Pop doesn’t snore, but I swear he must make some kind of noise when he sleeps because he wakes me up constantly. Unable to catch him doing anything, I begin to wonder if it’s my imagination. Somehow, I know it’s not. I plan to ask Mom when I get home if Pop talks in his sleep.

Waking up exhausted on Sunday, I’m ready to go home until I remember leaving White Horse means leaving Cap. Now in a funk, I linger in bed and imagine all the steps to moving my limited belongings to a new town.

In the bathroom, Pop swishes mouthwash, spits the liquid out in the sink, likely splashing it everywhere, and finally announces he’s ready for breakfast. I don’t move immediately, almost asking if he’ll bring me food like I did for him yesterday. Based on his grumpy morning expression, the answer would be no.

We walk downstairs and eat quietly in the kitchen area with the other guests. Everyone looks miserable on this chilly autumn morning. Except for a flirty elderly couple, I doubt anyone brushed their hair before heading downstairs.

I’m still full from the huge dinner I ate at The Glenn last night. Steak and potatoes always fill me up. Across the small circular table, Pop looks ready to crash as he chugs one cup of coffee after another.

“Are you sick?” I ask when he hides his face in his hands.

“I stayed up too late, working out scenarios to sneak up on Hayes and punch his smug face.”

“Did you ever figure out a plan?”

“No,” Pop says, sighing. “The man must have eyes in the back of his fat fucking head because I’ve spent two decades trying to get the jump on him. He always knows I’m coming.”

“Maybe it’s a height thing.”

“Maybe.”

I wait for Pop to say something about my move to White Horse, but he remained silent about the issue the night before, and he says nothing until we take food upstairs where he crashes on the bed.

“I could sleep for a fucking day. I think I’ll nap before we head home.”

Standing between the beds, I struggle to keep my voice relaxed. “But we’re meeting Cap to see the house before our drive back to Ellsberg.”

“That ain’t happening,” he says with his arm across his face.

“I need a place to live down here.”

“No, you don’t. You’re moving too fast.”

“I’m moving here, Pop. You should start accepting that fact because I’m meeting Cap at the house in an hour.”

Pop peeks at me from behind his arm. “You’ll give up your whole life for some asshole? You haven’t even had sex with him yet.”

“And you know that how?”

“I can tell.”

“Riigghhtt,” I say and nearly throw a pillow at him.

“It’s obvious to anyone who isn’t stupid.”

“Was it obvious with Mom?”

Pop clearly flashes back to his first time with Mom. Lily once asked our mother if he was her first lover. I remember wanting to vomit at the word “lover” because I was twelve, and the entire conversation was disgusting to me. Mom carefully worded her answer when replying, “He’s the first that counted.”

I assumed that mean she slutted around with nobodies until meeting Pop. Rando later told me that Mom had been R. A. P. E. D. My sister even spelled out the word. I hadn’t believed Rando since she was in the middle of an extensive lying phase. Later, Lily confirmed Mom was no slut.

So I’m assuming Pop is remembering that ugly stuff when he thinks of their first time together.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mutters.

“I’m old enough to hear the details. Were you a tender lover?”

Pop looks me directly in the eyes, and I see the death glare of a man capable of murder. For some reason, his threatening gaze makes me giggle.

“Don’t speak to me,” he growls in response to my lover comment.

Grinning, I ask, “For how long?”

“Never again. Don’t speak to me ever again.”

Laughing, I toss my pillow at his head. “Sex is a natural thing, Papa. When I have it for the first time, I’ll send you a postcard with the play-by-play. It’s how I was raised.”

“Never speak again,” he says, standing up quickly and hurrying to the door. “From now on, you only talk to your mother. She’ll relay your words to me.”

Laughing hysterically at his escape, I fall on the bed and think to call Mom to share how her husband is a punk ass. I know she’ll take his side though. She can’t help it. They’re soooo in love, and he possesses a look that makes her panties instantly wet. This last detail is courtesy of Aunt Tawny who gets chatty when drunk off her ass. I remember she told me that gossipy nugget while Pop and Uncle Judd were having a grill out at midnight in the middle of winter.

Realizing what I’ll leave behind when I move to White Horse, I struggle to hold onto the confidence Cap provides. How can I go weeks without seeing my parents when I’m used to spending time with them every day? Am I really brave enough to leave everything I’ve ever known?”

Calling Cap, I need reassurance from the only person who’s ever looked into my eyes and understood how I tick.

“What’s up, Pip?” he answers in a voice so deep I feel it from my scalp to my toes.

I can’t find the words to express my unease, so I ask a dumb question, “What’s your fave color?”

“Gray. Yours?”

“Black.”

“Like my hair?”

Despite rolling my eyes at his arrogance, I can’t stop smiling. Cap’s cocky attitude just makes me obscenely happy. “Yes, like your hair. So what is your fave season?”

“Winter. My family enjoys skiing, and the kids go insane in the snow.”

“I hate the winter.”

“What do you love?”

“Summer. I prefer wearing shorts and tank tops.”

“The world prefers when you wear them.”

Smirking at his compliment, I ask, “Do you think we’re too different?”

“No. It’ll be my job to help you love winter, and yours to help me love summer. That’s how shit works. I should warn you. I sweat magnificently. You’ll want to prepare yourself for that splendid sight.”

“A man shouldn’t use the word splendid.”

“A man my size can use any fucking words he likes. Have you seen the size of my fists? Who’s gonna tell a man like me what he can and can’t fucking say?”

“A girl who knows you won’t punch her.”

“Touché, Pipsqueak,” he says, chuckling deeply.

“I don’t think Pop will come to see the house.”

“If you come, he will follow.”

“When should I meet you?”

“Are you packed and ready to go?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“And you have to check out soon, right?”

“Yes,” I say, thinking I hear Pop at the door.

“Then leave now. I’ll send you the address and meet you there. After you see it, you and your dad can drive home where you’ll share the good news with your mom. All will be well with the world.”

Watching Pop enter the room, I ask Cap, “Just like that?”

“Life is only as fucking complicated as you make it.”

Cap doesn’t wait for me to agree. He sends me the address and says he’ll leave in ten minutes. Hanging up, I study my pop who’s watching me. I know he’ll say no, but he won’t physically stop me from going to the house. Like Cap said, Pop will follow me. He won’t be able to fight the urge to supervise me and complain about the house. Usually, I’d let Pop run the show. Not today. For Cap, I’m making a move, and Pop will need to learn to play the follower.