Page 97 of Hoax and Kisses
ZOEY
With each passing kilometer, my bones pull inward, unwilling to leave Pine Falls behind.
I dread the moment we cross into Vancouver. Even more so, I dread seeing my dad and my colleagues. Getting sucked into the madness of a job I’m not convinced I want anymore.
But at least I’m not going alone. I’ve reminded myself the whole ride that this is for Matt, first and foremost.
This weekend, I’m fulfilling my side of the deal.
I’ve already scheduled a meeting with Corey and Nicole—the two people helping me run the Leading the Future—for this afternoon to discuss getting Daphne’s Wildflowers into the mentorship program.
“What are you gonna do with the money if we bring you in?” I ask as we near the city.
Matt glances at Daphne in the mirror, his lips tipping up as he takes in her sleeping form. “Depends on the amount of the check you’ll write to me.”
He tilts his head toward me and smirks. Then, with one more peek into the mirror, he splays his hand on the curve of my leg. Its warmth radiates through the fabric of my jeans. It feels possessive, the way his big fingers graze my inner thigh, his thumb sweeping at a gentle pace while his attention remains focused on the road, a content smile gracing his lips.
His touch steals my train of thought. My sense of direction. Is this what life with him would be like? Being constantly aware of his need to lay his hands on me every time we’re together? Of his craving to keep me close? Would he ever get tired of it?
I shake the thoughts away. “I’m very picky. You’re gonna have to impress me.”
He throws a devastating grin my way, dimples on full display. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”
“Your efforts have been noted,” I say.
“I had to give up an investment opportunity to take care of my sister while my parents are on their anniversary trip,” he finally answers, his face flattening out. “I’ve been working on plans to grow the business for a while now. Not only because I have ambition, but because it won’t be sustainable like this for long.” He sighs. “The other reason—and the main one—is that if I don’t get a serious influx of money soon, I won’t be able to pay for Daphne’s school.”
I gape at his profile. “You’repaying for her school?”
“I am.” His fingers flex around the wheel, his jaw clenched. “Mostly, anyway. My dad is helping, but he’s retired. My mom doesn’t believe Daphne needs the accommodations and support. The only way I could convince her to let Daph attend is if I promised I’d cover the costs.”
A burning heat spreads across my chest, and I grit my teeth. “Your mom should pitch in too. I’m sure it’s not easy since your dad is retired, but caring for your sister should be a group effort. You can’t take it all on your shoulders.”
I wish people didn’t have to resort to paying astronomical fees for private school to get the support they need for their neurodivergent children. Where is our public funding? Our public resources?
“She’s… trying. She really is.” He glances in the mirror again and lowers his voice. “She’s part of the generation that doesn’t understand why ‘kids these days’ have all kinds of issues and diagnoses,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“The typical ‘in my time, they were fine, and now, they’re all autistic, and have ADHD. It’s called being a kid!’ huh?”
Matt laughs softly at my poor imitation of a grandma’s voice. “Exactly. She’s attributing Daphne’s behavior to her being an introverted teenager. A difficult kid who’s too focused on the things she loves to care about anything else. She hasn’t put any effort into reading about autism. If she had, she’d understand that it’s not that, all of a sudden, there’s this massive wave of autistic kids. It’s about better awareness and recognition. Autism didn’t appear out of nowhere like some people would have us believe, as if it’s some sort of modern epidemic.” He tsks, his fingers drumming on the wheel in an impatient rhythm. “It’s always been there. We’re only now starting to listen.”
“Daphne has been diagnosed, right? She did the tests?”
“Yeah, five years ago. Because I pushed for it. Even though she didn’t need to do them. I always had an inkling, but I needed concrete proof if I wanted our mom to believe me.” He continues to sweep his thumb softly over my thigh, tethering me to him. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe he needs the connection more right now.
“But even when we received the results, she was in denial. She loves Daph—I don’t have any doubt about it. But I think she’s scared of what having a special needs child means for her and for her daughter. Of the stigma Daphne will face all her life and the difficulties she’ll encounter. The inevitable discrimination.” He shakes his head. “She thinks that if she acts like her autism doesn’t exist, it’ll go away. If she continues to treat Daphne as a ‘normal’ kid, then she won’t have to deal with all of this.”
I put my hand on top of his. The weight of this must be unbearable to carry alone.
“In a weird, twisted way,” he says, his tone full of defeat, “I believe she’s trying to protect her.”
“Have you broached the topic with her?”
He nods. “My dad has tried too. Though it’s been a while. Maybe she’d be more open to discussing it now.”
“You know,” I say as we cross the Iron Workers Memorial Bridge separating North Vancouver from the city, “when I was studying pediatric nursing, I got to spend an entire semester working with neurodivergent kids. From what I noticed, struggling to understand and accept a child’s diagnosis is more common in parents than you might think. And yeah, it can be pretty isolating for kids, but your sister has something many others don’t. A great brother like you, Matt. And she has your dad.” I squeeze his fingers. “You’re going above and beyond for her, and I don’t need a fancy university degree to see that she’s loved and happy because of you.”
He glances at me, his eyes shining. “I wish I could kiss you right now,” he whispers.
