After all these years, it’s clear I haven’t learned my lesson.
Do you really think he’ll talk to you? Finally ask you what it is that you love in life?my overactive imagination taunts.
You think he cares what you’ve accomplished while he was away?That he’d be excited you became an EMT like her?
My thoughts continue to mock me. The answers to those questions loom over me. But it’s my final thought before this plane lifts off the ground that really does me in.
He hasn’t missed me.
It surfaces now, my anxiety.
Claws at my insides like the raging beast that it is.
It eats its way up my esophagus from the place it’s lied dormant, waiting to strangle me.
And I berate myself. Because I let this all-consuming feeling come back for a man who doesn’t even care that I exist in the world.
CHAPTER SIX
REED
12 years old
“Reed, this is Jack.”
A rugged man with lean features takes my hand in his for a shake.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
I have to tilt my chin to meet the steel gray of his eyes. “You too.”
His smile warms behind the salt and pepper of his beard. But it isn’t until he drops his grip and takes a step back that I relax. He looks far less intimidating with a couple feet between us.
“You picked a good one,” Jack says, gesturing to the shade of navy blue that flickers between the pine branches. “It’s closest to the lake.”
I spin in a slow circle, taking in my first campsite. It’s smaller than I thought it would be—no longer than a football’s toss across. It seems a little too tight to fit two tents. Especially when Jack’s is already staked to the ground and taking up more than half the space.
My dad pops the tailgate open and drags the green canvas and pile of poles to the edge of his truck bed. “Would you mind helping Reed set up the tent while I unload the coolers?”
“Sure thing,” he says, and grabs the poles.
“Sarah made sure we’d all be well fed,” my dad adds.
Jack nods but dodges his eye contact. “She’s a good woman.”
I’d feel disappointed that my father is already pawning me off on someone else if I wasn’t busy studying their interaction. I almost miss the way my dad’s smile slips at Jack’s response.
What exactly happened to his wife?
A soft amber glow settles around us with the sun dipping beneath the skyline. I’d rather explore this place with the small window of light we have left, but I’m not given the chance. It seems they both have a knack for prioritizing work.
Dad ushers me over to where he’s standing and pushes the fabric toward my chest. It takes an aggressive amount of kneading to gather the slick material in my arms without it trailing in a tripping hazard at my feet. How bigisthis tent? I can barely make out Jack’s gray hair over the wad of canvas.
I follow the crunch of sticks and pinecones until he comes to a stop a few feet from his own tent. The poles clank as he drops them in a heap. He clears his throat as he approaches me.
“So, uh, Reed… you’re twelve, right?”
He grabs an edge of the canopy I’m holding and backs up until we’ve stretched it wide enough to send it parachuting to the ground.
