Chapter 2
TWO
AUGUST
I’m forcing a smile on my face while Dad and I sit outside. It’s become so strained that I may look like the Joker. The flames rising from the bonfire float up into the sky, keeping Dad and me warm. It’s been dreary and cold this winter; everyone in Dove Point is ready for it to be summer again.
The lawn in my parents’ backyard tries to spring back to life, reaching for any sunlight it can get. I stare at the tree house Dad built for Ellie and me. After all these years, it looks like no one has touched it.
I wonder if I can fit in there.
It was a place I could escape to on bad days, a comic book in my hand, ready to sink into a realm filled with heroes. Dad had always been my hero. It was like nothing could stop him, not even a cold. But that all changed after New Year’s when Dad had a cough that wouldn’t go away.
He experienced no pain, so he ignored it. Then a fever followed, leaving him exhausted. Mom sensed something was wrong. Dad isn’t stubborn per se, but he isn’t one to freak out. She pulled him by the ear to urgent care. The doctor suggested testing after they performed a normal exam.
Dad didn’t think it was necessary, but Mom gave him one look in the eye, and he gave in.
He tested negative for the flu, pneumonia, and strep. Then they said the word ‘biopsy’ when they found lumps under his arm and on his neck. The family waited a long, agonizing seven days before we received the results.
I can still hear the doctor breaking the news. “You have stage three non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”
After hearing that, I shut down, and whatever she said next was a blur.
Now, a month later, we’re sitting in front of the fire and talking about how I’ll slowly transition into taking on more responsibilities at the shop while Dad goes through therapy.
“We could review the vendor list, it’ll be fine,” Dad says. He’s wearing his favorite forest-green hoodie and a baseball cap. A blanket covers his lower half while his sneakers peek out from under it.
Breathing out a sigh, I say, “I just want to make you proud. You’re going to need to focus on therapy and your mental health.”
“I’m going to work until I’m too tired to walk.”
“Yeah.” I chuckle. “Try telling Mom that. She’s going to baby you so much. I guarantee you if I even try to slip you some work, she’s going to lecture me.”
“Nah, your mom would never lecture you.” He looks at me and huffs out a laugh, always being sarcastic.
“I know you’re more intimidated by the numbers.
It’ll be fine. I found my ledger. That’s what works for me, but you need to find what works for you.
Don’t stick to how I do things. That wouldn’t be fair. ”
As a kid, I would go through the brown leather book he’d keep all the numbers in for The Surf Shack. This worn book resembled an item from an Indiana Jones film, concealing secrets like hidden treasure.
Dad continues. “If you’d like to try it out, I have nothing against it. Just make sure it’s done the way you’d like to do it. Don’t worry about me. You need to accommodate yourself.”
Since I was small, I’ve viewed things differently from others.
Classmates could communicate and understand topics quickly, but not for me.
Nope. I’d sit with my face slumped in my hands, confused at what I was reading or solving.
Numbers have always overwhelmed me. Beyond that, staying focused on a task was tough.
These challenges linger within me even now.
High school was the biggest obstacle. Everyone around me understood things much faster than I could comprehend. Sometimes, I felt embarrassed to ask. What teenager wants to look like a dumb kid?
All those fears held me back from asking questions. So, I’d keep my mouth shut and hope for the best. When I turned sixteen, everything clicked into place. My teachers met with my parents and suggested I get tested for ADHD. The following week, I found answers to all my questions.
Mom once told me, “Your brain processes things differently. But you are still brilliant and capable of achieving everything you desire. So don’t give up.”
Unfortunately, that speech didn’t work.
I fill my lungs with the crisp air. My glasses slide down my nose, and I push them back up, fidgeting. “Dad, you’re acting like I’m taking over the shop. You’ll finish therapy, heal, and come back to work.”
He’s remained optimistic throughout this journey, always putting his right foot forward. I’m not sure where he gets the optimism from, but I wish it could rub off on me.
“Fine. If you and the ledger get along, then go for it.” His tone is light. “I understand there’s more to do. This whole cancer situation wasn’t in the cards.”
I’ve always handled the smaller things: inventory count, scheduling shifts, delegating tasks, and marketing. Then there are times Dad wants me to sit in meetings with him and the vendors. Confidence doesn’t come often with me.
