Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
JENSEN
Me:
Sorry to just show up like that.
Iobsess over the message for longer than I should. All through dinner with my parents, I debate about whether or not I should send it, and it’s not until I’m upstairs, showered, and lying on my too-small bed that I finally get up the nerve to hit Send.
It’s late, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Barrett is already sleeping, but I can’t shake the feeling that my visit caught him off guard, and not in a good way. I guess we’re not back at that level of friendship of showing up at each other’s houses.
After driving Kasen home, I’d really wanted to see Barrett’s face. The whole drive was awkward, with me carrying the conversation and Kasen doing his best to be mentally anywhere other than with me.
It wasn’t until we got to his place that I finally got one word. A reluctant “thanks” before he jumped out of the car and disappeared inside. I didn’t even have time to throw back the deadpan you’re welcome that I’d wanted to.
The BMW was nowhere in sight, and I really hope they’ve parked it in the garage rather than, I don’t know, give it away, but surely even Amelia doesn’t hate me that much.
My phone pings beside me.
Barrett:
Don’t be. It was totally fine.
Me:
If it was so “fine” why did you look like you wanted me to disappear?
Barrett:
Caught that, did you? Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t trying to be a dick. There was a lot going on and you caught me right in the middle of it.
Fuck. I’m an idiot. He would have been talking to his dad about the job. Of course he didn’t want me there for that.
Me:
Apparently you’re right. I do make everything about me.
Barrett:
Only the important stuff.
Then he follows it up with a winky face.
My lips twitch.
Me:
Guess I’ll work on that.
Barrett:
Don’t. It’s one of the things I like about you.
I stare at the words, letting them wrap around me and fill me with, well, something that just feels good. I want to prod at the feeling, maybe mention that he makes me feel good, but I force myself to move on.
Me:
How is your dad?
Barrett:
According to him, perfectly fine. He was cooking dinner when I got home.
Me:
Anything nice?
Barrett:
Yes, tacos, but that’s not the point. The point is that he was cooking. He hasn’t done that in years. And now he wants to work. And the other day he came out and helped me weed the garden.
Me:
Okay, you’re coming across as panicky but those sound like good things? Aren’t they?
Barrett:
Is it okay if I call?
Always. It’s always okay if he calls. Instead of telling him that, I hit the Call button instead.
“Hey,” comes his raspy voice down the line.
“You do know that’s what phones are for, right? To call people?”
“I didn’t know if you’d turned into one of those guys who never answers.”
“Not me.” I relax back against my pillows, free hand tucked behind my head as I hold my phone to my ear with the other.
“I went through a short period where I stopped answering, but that’s because I had my number leaked during an away trip.
It was a full schedule, so I waited until I got home to change my number and ignored any incoming calls. ”
“Who the fuck would leak your number?” He sounds exactly as pissed as he should.
“I think it was someone I met on a night out. Most fans are amazing, but some of them …” I pull a face, thinking of the ones who cross all boundaries.
They see us as products of entertainment instead of the real people we are.
Thankfully, I don’t get a whole lot of it, but the signs I’ve seen for Lachie during warm-ups some games …
I don’t understand how hard it is just to enjoy the sport.
“It’s mostly harmless, but I’ve been followed home for an autograph before, and there are always fans who overstay their welcome at bars and try to tag along to the next place.
Like, I never want to be rude to them, but it gets really awkward, really quickly. ”
Barrett swears softly. “Followed you home?”
“Yeah … I think in their heads, they know they’re not going to cause trouble and that they’ll leave as soon as they get what they want, but there’s no way for me to know that. I signed their shit, but I didn’t like it.”
“Shit. Sorry. That’s not okay.”
“Eh. I thought we were talking about you.”
“We were, until I found out you have literal stalkers.”
I laugh at how worked up he sounds. I don’t see them as stalkers. More that they have too much enthusiasm and a real lack of self-awareness. “Tell me about your dad.”
“Fine …” It’s only when he sighs that I realize he’s been avoiding the conversation. “I really want to be happy and see this for the good sign that it is.”
“So why can’t you?”
“Because I’ve seen his progress before. He feels like he’s doing better, so he starts pushing himself, and then he figures out that he can’t do everything he used to be able to do.
He starts feeling bad, then he assumes the antidepressants aren’t working, so he stops taking them, and then we end up in …
” He draws a shaky breath. “Why him, Hawke?”
The heaviness of the conversation crashes down on me. “I … I don’t know.”
“Out of all the people in the world. All of the assholes. All of the people doing genuinely bad shit, it has to happen to him? It’s not fair.”
His voice is getting steadily louder, and I’m worried his dad will hear. “Barrett—”
“What did he do to deserve this? What, Hawke? Because I don’t fucking understand it!”
“What are you doing now?”
He swallows, and it takes him a moment to answer. “Trying to sleep. I don’t do that very well.”
“Want to meet at the river?”
“Now?”
“When else?”
I can tell he’s thinking about it. “I have work early tomorrow.”
“And I’ll be there to help. Come on, we won’t stay long. You … it sounds like you need me.” I hate the way my voice drops to a whisper. How I can’t breathe until he answers.
His short laugh is a relief to hear. “Maybe I do.”
“Then … you said it’s not like you’ll be sleeping anyway.”
“See you in ten.”
Barrett hangs up, and I immediately jump out of bed.
I don’t bother getting changed, just pull a T-shirt on and slip out the door in my pajama bottoms. It’s nice out, the moon throwing everything a soft silver and black, but I’m too focused on getting to my car and meeting Barrett to pay much attention to anything.
