Hot Summer Nights (Lucas Brothers)

“Jesus, Maggie, stop. If you have some other guy in Dallas and it’s eating you this bad, go to him. I love you, but I’d rather let you go than see you destroy yourself,” Bryant says, coming around the truck. “I’ll go get dressed and take you back to Mason,” he says, his tone empty, and he’s not even looking at me. I’m so frustrated—with him, with life—but most of all with myself.

“For the last time, there is no man in Dallas!” I scream as he makes it to the door.

He turns around and looks at me. I know that I’m crying. I can’t stop myself. I’m a mess, but the end of everything is coming, and as much as I know it needs to be done, it’s tearing me apart.

“Then, what is?” he asks, and I hate that his tone is soft. I hate that he’s trying to be good to me even now. I despise that I’m getting ready to hurt him more than I ever have before.

“My oncologist,” I whisper, the words bitter on my tongue.

I stare at him through the tears, the words so hard to voice that I immediately wish I could take them back.

“Your… Maggie are you sick?”

“I…I don’t know. There was an area on my mammogram that raised flags. I had to go back in for another test, but with the family history on my father’s side… odds are against me.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” he snaps.

“What good would it have done? Technically, I don’t know anything for sure yet. There was no point in letting you know until I did.”

“No point in letting me know… Did you seriously just say that shit to me, Maggie?”

“It’s true,” I respond, trying to keep myself under control, because Bryant is pissed. How a man can look scary when he’s standing in front of you completely naked, with a coat tied around his body, which only manages to hide his dick from view and nothing else, is beyond me, but he manages it. I wring my hands together, wondering how I can get out of this. I need to leave. He’s mad enough. I don’t need to do more damage. I know I’m being a chicken.

I just can’t stop myself.

“Holy fuck, all this time I thought you loved me. I knew you were working shit out in your mind, and yeah, it drove me crazy, but I understood, Maggie. I knew how much Brylee’s death hurt you, and I knew you blamed me. Fuck, I blame myself, but I never knew that the truth was you just don’t fucking care about me.”

“I do, too! I love you!”

“There’s a difference between love and care. There’s no way you can care about me if you can keep this kind of information from me.”

“There’s no information to share! At least not yet!”

“Would you have told me, Maggie?”

“Bryant—”

“I’m asking you a question, Maggie. Would you have told me?”

He asks the same question, but this time he pauses between every word so that it sounds more like an accusation than a question. I can’t breathe, but I push through just the same.

“Eventually,” I hedge.

“Eventually. Motherfucker!”

I jump as Bryant curses. He doesn’t curse a lot, and if the words are bad, that means he’s pissed. His anger always makes me defensive and fuels my own and that’s what happens here. I let it because it’s better to be angry than to wallow in hurt, fear, and self-loathing which have been my friends for too many years to count now.

“What? I didn’t want you to hate me, okay!?!” I snap.

“Well this is the wrong way to go about it, Maggie. ‘Cause I’ve got to tell you, darlin’, it’s having the opposite effect right now!”

“You’re the nice guy, Bryant. You always have been. How it worked that way with the vileness your parents can spew, I don’t know, but it’s true.”

“The nice guy? What the fuck does that mean?”

“If you knew I was sick, you would demand to be there. You would want to nurse me and take care of me!”

“So? Jesus Christ, Maggie. Of course I would want to do that. I love you! That’s what love does. You hold each other in the bad times and in the good times. You do it because you know without a shadow of a doubt that being with that person in the bad is better than your best fucking day without them.”

“Bryant stop!” I yell, unable to take his sweetness, his heart, his… love.

“Wouldn’t you, Maggie? Jesus, wouldn’t you drop every single thing to be there for me if the roles were reversed? Wouldn’t you take care of me and thank God for every single minute we had together?” he demands, walking toward me.

My body is shaking, and the tears have started again. I can’t stop them. I know it, so I don’t even try. I don’t want Bryant to touch me. If he touches me, I’ll grow weak and take the love he’s offering me. I’ve done it my whole life. I can’t let myself be weak now.