Oh, and I hate math. I hate it with a fiery passion. If I’m put on the spot, my mind goes into overdrive as I’m being stared at. Attempting to keep up with everyone is frustrating and exhausting, but that changed when Riley and I became close.
My sister's best friend found me in my room struggling with math homework one night when she slept over.
Riley loves math and is incredible with numbers.
Her offer to tutor me turned into a full-blown friendship.
Her methods helped me calm down and concentrate. Sticky notes, notebooks, highlighters.
I lowered my guard, becoming comfortable with her, and that comfort turned into trust. Along with that, my self-esteem grew throughout the years.
“Support will always be available. Promise me you will ask for help when you need it, okay? Even if it’s your mom.”
I nod.
“Say it out loud,” Dad says.
I roll my eyes like I’m a teenager again. “I promise to ask for help when I need it.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you. Everything will be okay, and I believe in you.”
“Yeah.” I let out a heavy breath. “Everything will be okay.”
The popular restaurant, Zesty Ziti, is filled with friends and family for Ellie and Rowan’s engagement party. I can see why they wanted to have it here.
According to Rowan, my future brother-in-law, they requested a small portion of the restaurant. But since Rowan works with the owner and they’ve become close friends, the guy decided to close the entire place for the party as an engagement present.
I’m in the wrong business.
There’s a long, glossy wooden table with a white tablecloth, covered in serving dishes of food: specialty pizzas, pastas, and salads. There are even steaks on the damn table, and they bet their sweet ass I’m taking a filet.
The wine flows as everyone mingles.
You’d think with the number of guests they have here, that it’s the actual wedding. Ellie and Rowan are known for their hospitality. So much so that they always feel the need to include everyone, even if they haven’t spoken to that person in months.
I glance over at my parents talking to Riley’s dad. Then I notice Riley’s mom on the opposite side of the room. That’s not surprising. Not seeing them together, that is. I can’t remember the last time they were standing next to each other.
A large, round table is occupied with Rowan’s dad and stepmom, along with Rowan’s mom and his aunt. The new year is starting strong for Rowan. First, he becomes engaged to the woman he’s loved for as long as I can remember, and now his dad is back in his life.
“TGIF, am I right, guys?” Beau says to me. “What a week.”
I peer at Beau’s giant frame, standing at six-foot-five. He only has three inches on me, but his build creates the illusion that he’s much taller. I’m sure I look like a stick next to Beau. I’m more of a runner, and he loves lifting weights.
“Aw, did you have a rough week cutting hair?” James, Beau’s brother, tilts his head, his bottom lip pushed out in exaggeration.
“I did. Thank you for asking,” Beau responds, taking another drink from his beer.
If a stranger came across Beau and James, they wouldn’t think in a million years that they’re brothers. Maybe cousins. The only similarity they have is the dark hair and grey eyes, with James being a year older.
All of us have been best friends since the day we could babble to each other. At this point, I consider them my own brothers.
Beau turns to Rowan, leaning his forearm on his brother’s shoulder. “How’s the engagement life treatin’ ya, bud?”
Rowan suppresses a smile but loses. This guy is so deeply in love with my sister, I’d think they’d have their own Hallmark movie. I can’t lie and say I’m not jealous. I may love attention from the ladies, but I’m a romantic at heart.
Rowan clears his throat. “It’s great. The only complaint I have is that I’ve gotta go to the gym more than I usually do since I’m eating desserts almost every day.” He places a hand on his stomach, then looks at me. “How are things at the shop? I hear it’s been a busy week.”
I run my hand through my hair, pushing it back until I hit the nape of my neck. “We’ve been slammed. The budget my dad predicted is matching up. I’ve stepped into the vendor role for him.”
James takes a swig of amber liquid. “When does he start his treatments?”
I mirror him, the whiskey burning my throat as it goes down. “Two weeks from today. They’re starting with chemotherapy and then going from there.”
Rowan clasps his hand on my shoulder. “Let us know if you need anything. Seriously.”
I raise my glass. “Will do.”
While the guys continue to talk, my attention is pulled toward a laugh that’s all too familiar, a laugh that I dream about on days when I need it most. It doesn’t take long for me to find Riley across the room.
The room is lively, yet she always stands out.
Her laughter is boisterous yet soft. Infectious and joyful.