He certainly did that.
“I knew, way back then, I should say something. I knew way back then, I should come clean. I should tell you, Dun. Or you, Genny. Make it right, at least between the two of you. But I didn’t have the guts. I told myself I was working up to it, but—”
“You can stop now,” I interrupted. “I don’t really care to hear Corey explain why he betrayed the both of us, and his pregnant wife, in order to have something it was not his to have.”
Duncan tossed the paper to his desk and looked across it, into my eyes.
It was very bad form, and moot at this point, not to mention childish, to tell him I told you so.
Therefore, I refrained.
It wouldn’t matter.
He knew it. I could read it on his face. In fact, it was written on every inch of him.
But that was not my problem.
“Well, there you go,” I stated. “Corey proving indisputably that Corey was what the media alluded to repeatedly. Socially awkward. Single-minded. Driven to extremes. And willing to do absolutely anything, walk over people, tear them down, annihilate them, to get what he wanted.”
It was just, I never believed that.
That wasn’t my Corey.
I was very wrong.
Duncan had no response.
At least not verbally.
But Duncan was not a man of limited emotion and he fought hard not to be like his father. A man who hid the fact he was the same because having emotions was not what a real man had.
And now, Duncan was processing.
He did this by reaching into the box and taking a sheaf of the papers out. He sifted through the I’m sorrys. Then he tossed them on the desk beyond the box.
Out came more papers, which Duncan inspected while I watched.
And again, he tossed them, most of these sliding to the floor at my feet.
There were many things I had loved about this man beyond reason.
One of them was what I was witnessing now.
It might seem weird, but I’d thought it was incredibly mature, especially back then, when we were so very young.
Because Duncan had a temper. It was explosive. He let it loose, and if you were not used to it, it would be terrifying.
But he knew enough about himself to do it. Even in his early twenties. Enough to know those feelings had to be let go and he had to control them to the point he didn’t hurt anyone or himself.
But that was all the control he wielded.
Best of this, it was then done. He flamed bright and searing.
Then he flamed out.
And this was going to happen now.
“Du—” I began.
Too late.
The box was up, and with a powerful heave, it flew across the room, hitting a winged-back chair. The box tipped, the apologies flooding the seat of the chair and the floor, the box wedging itself between the arms.
I did not move through this maneuver, or after.
He then turned burning eyes to me.
“You told me,” he said softly.
“I—”
“You fucking told me!” he roared.
Yes, his temper was terrifying.
Though I knew him, even though the years had been long since I’d witnessed it, so I was not terrified.
I remained silent.
“I didn’t believe you,” he stated. “I didn’t believe you because he told me. He told me the two of you got drunk, and you fucked him. Because you weren’t sure of the future I could give you. But you were sure of him.”
Well, hell.
Apparently, Corey was socially aware enough, or humanly aware enough, to know just how to dig right into those soft, vulnerable spots.
And then shove the blade deeper.
Because even then, Duncan was a mover.
By that time, he was foreman of a crew, but he was “only” a mover.
But Corey had been hired out of college on a six-figure salary, was on a rocket trajectory, and even at the time, I thought it was strange (not to mention, it annoyed the hell out of me), not just more of Corey’s overcompensating and lack of confidence, how much he didn’t let Duncan forget it.
Though, perhaps what Corey didn’t know was that Duncan already wasn’t ever going to forget it.
Or perhaps he knew that all too well.
“And you were. You were so sure of him,” Duncan continued. “So proud of him. ‘Corey’s gonna rule the world someday, wait and see.’”
My words of yore coming back to me in this instant made me feel nauseous.
“He was remorseful,” Duncan informed me. “He told me he’d understand if I never forgave him. It was a moment of weakness. You were beautiful and he thought the world of you and admitted he had a crush on you and the booze made him stupid. He’d take that hit, of losing me. But I had to forgive you.”
Which, of course, would lead a man to think, Yeah, he was drunk, it’s a guy thing. I get losing control. But her? She’s a slut out for the best thing she can get.