Page 14 of Time After Time (Golden Sands #1)

Geneviève

U h oh.

My mum’s face was the first thing I saw when I walked in, exhausted, aching, and dreaming of the longest shower of my life. Her brows pinched together, and she exhaled softly through her nose, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

“How was your first day at the farm?” she asked, her voice a little too bright. Her lips pressed together, and her eyes flickered over my dirt-streaked clothes before widening slightly, like she was bracing for my answer.

I glanced around the room, confusion spreading across my face, until my gaze landed on Sylvie.

She was sprawled on the couch, Mr. Whiskers curled in her lap.

Her brows were pulled into a sharp V, her eyes narrowing as her lips pressed tightly together, as if she were holding something back—regret, maybe, or the words she didn’t want to say.

“Today was... kinda tiring,” I said, leaving out the real story. I thought about mentioning Cooper, the pig who followed me around all day, how both funny and a little strange it had been. But I didn’t want to share it. It felt like something for Sebastian and me to laugh about, just the two of us.

Before I could finish my sentence, the rich scent of espresso and mint drifted through the air, pulling my attention to the left.

My dad sat on a kitchen stool, his smile unusually bright, aimed at me.

I gripped the rough edges of my overalls, feeling the texture under my fingers as I tried to keep my composure.

I recognised that smile—the one that always came before something I wasn’t ready for.

Our eyes met, and he gave a small nod toward the seat beside him. I flicked a glance at my mum and sister. My mum’s lips pressed together, her brows drawn low, while Sylvie’s eyes softened, her shoulders tensing like she was already preparing for something uncomfortable.

As I approached the kitchen island and took my seat, my eyes were drawn to the pile of brochures and papers scattered across the table. The word “university” seemed to jump off every page, and I couldn’t help but feel the familiar knot in my stomach.

“So, take a look.” My dad urged, his hands, rough from years of hard work, moving over the table as he shuffled through a stack of pamphlets. “These are some of the best universities I’ve found, known for their design and project management programs.”

I glanced from the brochures to my father, who was practically glowing with excitement. His eyes sparkled, his voice speeding up like he couldn’t wait to share more. “Most of them are in the United States and Europe, but they’re all pretty awesome. I’ve been checking their admission requirements.”

“You’ve been checking?” I asked, my gaze flicking from the brochures to my dad. The question came out quieter than I meant, the words a little more uncertain than I’d expected.

He gave a quick nod. “These programs are well-known, and a lot of students say they’re prepared for big jobs right out of college.”

A shaky sigh slipped out before I could stop it.

Sylvie had slipped into the kitchen, pretending to grab some orange juice. But I knew better—she was there to catch my eye. When I finally looked up, she met my gaze, her lips mouthing the words tell him.

I had planned to speak up, to tell him I didn’t want to follow this path, that I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to do with my life.

But the fear of disappointing him kept me frozen, the words trapped somewhere deep in my chest.

“Dad,” I started, but the moment I spoke, his face lit up, like he was holding back a grin.

He looked like a kid who’d just been handed the last slice of their favourite cake.

I inhaled slowly, closed my eyes for a beat, and then opened them, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. “I’ll go over the brochures.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sylvie shake her head with a mellow sigh. At the same time, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. My mum didn’t say anything, but she knew. She knew this wasn’t what I truly wanted.

Despite everything, my dad was practically glowing. He laughed, clapped his hands, and pulled me into a tight hug, all but bursting with pride that one of his daughters was heading down the path he’d hoped for. In a different context, his enthusiasm might have felt comforting.

“You’re going to excel.” His hands gripped my shoulders as he pulled back to meet my gaze.

I tried to force a smile, but it felt more like a mask, barely covering the knot in my stomach, the way my neck prickled with tension, and the quiet voice in the back of my mind whispering that I might have just made a mistake.

My dad launched into a passionate monologue, listing the qualities of each university, what they offered, and where they were located, his words spilling out faster than I could process them.

Without drawing attention, I slipped my phone from the pocket of my overalls, my fingers moving automatically as I scrolled to Sebastian’s name.

