THIRTY-EIGHT
Dad and Darren’svoices fade into background noise as we sit on the back deck at my parents' place, and I watch Hunter and Sophie happily kick a soccer ball around in the yard. The ball bounces between them, all energy, noise, and light, and I let my eyes track it across the lawn as my mind slips further away with every pass.
To Thursday night.
To the way Alder aimed his gun at an RCMP officer with no hesitation or uncertainty, and pulled the trigger with an unshakable stillness.
To Henry’s body falling into the dirt, and Alder walking towards me in complete control of the entire situation… and me. He did what needed to be done, and he was a force to be reckoned with.
He was terrifying. And I never felt safer.
So much so that I slept in his arms that night, and it was the best sleep I’ve had in months.
I don’t know what that means. I just know it felt good.
Ifelt good.
Until I was late for office hours and walked in with Omar already watching me, like he expected me to screw up again and was just waiting for confirmation that I can’t hold it together.
“Cade?”
“Hm?” I blink and turn back toward the table where everyone’s looking at me expectantly.
Claire lifts the coffee pot. “More coffee?”
“Oh. Uh…” I glance down at my empty mug, wishing I could put something else in it. “Sure.”
She smiles and leans over to pour more into my mug. The steam curls up, twisting in the late morning sunshine, and I try to focus on that instead of Darren’s eyes watching me closely.
But I can’t.
“What?” I ask him, more sharply than I intended. Or maybe not… I am still pissed at him.
He sighs and looks away from me. “Nothing,” he mutters.
But I know it’s not. I know he’s hurt. And he should be. I’ve been acting like an asshole, pushing him away and snapping at him when all he’s trying to do is be a brother.
I know I’m doing damage. But I’m fucking drowning, and this is the only thing I know how to do. It’s just… safer. For all of us.
“So, lectures are finished for the semester,” Dad says, setting his mug down. “How’d it go?”
I shrug. “Fine, I guess. Same as usual.”
Even though it’s not. But I don’t tell them I’m one missed meeting away from a contract review, and probation could be in my near future. I just take a long sip of my coffee and hope they drop it, and stop shining the light on everything I’m failing to hold together. Because all my effort to keep myself stitched up is tearing everything else apart.
Everyone is silent for a moment, watching me like they’re waiting for me to share more. About what? Do they really wantto know how Connor asked a million questions about non-locality, or how, as a collective whole, this class couldn’t seem to grasp the difference between a probability wave and a physical particle, no matter how many times I broke it down?
“So what’s the plan for summer now?” Mom asks, stirring sugar into her coffee. “Any new students starting with you?”
I nod and let out a quiet breath as Hunter sends the ball flying past Sophie and throws both arms in the air like he just scored in the World Cup. “An undergrad’s starting her honours research with me.”
Which, of course, has to be Janine. The anxious overthinker who talks about quantum mechanics like it’s some divine calling. Why can’t she be obsessed with magnetic field interactions? Annika would be perfect for her.
“That’ll be a nice change, I’m sure,” Dad says. “You’ve only had graduate students for a while.”
I huff. “I can guarantee it won’t be.”
Silence falls over the table again, and I glance down at my coffee, wondering if I can take a walk to my car and slip some rum in it. Especially when I see everyone share a look like they’re daring someone to make the next move as they circle a bomb they don’t know how to defuse.
