“Can’t have it being too easy.”
“No. Can’t have that.”
“I want to leave,” I tell him.
He waits. He knows me better than that.
“But if I do, I’m going to kick my own ass for it later, aren’t I?”
“If not you, then I will,” he reassures me. “Enough is enough. It’s time to put on your big-boy pants and get this done and over with.”
I look back up at the house. “Yeah.”
“You want me to wait out here?”
I really do. Chances are I’m going to chicken out and will need a getaway vehicle waiting for me. Or Dominic will open the door, see it’s me, and slam it in my face. Or I’ll have misunderstood everything and Stacey will answer the door and call for her husband and smile at me and say, “Welcome to our loving home, where we love each other and live in loving matrimony filled with large amounts of love.” Or (and this one is by far the worst) Dominic will open the door, invite me in, and I will have to go inside with him, and it’ll just be me and him, and he’ll sit across from me, staring at me and waiting until I speak, and I won’t be able to think of a single goddamn thing to say. I won’t be able to think of anything at all, because what do you say to someone like him? What do you say to the person who hurt you like no other (even if he didn’t know it was happening)? What do you say to the person who, aside from your brother, has had the most influence on your life?
Without Bear, I would not be alive. This, I know.
But without Dominic, I have not been whole. This I’ve known for a very long time, whether I’ve wanted to realize it or not.
“No,” I say to Corey. “It’ll be fine.”
“I almost believed you there.”
“It will.”
“I’m convinced.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“I promise.”
“I could go talk to him before you,” he says. “Take him down a few pegs.”
“I’m pretty sure he could squash you. With one hand.”
“Yeah, can we talk about that for a minute? I didn’t know you were into the muscles. That brings a whole new dimension to you. We’ve all got our kinks, I suppose.”
“What? I’m not!”
He stares at me.
“A little,” I admit. “So he’s a big guy. Big deal.”
Corey rolls his eyes. “That’s an understatement. He’s a fucking giant. God, what I would give to just bite into one of his biceps.”
“Corey!”
“What!”
“I don’t know!”
“Then why are we yelling!”
“That’s not what this is about,” I say, wiping the sweat from my forehead. Goddamn stress sweat. This makes me think of that deodorant commercial and I laugh quietly, but it comes out high-pitched, like I’m trying to sing an aria while gargling mayonnaise. Sweat drips down into my eye and it burns like crazy, and oh my fucking God, why did I think I could do this? Why on earth did I think this was a good idea? Drive! I want to scream at Corey. Drive, you motherfucker! Get me the fuck out of here!
“Then what is this about?” he asks me, ignoring my operatic-condiment laugh and the gallons of sweat leaking from my body.
I have no fucking clue what this is about. “Just… not that.”