Me

Dad's been researching universities. He surprised me with a bunch of brochures when I got home. He even checked their application requirements.

SEBBIE

Shit. I'm sorry, Gen. Did you tell him?

Me

I couldn't. He was so thrilled, and he won't stop talking about it.

SEBBIE

:(

A raspy cough snapped me out of my distraction, pulling my attention away from the phone I’d been trying to sneak a glance at under the table.

Flustered that I’d been caught drifting away from my dad’s joy, I quickly directed my gaze to him.

Thankfully, he was still absorbed in the brochures scattered across the table.

After a beat, I let his words blur into the background, my focus shifting as I studied his face instead.

Despite the faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled and the subtle lines on his forehead—one deeper than the other when he scowled—time had been kind to him.

In his early forties, Dad still kept up a healthy routine, often waking up early to run with Sebastian when work wasn’t too demanding, or whenever he found a free moment after making sure we were all set for the day.

Dad’s skin had a golden, sun-kissed glow from long hours spent working in his fruit business, which was famous for having the best produce in town.

When word spread, several companies approached him with offers to help distribute his fruit more widely.

He accepted, knowing it would bring in more income and expand the business.

But it also meant he was home less. Sylvie and I did what we could to pick up the slack, but with her job at the mechanic shop demanding so much of her time, she could hardly help.

I wasn’t always thrilled to help, but I did—especially during the busy season, when the fruit was at its peak.

Dad’s eyes, the colour of rich honey, gleamed with a kind of excitement, as if this had always been his dream. Maybe it had. He often said that for us to truly thrive, we’d eventually have to leave this town. But what was it about that idea that captivated him so much? I wasn’t sure, not entirely.

Sylvie’s gaze locked onto mine just as another cough echoed through the room.

Her brows shot up, and she stepped back slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Her eyes traced the tightness around my jaw and the hard set of my shoulders.

The storm brewing behind my eyes was obvious to her—I couldn’t do this today.

But who was I kidding? These talks always landed like a heavy blow to my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs.

“Dad,” she said, drawing his attention as he paused. I didn’t look at him; my focus stayed on my sister. “Could we maybe save this conversation for another time?”

I swallowed hard, bracing myself for his likely insistence that there was no time to waste. But then I remembered Sebastian’s reassurance that there was time—and I believed him. “We still have time.”

I wasn’t sure if Sylvie said it for my sake or Dad’s.

Sebastian’s version was all about me finding my passion, while Sylvie’s felt more like, “There’s still time before Gen decides which program to choose.” It was hard to tell if she was sending Dad a signal or just nudging me to let him know I wasn’t interested in the path he had in mind for me.

“And she smells like horse shit.”

When I finally summoned the strength to look at my dad, his face had gone serious, his eyes searching mine for something. I forced a tight grin in response.

“So, that’s what I’ve been smelling.” A pair of warm hands squeezed my shoulders affectionately and reassuringly. “Let her get in the shower, Michael.”

My dad nodded and, after a brief look at my mum, managed a smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes, the same fake smile I had given him earlier. It made me wonder if he saw through my mask, too.

As soon as I was free, I sprinted upstairs, with Mr. Whiskers close behind me. He wasted no time, curling up in the cosiest spot on my bed, right in the centre. I, on the other hand, lingered in the shower, scrubbing away every trace of that awful farm animal smell.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, the fresh scent of soap still hanging in the air, I saw two lumps on my bed, one bigger than the other.

Sebastian was sprawled across the middle, propped up by a pile of cushions, absorbed in a book. Luckily, it wasn’t Persuasion , the book we were reading together. I was relieved it was something else.

He had already showered and changed into fresh clothes, a white t-shirt and grey shorts. His shoes were discarded carelessly on the floor, and his feet were tucked comfortably into white ankle socks.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice a little breathless. I felt a rush of relief, thankful that I’d got into the habit of dressing in the bathroom.

Sebastian didn’t look up at first, lost in his book. I could hear the soft sound of him chewing, distracted. When I glanced down at his chest, I noticed a bag of gummy bears resting there. I blinked. Those were my gummy bears.