Chapter Thirteen
How the hell am I supposed to thrive when I feel as wrung out physically as I do emotionally, after everything I’ve just laid bare.
And the fuck of it all is, he doesn’t even know all of it—the extent of Marlin’s abuse.
Not a soul on this planet—above ground or below—does, except for me and that fucking child molester.
I guess I can now add this to the list of half-truths I’ve ever given anyone, however.
That’s progress Brooks was hoping I would make, though I never expected it would be with Gannett, of all people.
The last person who I would expect to have any shred of empathy, because all he does is fuckin’ joke around all the time, sat right here and held me while my floodgates burst.
Gannett, whose deep blue eyes are regarding me with such compassion and concern right now, that I’m damn near close to breaking down all over again.
They’re the same eyes that broke me on the mat earlier, when he was pleading for me to give him this truth.
I lost all the fight I had in me, once I saw how damned determined he was to beat me and win that bet.
I could have rallied and taken him, but something in my gut told me that if he thought I was worth fighting for then, he might just think I was worth fighting for after he’d heard what a lost cause I am.
For the briefest second, it was almost like Ryann sent him there so he could save me.
It’s irrational, I know, but even now, I can’t shake the feeling that she had a hand in him showing up at the gym, when my plan was to come home and—
“I know I’m not a miracle worker, and I don’t know a damn thing about how to help you win the long-game,” Gannett says, cutting me off from my self-loathing, “but, what can I do right now to help?”
Desperately not wanting to wind up like I did this past week—remembering how I’d failed Ryann, and regressing back into that dark hole I’ve spent years trying to claw my way out of—I ask, “Can you… stay with me tonight?”
The shock in his expression, likely at my unorthodox ask, quickly gives way to—I don’t know—relief?
“Of course. I was going to suggest it anyway. I half suspected today might trigger a night terror, and, well, I’m sorry, but I’m not about to just let you ride it out.
I held you through one before; I’d feel better if I were here to do it again, if need be. ”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He smirks, pinching my cheek. “Such a big boy, using your manners.”
“Shut up, you dink.” I swat at his hand, scowling. Guess who is back to his usual bullshit.
“Are you hangry? I’m getting the feeling that you might be a little cranky…” he snarks. “I know I’m fuckin’ starving.”
I scoff then grin, curiously unable to stay perturbed by his goofy ass for more than a half a millisecond.
It’s genuinely relieving that he’s not still sitting here pitying me, honestly.
“I could eat, but not anything you cook. You owe me a new microwave, by the way. I cannot get the smell of smoke out of it.”
“Some people pay good money for that savory, smokey flavor, you know.”
“There’s a difference between mesquite and burnt electrical components,” I deadpan.
“Fiiine,” he huffs. “What do you want from downstairs? I’ll go down and make sure T-dawg has got the place under wraps.”
I give Gannett my order, and he gets up to head down to the pub. Before he goes, he looks over his shoulder. “Throw a Red Sox replay on or something. You can explain baseball to me when I get back.”
“You don’t know baseball? Weren’t you there at all Evan’s games back in high school?”
He grins. “Eh, I know enough to have a slight functional knowledge of the game. I’ve picked it up a bit over the last couple of years.
But, let’s not overlook the real question there.
You remember me from Evan’s games? I’m flattered!
But, true test of your memory, where did you ever recall seeing me at all those games? ”
I try to think back, but during all those games, my main concern was just playing well enough to earn that scholarship. I was laser focused, zeroed in on my ticket out. “Probably the snack shack, if I had to guess,” I tell him.
“Eeeh! Wrong-o,” he teases. “Underneath the bleachers, earning my title as best kisser at Ternbay Middle School.”
I snort. “Figures.”
He chuckles. “What? It’s a cool title to have!”
“Beats the one you currently hold.”
He cocks an eyebrow up. “Which is?”
“Peaked in middle school…” And, yep, I’m back on my bullshit too, I guess.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Respectfully, Crouton, go fuck yourself.” On that, he flips me off, and heads out the door.
A bang, a hiss, and some slight whimpering rouse me out of a dead sleep, and I jerk upright, wiping the drool off my stubbled cheek. I blink open my eyes to find Gannett hopping around on one foot while clutching his toes on the other, muttering curses under his breath.
“Fuck is going on?” I grunt, my voice gravelly from sleep.
“Three little pigs went down in the great war against your coffee table,” he grumbles. “Sorry, I was trying to slip off to go take a leak without waking you up.”
“Did you already piss yourself?” I ask, noting the giant wet spot on his jeans.
