Page 9 of The Forbidden Summer (Pathfinders Lake #2)

Van

Everything feels different now.

Every glance, every time he clears his throat or smiles, I’m left wondering if he's hiding something, now that I know what’s underneath, what’s been there all along.

I never saw it coming, not in a million years, that Père felt the same.

That he’s attracted to me.

That he’s falling in love with me.

And I’m so far gone for him, it’s like I’m blind to everything else.

Maybe that’s the only rational explanation for my suggestion, something so irrational , it feels like I’ve lost my mind.

“Let me show you what this could be.”

We should be reading, curled up together on the couch, or nestled in the hammock under a sky full of stars. The kind of lazy, peaceful evening I’d imagined for us, where time slows down and the world outside doesn’t matter. But instead, Père’s avoiding me.

He’s tinkering in the kitchen, moving around the bedroom, even wandering into the bathroom like he’s got somewhere to be or something to fix. Every step he takes, every sound he makes, just feels like another reminder that something’s off.

His silence is deafening, and I wonder if I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.

It’s like we’re in different worlds now, even though we’re sharing the same space. I want to pull him close, make him look at me the way he used to, but every time I try, he slips further away.

“Père,” I venture as he slips quietly past me in the narrow hall.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even look at me. He just keeps moving, like he didn’t hear me at all, and shuts the bedroom door with a soft but final thud. Shutting me out.

I stand there for a moment as the quiet presses in around me.

The kind of quiet that fills a room with all the things that aren’t being said, all the questions I’m too afraid to ask.

I want to call after him, to force the conversation I know we need to have, but something holds me back.

Maybe it’s fear. Fear that if I push too hard, he’ll slip even further away.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Tomorrow, maybe we’ll talk. Maybe the walls between us will come down, or maybe we’ll find a way back to each other. It’s hard to let go of that hope, even when everything else feels so uncertain.

I lay down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The cushions sink under me, and I can't help but wish I were in his bed, curled up next to Père, feeling his warmth against me. Instead, I’m here, alone, with nothing but my thoughts.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the feeling in my chest. It’s like the space around me is too big, too empty. I should be with him, shouldn’t I? But instead, the distance between us feels like an insurmountable wall, and I can’t figure out how to bridge it.

The memory comes to me, comforting me in Père’s absence.

Back in his old sunny yellow kitchen, I can almost feel it.

Père, standing at the counter near the stove, wearing his worn apron that had seen better days, and a twinkle in his eyes as he taught me how to make his famous biscuits.

I used to think they were magic, the way he could make something so simple taste so perfect.

His hands, rough from years of hard work, guiding mine through each step.

The way he’d laugh when I messed up, like it didn’t matter at all.

We didn’t need words. The sound of his laughter was enough to fill the space. Back then, it was so simple, just me and Père, the world outside us disappearing.

I can still remember the way the sunlight would pour in through the window, casting long shadows across the room, making everything feel warm. Like nothing could touch us in that moment.

He was the kind of man who didn’t need to say much, but when he did, it was like everything mattered. His wisdom was quiet but powerful. I trusted him with everything. Hell, he raised me. He was the one constant in my life, the one person who always knew how to make everything better.

I wish I could feel that closeness again. There’s a distance now, a gap between us that I don’t know how to fix. The thought of it twists something deep inside me, like I’m losing something I don’t know how to hold onto anymore.

I sigh, letting the memory of him settle over me like a blanket.

I’d give anything to go back to those days, to have him guide me through the tough moments like he used to.

But for now, all I have are these memories.

And though they bring me warmth, they also make the emptiness feel even more suffocating.