It’s really hitting me, in all these quiet, still moments, how large the gap he left in my life was. The way I crave his presence every minute of the day. The way I was going out of my mind for three days wanting to see him, but not wanting to disrupt his schedule.
And here I am, doing exactly that.
In my defense, this is for him. I’m only creeping out of bed in the middle of the night so that I can comfort him. Doing it over the phone isn’t enough, not when we can be together in minutes.
My heart is thrumming the entire drive, all the way down the forest trail, until I reach our spot. Barrett’s car comes into view, already waiting, and where I’m expecting everything to settle, the thrumming only gets worse.
“Hey,” I say, climbing out of the rental. He’s sitting on his hood, looking out at the river, and he tries for a smile.
“Sorry about … that.”
I pull myself up to sit next to him, thighs touching, and turn to take in his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it just …” A tiny laugh catches in his throat. “Sometimes when I’m talking to you, I forget to hold shit in.”
“Good.”
Barrett’s shoulders sag. “I shouldn’t have said all that. It isn’t fair to think that way.”
“I would have thought it was normal to think that way.”
“Maybe …”
I cock my head at him. “Not maybe. It’s shit. You’re right. It shouldn’t have been him.”
“Like I said, I don’t let myself think about what-ifs.”
“Didn’t sound like it to me.”
“I’m fine, Hawke.”
“You’re not.”
I watch his jaw flex, shadows creasing where the muscle tightens and lets go again. “Nothing will change what happened.”
“It won’t, but that doesn’t mean you have to be okay with it. That doesn’t mean we can’t all agree it sucks.” I turn to him, but Barrett avoids my eyes. “Who have you talked to about this?”
He glares out at the water. “No one wants me droning on about such a depressing fucking thing.”
“Droning on? What the fuck? You don’t have family to talk to? Friends?”
“They want updates. Positive things. They don’t want to hear about how I went weeks without sleeping because I was terrified he’d have another stroke in his sleep and I’d be too late.
They don’t want to hear about my sixteen-hour days trying to get on top of the bills.
They don’t want to hear about doctors’ visits, and being overwhelmed, and wanting to get in my car and leave and never come fucking back.
” Barrett huffs and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes.
“So no. I don’t want to tell people about that stuff.
They’d hate me if they knew the thoughts I really had. ”
All this time, I’d been so caught up in my own shit, so pissed off that he’d abandoned me to the stress of a new job, a new city, all on my own. And he’d been drowning. “I could never hate you.”
“Really?” His eyes are blank behind the tears shining in them.
“What if I told you, when he first came home after the stroke and I was on day seven with no sleep, he could barely get out of bed except when I was helping him with PT, and all he did was swear and scream at me, and I wished, for a split second, that he’d died instead?
” Barrett’s bottom lip wavers. “What then, Hawke?”
My heart splits in two. Not because he thought that, but because he’s letting it rot him from the inside out.
I turn, meeting him face on, and cup his jaw so that he can’t look away.
“I’d tell you that you need therapy. Not because you thought it, but because you love him so much that you’ve held on to the guilt for so fucking long. ”
His eyes squeeze closed, a tear slipping out, and his voice sounds wet when he answers me. “Therapy is for rich people.”
“Lucky I’m rich, then.”
His eyes snap back open. “No fucking way.”
My grip on him tightens. “I’m not negotiating with you.”
“I won’t take your damn money.” He dips out of my hold, but I grab his arm before he can get away.
“I won’t give you a choice.”
“It’s not up to you!”
But for as fiery as Barrett might get over this, I don’t care. He can’t keep a decade’s worth of trauma bottled up. I won’t let him. “Make an appointment.”
“No.”
He shoves me off him, but I grab his waist before he leaves. He’s not walking away this time. The more he fights me, the more I lean into the blows. He shoves and twists, trying to get away, but he was right when he called me stubborn. I’m winning this one.
“Let me fucking go.”
“Make me.”
“I’m serious—” His shoulder catches my jaw.
“So am I,” I growl through clenched teeth.
With a final shove, Barrett’s back hits the hood, my hands planted on his shoulders and leg pinning both of his.
“I won’t interfere in your life,” I tell him, struggling to catch my breath. “I’ll stand back while you work yourself into the ground, but what I won’t fucking do is let this one go. You need to talk to someone.”
“That’s not your call.” His chest is rising and falling quickly. “I’m fine. I’ve always been fine.”
“People who are fine don’t cut their best friends out of their lives like they never existed.”
We stare at each other for a very long time.
Then my fingers find their way to his temple. “This is too important to me. You’re too important to me. Please. I need to do this.”
“I’m fine, Hawke.” But there’s no conviction behind it.
The tension leaves both of us, but I don’t move off him. Don’t even want to. Those brown eyes that I’ve exchanged looks with a million times in our lives tug at something behind my sternum. “Please?”
“Hawke, I—”
“You’ve been there for your dad ever since he needed you. Who’s been there for you?”
He presses his lips tighter together.
“It should have been me,” I say with all the regret that exists between us. “It should have. Let me make up for it now.”
“I can’t take your money.”
“Then …” I scratch my brain for a solution and am surprised when it comes easily. “Think of it as repayment for coaching.”
“What?”
“I help you with coaching, and in exchange, you do this for me.”
“That’s not even close to even. Technically, I should be paying you.”
My thumb finds its way to the scruff on his cheek. “You’re right. It’s not even. Because you’ve always meant more to me than money … and you always will.”
“Okay,” he whispers, like he’s unsure but can’t keep fighting me.
“Okay,” I say, like I have all the answers.
Then I peel myself off him. He sits up stiffly.
And after a long moment of silence, he tosses me a smile.
“Race you!” Barrett’s in the water before I figure out what he means.