AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The snooze alert booms off the walls and I slap the clock again. As exhausted as I am, sleep evades me. No matter how many times I close my eyes, my mind refuses to shut down and let me sleep. But the energy to leave the bed won’t come either.
Spartan noses my elbow and groans. “I’m getting up. Just give me a minute.”
I roll over to turn off the clock, inhale Autumn’s scent on the other pillowcase, and close my eyes. Fisting the pillow to my nose, I drag in the smell of her. Allow it to lessen the sharp sting between my lungs, if only for a minute.
When I drop the pillow and sit up, the pain throbs anew. This is going to be a long fucking day. I feel it in my bones.
Out of bed, I go about my typical morning routine. Taking Spartan for a walk—thank god he knows our route because I am mentally dead on my feet. Shower faster than usual. Dress for work robotically. As I take out items to make breakfast, I spot Clementine’s juice in the fridge.
The knot in my stomach twists tighter. Has me nauseous. I cook half my normal breakfast and barely eat any of it. Before leaving the house, I brew a pot of coffee and fill my work thermos to the brim.
Today is going to snail by.
With Spartan secure in his crate, I turn on the radio for him and head out. I opt to ride the bike today and, since it is still pretty early, drive aimlessly for almost an hour.
The cold air stings my skin as I ride around the city. I welcome the frigid burn. The bite of cold air better than the uncertainty clouding my every thought.
I drive aimlessly. Focus on the road. The vibration of the engine between my legs. The heat from the pipes near my calves. When I need to change gears and steer the bike, I focus on what I can control.
After an hour of aimless riding, I park behind the shop and amble into the office. Dad sits behind his desk, his stack of invoices thin as he peeks up when I enter.
I don’t miss how he checks the clock above the door. How he scans my face after noticing I am only thirty minutes early rather than my typical hour-plus early. And I definitely don’t miss the brief droop at the corners of his eyes and lowered edges of his lips when he scans my face and notes my sullen demeanor.
I never need to tell Dad something is wrong. He just knows. Until Autumn and I got close, I thought no one would be able to read me better than Dad. His parental superpower is sensing when his children aren’t one hundred percent.
And right now, he more than senses something is off.
Giving a wave, I hold up the thermos. “‘Morning. Coffee?”
He tilts his head slightly and gauges my stilted greeting. But he doesn’t mention it. Doesn’t shine a light on it and probe for further explanation.
“Please. Thanks, son.”
I nod then turn my back to him, grabbing mugs, creamer, and sugar before parking it all on the desk. Filling the mugs with coffee from my thermos, I hand him his mug without meeting his eyes. Once he adds cream and sugar, I follow suit. It all feels routine… and robotic.
The slowest first ten minutes of my workday tick by. We drink our coffee in silence as Dad wraps up the last of his paperwork and I stare at a framed picture Mom suggested we add to the office. A mountainous landscape at sunset.“You need more than bare walls and automotive posters in this place.”At least I have something to lose focus on while I sit here. A place to mentally get lost in.
“Want to talk about it?” Dad prompts after he stacks the day’s invoices in a wire basket.
Dropping my gaze from the picture, I face him and shake my head. “Not yet.”
Dad nods as his chair legs scrape the tile and he stands. Starting for the door, he pauses beside me and lays a hand on my shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.” Before I respond, he pats my shoulder, strolls out the door and into the garage.
I finish my coffee, wash the mug, and set it in the rack. Grabbing a fresh pair of coveralls, I slip them over my clothes, pick up the thermos, then mosey out to the garage. I survey the roster and see the majority of the schedule is full. A busy day is good. A busy day is exactly the distraction I need.
Three oil changes and a full set of new tires later, I would swear it should be closing time. No such luck. Still another thirty minutes until lunch. Then the back half of the day.
Dad has not so nonchalantly checked on me five times. At minimum. I understand his concern, but his constant overshadowing doesn’t make matters better. If anything, it constantly reminds me why my mood is sour.
After I replace a starter, Dad orders me to take lunch. My stomach growls for me to feed it, but my head shoots down the idea. Instead, I lie on the couch in the office and close my eyes. Although I won’t sleep, my exhausted body will rejoice at being horizontal.
I jolt awake when Dad nudges my shoulder. “Jonas, you should wake up.”
Rubbing my palms over my eyes, I stare up at him. “How long have I been in here?”
Dad glances at the clock on the wall. “Little more than an hour.”
Shit. I may have needed sleep, but now I will be the chump not returning on time. The one screwing up everyone else’s lunch break. The day just keeps getting better.
