Page 68 of Entirely Yours
I shake my head.
“You risk suffocating it.”
I crush my palms into my eyes, but even with my eyes closed, all I see is her.
In my kitchen.
In my garden.
In my bed.
Dad’s hands come around my wrists. “Loosen your grip, son. Something this precious needs a gentle touch. Patience. Tenderness.”
“I’ve been patient!” I barely contain the scream that is begging to be let out.
“Yes, you have.” He nods. “You’ve always had the patience of a saint. I’m surprised it’s taken you this long for everything tocome to a head, if I’m being honest. There’s a lot going on Julien. Give yourself some grace. Give Thea some grace.”
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I attempt to release some of the tension. Dad’s right. I know he’s right. It’s why I didn’t immediately run after Thea, knowing she’d need some space after whatever transpired during her conversation with my family.
I shake my body, jumping up and down a few times for good measure. “Thanks, Dad. I’m going to… I think I’m going to walk the block to cool down.” He claps me on the shoulder before heading back to the coffee shop, giving me a reassuring smile when he goes.
Later that night, after everyone has left except for me, I finally let myself cry.
Morning has been coming entirely too soon lately. I’m moody because Thea isn’t in my bed. Instead a black fluff ball has made himself comfortable on top of my pillow. I know better than to irritate the cat, so I slide carefully out of bed and make my way to the kitchen.
The one person I do not expect to run into is Hank Rose. A fresh wave of shame washes over me when I remember that he witnessed my little outburst last night.
“Morning, sir,” I say. He responds by tipping his mug toward me. I can appreciate that he is a man of few words.
Leaning back against the counter, I open my mouth to assure him I’m not a hot-headed douche bag. Before I can get one word out, he holds up his hand to stop me.
“Don’t bother with the pretty words, boy.”
Definitely does not feel like a strong start.
“My daughter is lucky to have someone who will stand up for her the way you did last night. Maybe coulda gone ‘bout it in a different way, but whatever gets the job done.”
I stare at him in disbelief for so long, I swear I see his handlebar mustache twitch.
“I... You’re not mad?” I finally ask.
He grimaces. “What would I be mad for?”
“The disrespectful way I spoke to my family, the moment I lost my temper and slammed my hand on the table, the?—”
Hank scoffs. “You showed some emotion. Don’t have to apologize to me for that, seems like you made your amends, as it is.”
He ponders for a bit, staring out the window by the kitchen table. I start sweating in the amount of time it takes him to take a sip of coffee and say whatever it is he’s about to say. Finally, he stands, places his mug in the kitchen sink, looks me dead in the eye, and says, “She’ll come around.”
Then he’s gone.
I’m still standing there at a loss for words when Thea walks in.
“Oh! You’re up early!” Her voice is strangely high-pitched.
I look at the clock and see that it’s a perfectly normal time to be awake.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Listen, Thea—I don’t know what was said at the table after I left but?—”
