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I could sense the disappointment in him. With a sigh, I braced myself for the unwanted confrontation.

“Gracie likes it.”

Dad stepped further into the room, like an army general expecting it for dust.

“Your sister likes anything you do.” He said. “I wish she’d pick a better role model.”

“As long as it isn’t you, I think she’ll turn out just fine.”

He glared at me in frustration. I hit a nerve.

“Have you thought of a college yet?”

“I told you I’m not going.” I retorted, the defiance creeping into my voice.

“Stop being stubborn. You’re only hurting yourself.” He lectured, his tone growing sterner with each word.

“Did you not, for one second, think you might be the reason?”

The tension in the room crackled as we glared at each other. It seemed neither of us would back down. The unspoken resentment I had toward him was bubbling to the surface.

“You’re blaming me?”

“Of course I am,” I said, scrunching my nose in disgust. “I can’t forget what happened.”

“You said you’d never mention it.”

“No, I said I’d never tell.”

He raised his finger, ready for another verbal attack, but Mom’s voice disturbed us.

“Tell what?”

Neither of us spoke. I looked away from my mother’s imploring gaze and to the window.

“Asher, what is going on?” My mom asked.

Her concerned voice broke through my reverie. I forced a smile, my heart heavy with a truth I couldn’t bring myself to share.

“It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure, sweetie?” She asked. “You seem flustered.”

The words were trapped inside my throat. There was no way I could open my mouth without causing destruction. With that thought in mind, I exited my room. My footsteps echoed as I stomped down the stairs two at a time. I couldn’t confront the truth, so I fled.

The cool, outside air offered little solace, as it felt like the force of it all weighed down on my chest. It was suffocating and relentless. I slipped into my truck, tightening my hands around the steering wheel as the engine roared to life beneath me. My foot pressed against the pedal. The car lurched forward as I pulled out onto the peaceful street.

The miles unfolded before me, revealing a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes in the world outside. I could finally breathe, as each moment was a fleeting reprieve from my troubled thoughts. I glanced at my destination on the GPS. Five hours away. It was a lengthy drive, but worthwhile.

I pressed down on the accelerator, following the ribbon of asphalt ahead. As the hours slipped by, fatigue weighed down on me, but I pushed through, fuelled by the prospect of my destination.

After what felt like an eternity, I pulled into the parking lot of the bookstore. I dashed inside, my footsteps echoed against the polished floors as I made my way to the counter. A woman in her mid to late twenties welcomed me with a warm smile.

“May I help you?”

“I called for the Shakespeare sonnets book.”

Her eyes widened in realization.