Forever Kinda Love

Chapter 2

Ace

I shut the front door behind me, eager to rid the beads of sweat sticking to my skin in a warm shower. But I catch Dad heading into the kitchen, so I follow him instead. We barely speak to each other anymore, but that doesn't stop me from craving his presence like a deprived child.

We fall into our morning rhythm: he makes breakfast—eggs and toast—while I pour our drinks, make a bowl of fruit, and set the table.

And wait.

Our kitchen isn't much, but it has a feeling of warmth and love. Everything in it reminds me of Mom. From the white, ceramic-tile backsplash, to the awful, pink countertop that makes me think of bubble gum. Nothing has changed in the past ten years. Maybe it's Dad's way of preserving her.

I turn my gaze to the photo of Mom, Dad, and me sitting beside the range. I'm in the middle, and they're kissing my cheeks. The picture is blurry, but something about that day was memorable, and Mom had insisted we frame it.

So we did.

Guilt tightens my chest, making it hard to breathe. That used to be our happy, perfect family. Now, we're nothing more than two people living under the same roof.

I practically jump out of my skin when Dad asks, "Salt and pepper?"

Same question, different day. "Yes, please." I walk our plates over, and he silently fills them with food.

"So," he says when we finally sit down to eat.

I shove my mouth full of eggs and chew lazily. "So . . . ?"

"Only four months of high school left. Excited?" he asks.

I gulp down some OJ. "I guess so."

"Any plans for college?"

Am I in some kind of Twilight Zone? I nod. "I applied to a few; haven't heard back from any." I don't tell him that I'm starting to doubt if further education is in my future. Most people at school already know where they're headed after graduation—most are either going to college or on some other adventure.

Me? I'm not sure what I want.

"Hmm." He scrapes the last of the food from his plate and shoves it in his mouth before leaning back in his chair. "I'm sure you'll get accepted soon enough."

There's sadness in his response, like he's afraid I'm going to leave too, and I feel the urge to assure him I'm not going anywhere.

"Dad." I reach for his hand.

He looks up, his tired, empty eyes locking with mine.

I cringe, pulling my hand back. Maybe he can't wait to get rid of me. "I-I'm going to a party next weekend. Is that okay?" I hold my breath. As much as I love my dad, I haven't asked him for permission for anything since I was twelve.

He hesitates, his eyes widening in surprise. "With adult supervision?"

Seriously? "No," I respond honestly.

Even with no ground rules, or parental guidance, I have yet to get into trouble. I've been on the honor roll my entire high school life, and I volunteer every opportunity I get. I'm even on the cheerleading squad that's been unbeatable since my sophomore year.

He stands and walks toward the sink, empty plate in hand. A faint smile appears and disappears so quickly that I question if it was just my imagination.

He turns around, and a wary smile—the kind you throw to make people think you're happy—plays on his mouth. "Do you need me to come supervise?"

"No!" I say, much too quickly and a decibel too loud. "It's just a bunch of people from school getting together, most likely to get drunk. There might even be cops involved at the end." I try to make light of the conversation.

"Will Heath be there?"

I want to crawl under the table and hide. But I don't. "Yeah."

"Okay."

I blink. So, if Heath goes, it's okay? "Just 'okay'? There's going to be boys, underage drinking, and probably some adult activities without adult supervision."

He gives me a quizzical look, then an honest-to-god, genuine smile. "Don't get drunk. Don't get pregnant. And drive home safe."

I choke back a snort, but a little bubble of giggle escapes. "Done, not a chance, and done."

Dad rubs the back of his hand over the nape of his neck. "Ace . . ."

I bring my eyes to him. "Yeah . . . Dad?"

"Nothing," he says and turns, heading toward the living room.

And just like that, everything is back to normal.

Tiny steps, Ace. Tiny steps.

With a sigh, I head toward my room to get ready for school.