Misadventure

67

Harry's POV

Gemma arrived a bit before sundown. Evan and her were holding hands as they walked through the kitchen door.

Her mannerisms bothered me whenever she came to visit here at the house. She would ask Dad if she should remove her shoes by the door: a question you would never ask in your own home,

She was polite and smiley, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Her and Evan kept a safe distance from Holly, Dad and myself. It didn't feel like a family dinner. It felt like those two were a family, and they were having dinner with our family.

And no matter how much I tried reaching out and making conversation with them, it still felt like there was this invisible barrier I couldn't seem to breech.

"You've barely touched your fancy-spaghetti," Dad noted, frowning.

(Fancy-spaghetti was Dad-jargon for spaghetti made with red sauce that came in a jar with little chunks of garden vegetables in it, as opposed to red sauce that came in a tin can, and only cost pocket change).

It still sent a pang through my chest every time I spoke to him, and it took him longer than it would before to formulate an answer, due to his head injuries sustained in the accident. Or when I looked at him, and was reminded that his face was now covered in scars.

"I'm not feeling great," I muttered, staring down at my plate. He was right. I'd barely eaten anything. I'd been too busy twirling my fork around in my pasta, eyebrows furrowed, lost in my own mind.

I looked up as I felt him press the back of his hand against my forehead. His eyes met mine. His frown deepened.

"You don't feel warm. What's the matter, H?"

"I'm okay," I answered weakly. It didn't sound all that convincing. "Just a bit tired."

"I know that look. That's his 'I miss Louis Tomlinson' face," Gemma said. "Where is the lad anyways? He couldn't make it to dinner?"

Oh Gemma. She could read me like I book, but failed miserably at reading the room.

Dad coughed awkwardly. Holly looked down at her hands. Gemma and Evan exchanged confused glances, then she looked back at me. "What? What did I say?"

I sighed, setting down my fork. I didn't have an appetite before, and I especially didn't have an appetite now. "Louis and I are taking a little break."

"Oh." Gemma's face reddened.

Yeah.

Oh was right.

There was a tension at the table for the remainder of dinner. We ate in silence. I only managed a few bites before I felt queasy. It wasn't even the food making me feel this way; It was everything I'd lost that was hard to swallow.

What happened? How did I keep coming so close to having everything I'd ever wanted, only for something to go wrong? This wasn't a new phenomenon. It was the same pattern I'd been stuck in for years now.

When Dad and I had first reconnected junior year of high school, it was because Mum had died.

When Louis and I got together at university, Gemma and I had a falling out.

Now Gemma was here, but Louis was gone.

And poor Dad. He'd been alone for so long. He finally met someone, and was just starting to live the life he'd deserved all along. He'd clearly been so excited to swoop in like a knight in shining armor and save Holly's farm, then live happily ever after, only to wind up in a wheelchair, still unable to walk after nearly a month of physical therapy. Farm work seemed out of the picture.