All this time I used to think it was annoyance.
Now I knew.
There was something there, wasn’t there?
I hadn’t been wrong two years before.
I frowned.
He looked into his drink.
“Hey, Rip,” I said.
“Yeah.” He was still staring down into the amber liquid.
“Do you hate me?”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. Just stared into his drink and whispered, “I wish I could.”
Not what I was expecting, so I forced a laugh. “Compliment or insult?”
His eyes met mine briefly as he threw back his drink and whispered, “Guess.”
Uncomfortable, I looked away. “It’s the grief, though, right?”
He was silent for a minute, then said, “It’s life, Colby. It’s fucking life.”