Free That One Day (That One #1.5) by Josie Wright Page A

His voice is muffled. I’m not sure how to react when he sits up, his face wet with tears.
    “I’m sorry, Son. I need to be alone. This is too much for me. I…” He stands up, moving toward the door, his mouth pulled into a frown. He looks devastated. “I can’t deal with all of this right now. Give me some time. Come back tomorrow, maybe.”
    With that, he turns around and nods at an orderly who accompanies him out of the room, and I’m left sitting on the couch, wondering what the hell just happened. The nurse from earlier comes back to show me out.
    “Is my father okay?”
    “It’s just a bit much for him. He hasn’t had any visitors since his mother died, and his son visiting him suddenly after so many years, makes it a bit tough to cope. But he’ll be fine. He wants you to come back tomorrow, so that’s a good sign. Do you want to talk to his doctor?”
    I think about this for a moment, but decide I want to talk to my father, want to give him a chance to tell me why he’s here. I don’t want to treat him like a child, going behind his back. “No, thank you.”
    She smiles at me before she opens the door. I make my way to the gates, confused and slightly shaken. This visit didn’t go as planned, though I’m not sure what the plan actually was.
    ***
    I get to the house. My earlier confusion is now mixing with hurt and anger—feelings I’m more than familiar with by now. I should be in college. I should be fucking Frankie’s brains out, or at least fucking someone’s brains out. I should be partying with Dave. I shouldn’t have to worry about who my father is, his mental state, and how I’m going to establish a relationship with him while he’s behind those walls.
    My mind is full of jumbled thoughts after meeting my father. I don’t know how I should feel. I’m confused and hurting because I don’t feel the connection or recognition I was expecting.
    And now there is also a fear present I have never encountered before. My father and I look so much alike. Even in the short time I’ve seen him today, I could tell that our mannerisms are similar. What if we have more in common than that? What if his illness is something I inherited as well?
    I don’t want to think anymore. I wish I could just turn off my brain, to stop memories and questions playing on repeat without a minute’s break.
    All I want to do is get inside and have a hot shower, watch some porn to relieve some of the tension, and then get drunk.
    But no, that’s not in the cards. As soon as I’m out of the truck, Allie comes bouncing down the steps of her front porch where Jake and Mike sit and chat.
    “Hey, neighbor.”
    Right now, her voice is like fingernails on a chalkboard.
    “Not now, Allie,” I grind out.
    “Oh, come on, Ben. Join us on the porch. It’ll cheer you up. That’s what friends are for.”
    In that moment, I lose it. I take all of my frustration out on her. She makes too easy of a target with her sweet and bubbly personality.
    “We’re not fucking friends. I have friends back home. I don’t need or want you to be my friend. And I sure as fuck won’t cheer up. Not everyone can walk through life oblivious to the real world. So why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone and annoy someone else.” I’m yelling, drawing the attention of the neighbors from the other side of the street who are watering their plants. They stop mid-movement and are staring at us.
    I ignore them and Jake, who’s making his way over to us, probably ready to kick my ass. I ignore Allie who stares at me as if I’ve grown a second head, shock and hurt written all over her face, her eyes swimming with tears.
    I stomp off into the house, slamming the door behind me. I walk to the kitchen sink and open the tap, sticking my head under the cold water. With water dripping down my face and shirt, I grab the half-empty whiskey bottle off the kitchen table and make my way to the guestroom, where I sit down on the bed and down the bottle in