Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
I need a fucking nap.
The buzz of Dad’s chainsaw cuts through the air like nails on a fucking chalkboard, every slice of the blade through wood sending a fresh wave of irritation through my already frayed nerves.
I grab another log and toss it onto the pile, stifling my third yawn in five minutes.
I’m running on two hours of sleep, and this is hour four of splitting and hauling firewood.
Combine that with the almost two-hour drive here from Fredericton, and I’m barely functioning.
“You’re working too hard,” Dad calls out as he kills the chainsaw and sets it aside.
I eye him as I grab a few more logs, knowing for a fact that’s not true. I’m dragging my ass today.
“Not this,” he adds, waving vaguely in my general direction. “It’s pretty sad when a seventy-year-old can outwork his fit thirty-two-year-old son.” He bends down to grab some logs and winks at me. “But you seem tired, and we don’t see you much. I’m worried you might be over-exerting yourself.”
Guilt rises as I stack a log on the pile.
He’s not wrong. I haven’t been around much lately, and the only reason I’m here now is because I knew Dad was going to try to cut all these fallen trees on his own.
And yes, I’ve been working a lot, but I haven’t been so busy I couldn’t make time.
I just… didn’t. The weekends have started to blur together as I spend them at home, alone, with a bottle in hand.
And that has been feeling easier than facing anyone or anything.
“Yeah.” I nod, avoiding his eyes as I grab another log. “I’ve been making progress with my research, and my doctoral student is publishing this month. I’ve been busy.”
Dad’s quiet for a moment, and when I slide my gaze to his, the guilt digs in deeper.
He’s smiling at me—fully lit up with quiet, earnest pride.
If he knew the truth, he wouldn’t be smiling right now.
Because what I do with my life is nothing to be proud of.
But I force a smile back at him, hating that I’ve lost count of the number of lies I’ve told just today.
“So, last time we talked about your research, you were looking into entropy something… in closed systems?” Dad asks, piling some logs into his arms. “Where are we at now?”
I watch him for a moment as he stacks the logs.
Dad has always been a hands-on guy in every area of his life.
He's an electrician by trade, and even now that he’s retired, he’s still the first to jump in and build or fix something, and help wherever he can.
And with me, this is how he shows up. He’s never studied physics formally, but he reads every paper I publish.
Not because he loves the subject… I know he doesn’t understand most of it.
But because it’s mine. It’s his way of staying close and having something to talk to me about, even when I don’t give him much to work with.
I nod, stepping forward again to stack more logs. “I’m working on entropy production in open quantum systems. Trying to isolate the energy cost of erasing information at small scales and running simulations to see how entropy shifts when quantum processes aren’t perfectly reversible.”
Dad nods slowly. “Ah, yes. I remember you talking about this. Something about disappearing particles, right?”
I cock an eyebrow at him, surprised he remembered that. “Kind of… It’s about the cost of making them disappear, and what that tells us about the system.”
“Ah.” He rolls his eyes and taps his temple with a smirk. “Obviously. Should’ve known.”
I huff a quiet laugh and bend to grab the last of the logs.
“And… everything else?” Dad asks.
I pause, closing my eyes with a subtle sigh before I stand up straight again and slap on a smile. “Great.”
But I can tell he doesn’t buy it. He eyes me for a moment before a soft, sad smile touches his lips. “Good.”
Another sigh escapes me as I turn to the woodpile and slowly stack the logs as silence stretches between us, heavy with words left unsaid.
My eyes drift across the yard, searching for something to hold on to.
Some kind of easy, bright memory I can reach for and try to convince myself I’m not completely broken.
I remember playing back here with friends, following Darren around like he was my hero, helping Dad build the fence, riding my bike in endless loops… it was the perfect childhood.
Or at least, it should have been.
I had everything a kid could need—loving, present parents, a big brother who looked out for me, a safe home, quiet streets, calm days. Even being twelve years younger than Darren, an accident no one ever called an accident, I never doubted I was wanted.
And yet, I always felt like I was arriving late. Like the story was already written before I even showed up. I always had this sense that I was out of place everywhere I went, and I missed some unspoken lesson everyone else had learned.
So the memories that stick with me aren’t the happy ones.
They’re the ones where I disappeared. Where I slipped into the woods behind the house to lie on the forest floor with damp leaves under my back.
