26. Inconvenient Truths
Chapter twenty-six
Inconvenient Truths
Sal
I take a deep breath as I stand on Haze's doorstep, my heart pounding in my chest. I raise my hand and knock firmly, the sound echoing in the quiet evening air. After a few moments, the door swings open, revealing Haze. His eyes widen slightly when he sees me, a mix of surprise and apprehension flickering across his face.
"Sal," he says, his voice low and hesitant. "What are you doing here?"
I meet his gaze steadily. "We need to talk, Haze. About Albany."
He presses his lips together, a muscle ticking in his jaw. But after a moment, he steps aside, allowing me to enter. I follow him into the living room, the familiar surroundings feeling strangely foreign in the tense atmosphere.
Haze turns to face me, his shoulders slumped. "Sal, I...I'm sorry. About what happened yesterday. I don't know what came over me, I just…"
I hold up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. "Haze," I say gently, my voice soft but firm. "This is so much more than what happened yesterday."
He blinks, confusion etched across his features. I take a step closer, my eyes never leaving his. "Albany told me everything. She told me what happened yesterday. But she also told me how she felt about you before the accident. About her relationship with Jake and your family."
Haze's face pales, his eyes widening with shock and pain. He sinks down onto the couch, his head in his hands. I sit beside him, close enough to offer comfort but not crowding his space.
"I know you're hurting, Haze," I murmur. "And I know that seeing Albany brought up a lot of painful memories. But we need to talk about this. About us. About where we go from here."
He lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting mine. I can see the turmoil swirling within them, the grief and guilt and confusion. But beneath it all, I can also see a glimmer of hope. A desire to make things right.
"I'm listening," he says softly, his voice rough with emotion.
I nod, taking a deep breath as I gather my thoughts. This conversation won't be easy, but it's necessary. For all of us. And as I begin to speak, I feel a sense of determination settle over me. We will find a way through this together. All three of us.
I sit across from Haze, my heart aching as I watch him struggle to find the words. I want to sit next to him, to let the heat of my thigh absorb into his, but I know that isn't what he needs right now. It's what I need. And this conversation isn't about me. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
"Sal," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I said I didn't want a woman in our life, it wasn't about possessiveness." He pauses, his eyes softening the way they do when he thinks about his wife.
"After Angie died, I made a promise to her. A vow that I would never love another woman the way I loved her." His voice cracks, tears welling in his dark eyes. "I thought...I thought that by keeping that vow, I was honoring her memory. That I was being faithful to the love we shared."
He slumps over his elbows, hands clasped, and whispers, "But I'm a hypocrite, aren't I?" His deep blue eyes drill into mine when he lifts his head. "Because I couldn't stop myself from falling for you. I used your masculinity as an escape hatch, as a bridge to skip over a few inconvenient truths."
"And what are those, Haze?" I regret the question as soon as it slips out of my mouth, but I couldn't stop myself. This discussion is about Haze. About holding him through the process of letting go of the promises he made to Angie, the promises he made with good intentions but used to close himself off from the world. I lift my hand. "I'm sorry. Please, finish speaking," I encourage after apologizing, scrubbing a hand over my mouth. I shift my weight on the edge of the chair, unable to contain the raw adrenaline that’s flooding my body. This conversation could destroy the future I long for.
The future that only works if Haze wants it, too.
"When I die," he whispers. "Oh God, Sal, I've lost count of how many breaths I prayed to be my last… " He shakes his head, then nails me with another gaze that punches me hard in the gut. The pain that radiates out of him is depthless. "When I die, God, I can't wait for the day I die, the day they're coming to get me. I know they will be right there, waiting for me to draw that final, rattling breath with their arms wide open, ready to welcome me home." My hand falls away from my mouth. I'm stunned into silence; the rawness of his pain is like razor blades over my skin, my inability to spare him his grief a thousand deep cuts. He continues, looking past me, fixated on that future day. "That part of the last few minutes of my journey has changed, but Sal, how I spend my time in this life and who they will be waiting for hasn’t. Because Angie would have loved you. And she wouldn't have begrudged me my love for you. Her heart was," he clears his throat, "her heart was without borders. Her love was infinite, her capacity boundless. She would hate how hollow my existence is."
I swallow hard. For once, my brain is quiet. My heart is bleeding, my breath bubbling through the red pain that fills up my lungs and seeps through my rib cage. Hot and viscous, his grief runs through me, dripping off the tips of my fingers into a pool I cannot drain. My brain is quiet because there are no words for the anguish he's suffered. There are no clichés to condense his journey, nothing I can do to carry him over the bed of hot coals the universe has made for him. All I can do is stand here on the other side and extend a hand.
Haze has to reach for it.
I have to stand still and let him take it.
"I thought I could use you because you're a man. I thought I could step over you, that fucking you in the dark of night wasn't breaking my vow to her. I treated you as less than human by doing that, and I am so very sorry."
His chest caves in a little as he sucks in a ragged breath, and I feel that air move through me like a chemical burn.
He stares at me.
Waiting.
I can't help it. A lopsided grin pushes up one side of my almost numb face. "That's not news, Haze. I used you, too. You were a fast, dirty, hot fuck. I had no desire to attach myself to an emotional freezer." He chokes, his eyes flashing wide before crinkling into a rough chuckle. "But the way you fuck… I wanted more. And when you let yourself start to slip out of the cracks, I wanted more than your thick cock and strong hands. I knew you were a fucked up, destroyed mess. Do you loathe or think less of me for walking back through your door, knowing you could never be mine?"
"No." He exhales, rolling his lips into a tight line. "I joined Behind the Lens because once I realized I had broken my promise to Angie, once I admitted to myself that I broke my promise because I was in love with you, I had to also admit that you deserved to be given everything your heart desires. I had to admit to myself that I was indeed interested in bringing a woman into our home. That Angie would be okay with me moving on. That she would have hated the vow I made from the beginning." He drops his face in his hands as a single sob tears free from his chest. His hands, pressed against his face, muffle only the sound. His grief stretches between us like a bottomless chasm, a black, time-warped hole of agony. But as he lifts his face away from his hands, a fragile, frayed bridge stretches through the nothingness. "She isn't the same girl my son dated. Just like I'm not the same man Angie married. I saw it. In her eyes, in the way she carries herself. She was remolded by the loss of my son, of my family. Just as you have been. Perhaps, by joining, we can reform again into something whole."
I reach my hand out over the river of fire, over the canyon of despair. Haze's warm grip meets me halfway and grips my fingers with a conviction that not even death can conquer.