. The fact that it’s summer doesn’t register in my analogy. I still feel like I’ve been run through with an icy shard of death.

It’s that word. And the way Dad says it. No. So ominous.

If he didn’t lose the company or the house, then what did he have to bet?

“You.” He can’t look at me. I feel like I didn’t hear him right. He’s the icicle. That word is the icicle. That word is doom. Still, I shoot a finger up and point at myself. It doesn’t matter that I’m still in disbelief.

“But…but…”

“I lost to him, and he won you. He’ll make a good husband, sweetheart. He’s a good man. He’ll take care of you.”

Holy fucking sweet thunderous tarnation. Husband? What the hell?

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