Confusion lines his brow, and he looks down at his pants. “Uh, no. That’d be from where you drooled all over me. You’re worse than a Saint Bernard, dude.”
“I fell asleep on your lap?”
He nods. “Sure did. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go drain the main vein. Been sitting there for hours, holding it in.”
Now it’s my turn for my brows to zip together. “What the hell, you’ve been sitting there just letting me sleep… on your lap.”
He rolls his eyes. “In the words of Gordy Masterson, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he taunts, doing a piss poor job of mocking my tone.
After he does his business and comes back out of the bathroom, he turns off the TV, starts shutting off the lamps, and gives me a little tap on my shin with his toes. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
I huff, but begrudgingly do as he commands.
My body aches as I stand, still strung taut from all the stress of today.
Once I’m in my bedroom, I start stripping out of my clothes.
I’m down to my briefs, my thumb just under the waistband, when, out of my periphery, I notice that Gannett has followed me into my room. My underwear stays put.
“What are you doing?” I snap when he starts shucking off his clothing as well.
He regards me as if I have two heads. “I don’t usually sleep with my clothes on, and it’s not like I brought my jammies.”
Jammies? What the fuck? Is he five? Also—why is he peeling back the comforter on my bed?
“You aren’t sleeping in here with me,” I grunt. Christ, I only asked him to stay here tonight so that I wouldn’t be alone, not so we could fucking cuddle it out or some shit.
“The fuck I’m not,” he balks. “Christ, the last time you had a night terror, you had practically strangled yourself in your bedsheets by the time I made it over here from the other room.”
“Gannett.” I glower at him, similar to the way I did when I had to scold Taryn when he was younger.
“Gordy,” he taunts back. Similar to the way Taryn used to throw "Dad" back at me when he was being a little shit.
I scrub a hand down my face. “Why the hell did I do this to myself?” I groan.
“Just get in the goddamn bed, for fuck’s sake. You act like I’m going to grope you while you sleep, but, if you recall, I was the one who was on the other side of the bed the last time. You were the one who went all octopus on my ass, wrapping me in your tentacles and shit.”
I scowl at him, but he just chuckles. Then he adds, “And if that weren’t enough, I do believe we were on opposite ends of the couch, watching the game, and before I know it, you were passed out on my lap.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and start counting down from ten. At this point, however, I don’t know if it’s a countdown to try to calm myself down, or if it’s signaling how many seconds he has left until I lunge over this damn bed and pummel him.
“Croot, I know I’m risking my damn life here, given the way you’re seething right now, but I’m not sleeping anywhere but in this bed tonight. Get… the fuck… over it.”
“Don’t let me cross over onto your side,” I huff, slipping under the blanket.
“No problemo,” he snickers, stacking pillows between us.
“I’ll just build a little fortress here, just like I did all those years ago when me and my family went camping.
Ev and I had to share a blow-up bed. Kept him back, but it didn’t drown out the snoring, though.
Ma once had to hold me back from using one of those pillows to smother him with. ”
I snort. Evan’s snoring is something Gannett and I can commiserate over.
That summer, back at Explorer Camp, I remember him keeping the whole tent up with it.
There were more than a few times that I had to play the role of Vickie Waters and stop our two other bunkmates from tossing him out into the woods in the middle of the night.
My grin that forms at the memory is quickly dashed away, however, when I recall how I’d ruined his life after that. We were the best of friends, until I fucked it all up.
“Should I have not brought Evan up?” Gannett rasps from behind the giant wall of pillows. “We can make that rule three—or is it four?—of living with you, but I’m going to be real honest with you, it’s going to be hard for me to do. He is my brother, after all. He is annoying, but I don’t hate him.”
I sigh. “No, it doesn’t have to be made into a rule. But—are you? Living here again?”
“Do you want me to? Christ, you just put up a huge stink about me sleeping in the same bed as you, and I don’t know how much longer before my apartment is livable again.
As of right now, it’s officially condemned.
The whole building’s wiring wasn’t up to code, and there was asbestos in places.
My landlord’s freaking out about what to do. ”
I roll over and prop myself up on my elbow, peering down over the pillows at him.
He blinks up at me, all of the playfulness from mere moments ago no longer present in his eyes as they flick between mine.
In its place, a sincerity like I’ve only seen one other time on one other person.
And I swear, it’s Ryann’s voice, not his, when he says the exact same thing she ever said to me: I promise, I will do whatever it takes for you. You just have to want it too.
The next words out of my mouth take me as much by surprise as they do him. “Yes, Gannett. Please stay.”