Today, I woke up with no fucks to give.
“You could. Remember, if he yells, if he throws us out, if he says shit that makes you want to rage, we leave. You’re extending an olive branch. If he doesn’t take it, that is not your fault.”
“You’re right.”
He smiles. “Look at you, being the bigger person. Never thought I’d see the day, Ken Doll.”
I playfully slap him. “Stop. I’m really nervous.”
“Just focus on the vein that pops out when he’s about to explode. Sometimes, it will dance for you,” he says, tapping his forehead. Then he moves in and kisses me softly. “For good luck.”
“I need it,” I whisper, turning toward the house.
It looks exactly the same as it always has. In the back, I can see Mom’s flower garden is starting to bloom. My eye catches the tire swing, and in the distance, there used to be a pond that I’d bravely skate on when it would freeze over. It was filled in when they built the new housing addition though.
Patterson parks in the driveway, and we sit there for a minute, staring at the front door.
“We don’t have to do this,” he says. “We can go back to the city.”
“I have to.” I take a deep breath and open my door.
“You can still do a triple axel, Kendall. And land it perfectly. That’s a lot fucking harder than dealing with your stubborn, hardheaded dad,” he offers. “Tell him you love him, no matter what. He won’t push you away. Trust me, it’s how Addison got out of every shitty situation.”
I chuckle. “Good to know. But she probably learned that from her older brothers.”
“Absolutely,” he says. “Now go and show your dad why they call you The Destroyer.”
A minute later, we’re standing on the porch, hands intertwined. Patterson’s relaxed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and maybe he doesn’t. I give him a smile and open my mouth to speak when my mom opens the door. She notices our hands are interlocked and grins wide.
“I knew it.”
“Heading somewhere?” I ask, noticing she’s wearing one of her famous pantsuits.
“I was going to drink mimosas with my bestie,” she says.
I chuckle. “Mom, it’s eight in the morning.”
“I know, but I didn’t know you were coming. Your dad is upstairs in his office.” She glances between us. “He’s in a mood.”
“Ahh,” Patterson says. “Hate it when he comes to practice like that. Almost feel sorry for my teammates.”
She opens the door. “Coach, I’m heading out. Going to meet Shannon.”
“Okay. I love you,” my dad calls from upstairs.
Mom shoos us both past her, then leaves to meet her friends.
“He’s in a bad mood this morning,” Patterson warns sarcastically.
“What else is new?” I ask.
He laughs. “I know where you get your temper from.”
“Shut up,” I say, playfully smacking him. “We have to be serious.”
“Oh, right.” Patterson snaps and turns his smile off. At least he tries. It immediately comes back.
Seconds later, I’m standing in the doorway of his office, watching him watch game films. Patterson moves behind me, and my father looks up from his desk. For a second, he stares at us.