I’d stare up at the canopy of trees, trying to figure out how the light broke through them, why it moved the way it did, and how things worked. Why they mattered.
In a world that always felt slightly off-axis, physics became the one thing I could sink into. It offered structure, logic, and a way to explain the chaos of this universe. Even the messiest systems had rules I could trace, if I looked closely enough.
And when I’m in it, I can become just a mind, and forget that I’m failing at being a person.
It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense.
And somehow, all of that added up to now.
To me, standing in this yard, smiling at my dad like everything’s fine when it hasn’t been for a long time.
“Finished?” Mom’s voice calls from the back deck.
I turn to see her watching us, leaning on the railing.
“Yeah,” I say, dropping the last log onto the pile.
“Alright, dinner’s ready. Come on in,” she says, motioning us inside. Then, before I can even open my mouth, she points a finger at me. “And you’re not driving back to Fredericton without eating first. I haven’t even had a chance to talk to you.”
Then she disappears inside.
Dad chuckles and heads towards the house, motioning for me to follow him.
I do, even though I was going to say I need to head back and prep for work tomorrow.
But Mom knew I would say that.
And she probably knows it’s a lie.
What she doesn’t know is that I’ll be working from home tomorrow, spending more time with a bottle of rum than with the simulation code on my screen.
As I step inside, the smell of Mom’s cooking hits me, and I automatically pull a deep breath in. Mom emerges from the kitchen, setting a roast chicken on the table next to bowls of potatoes and grilled veggies as I take a seat.
And I hate that I’m wondering how fast I can eat and get out of here.
“So, Cade,” Mom says as she settles across from me with a hopeful smile. “How’s work?”
I try not to roll my eyes. I love her, and I know she means well, but why does that always have to be everyone’s first question?
Then again, like Darren said… what else are they supposed to ask me about?
So I just nod. “Good.”
But she continues to stare at me.
I let out a sigh and give her a half-shrug. “It’s alright. Research is going well, but the rest of it is bullshit.”
She snorts, scooping mashed potatoes onto my plate. “Sounds like you need a sabbatical.”
“I fucking wish,” I mutter.
From the seat next to her, Dad silently watches me.
I quickly avert my gaze and look down at my plate, not in the mood to deal with any scrutiny right now.
He seems to be noticing more lately, and I’m pissed at myself for not hiding it better.
The distance, the tiredness, the edge in my voice that wasn’t always there…
Just as he opens his mouth to speak, the phone rings.
Thank fuck.
Mom gets up from the table to answer it. “Hello?” She smiles, then returns to her seat, putting it on speaker and setting it in the centre of the table. “Hi, Darren. Cade’s here.”
“Yeah, he mentioned,” Darren says. “That’s why I’m calling. To keep that little fucker in line.”
“Darren.” Mom shoots the phone a warning look, as if she thinks he can feel it through the speaker.
Dad and Darren chuckle, and I just take a bite of chicken.
“Finish the yard work?” Darren asks.
“Yup,” Dad says. “Got all the fallen trees cut and split for firewood this winter.”
“Awesome,” Darren replies. “Also awesome that it’s done, so I don’t have to do any work when we visit.”
Dad huffs. “Oh, I can still put you to work.”
I keep my head down and eat while they talk about all the projects Dad’s got lined up. He’s been retired for less than a year, and somehow he’s busier now than when he was working.
“What’s that?” Mom asks suddenly.
I glance up at her, and she tilts her head curiously, frowning at my neck.
“What?” I ask.
She gestures to the side of my neck. “You have a bruise on your neck.”
I set my fork down and lift my hand to cover it.
Fucking Alder.
“Ohhh,” Darren drawls through the phone. “Is it a hickey?”
Both of my parents immediately turn to me, and Mom’s eyes go wide with poorly disguised excitement. “Is it?” she asks, way too hopeful.
I look between them, then pick up my fork again and continue eating.
“So, it is,” Darren says, sounding smug. “Tell us about him.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, shovelling food into my mouth faster now so I can leave sooner.
“You met someone?” Mom presses gently.
When I lift my eyes to meet hers, they’re filled with quiet hope and excitement.
Mom and Dad are both looking at me like I’m a tragic, lonely wreck, and this is a miracle moment that proves I’m not completely broken.
If only they knew who this someone was, and what it really is.
Which is just fucking, whenever and wherever he shows up.
“It’s nothing,” I say flatly, taking the last bite of my dinner.