Well, yippee for that. “Don’t sound so disappointed,” I say to him snidely.
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“No,” I retort. I pause. “Make what easy?”
“Get out of the car,” he orders in that tone of voice he does so well. I get out of the car quickly. My knees crack, and I bend backward to pop my back, feeling sand slide down the back of my legs, tickling my skin, catching on the hairs. He walks around the car and stands next to me looking up at the house. It needs a new roof. It needs new gutters. It needs to be leveled and made into a parking lot for a Walmart that will put all the local shops out of business. Why the hell are we here? I want to go home and take a shower and change my clothes and then take off those clothes and fuck like bunnies. It’s funny, really. Even though I was ready to talk to him until I was blue in the face less than an hour ago, I’m now so sick of talking about my feelings and his feelings and everyone else’s feelings. Shit can wait until tomorrow. I open my mouth to say as much, but Otter speaks first. For once I don’t interrupt
“He came back here to try and make me go with him,” he says, still looking at the house. “I don’t know if he thought he could persuade me or what, but that didn’t stop him from trying. I was shocked when he walked into my room, but I wasn’t surprised. I told you that I thought he would show up at some point. I just didn’t know that he would happen to pick the worst time in the world.”
I stay silent. My eyes don’t leave his profile.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Bear. I’m human. I considered it, if only for a second. And that was the worst second of my life. Even through everything that had happened over the past few days, that was still the worst moment of it all. That I actually considered leaving with him. I felt like I was betraying you, but worse, that I was betraying myself.”
I find my voice. “Creed called me. That’s why I came over. He said you were going back to California.”
He turns to face me. “I was, and don’t you give me that look, either. Creed was right: you two are the same. You never let me finish.” His admonishment is soft, but there nonetheless. “I said I was going back to San Diego, and Creed flipped out and started screaming that I couldn’t, that I just couldn’t. Then he called me a fucking bastard and ran out of the room.” He pauses. “I think he’d had quite a few shots by that point.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“I was going back to get the rest of my stuff,” he says as he takes a step closer to me. “I was going back to pack the rest of my things, and to tell my work that I wouldn’t be back after all. You see, even though this guy broke my heart, I wasn’t just going to run away again.” Another step closer. I can smell him now, his Otter-ness.
“You weren’t?” I say, staring up at him, unable to move.
He shakes his head. “I had plans for me and him. And I wasn’t going to allow a little thing like him saying I was a mistake and that he never wanted to see me again deter me from what I wanted.” Another step. I could raise my hand and touch him now, if I was so inclined.
“You weren’t?” I say brilliantly.
“Of course not.” His eyes flash, gold and green. “How was I to know that this guy was trying to protect me as much as he was trying to protect everyone else? How was I to know what was really going on behind those words he said to me? I didn’t know, but I knew that this guy, my guy, wouldn’t have said them without reason, without something that made sense, at least to him.” Another step and his chest bumps mine. Our hands stay at our sides. His breath warms my face.
“I should’ve told you,” I mumble, staring at the freckle on his cheek, a patch of
stubble he missed while shaving near his jaw line.
“Yes, yes you should have. You should’ve told me a lot of things. Do you know how much it hurt having to hear this from Creed? To hear this from my little brother and not the man I loved?”
I gulp. “Loved?” As in past tense?
“Loved,” he repeats. “Love.” Oh, how my heart beats faster. “Do you know what it felt like? I felt like I couldn’t be trusted to help figure this whole stupid mess out, that I wasn’t capable of understanding how scared my guy must have been. But then I realized how selfish I was being, how I was just thinking about me, and how it was I, I, I. It was never just about you or me. It wasn’t even just about the Kid, even though you thought it was. It was about all of us, Papa Bear. All of us.”
“It was?” I sniff.
He raises his strong hands and places them on my waist. The tenuous connection has been made. Electricity flashes through my body. I tremble. “It was. It is. And that’s the way it always should be. That’s the way it always will be. You should have told me what had happened, Bear. You should’ve told me so that you had someone to lean on, someone to make it seem like the world wasn’t such a scary place. I understand why you did what you did, but you should’ve trusted me enough to take care of it, to take care of us.”
For some reason, this makes me angry. I step out of his grasp, and his arms fall to his side. “I should’ve trusted you to take care of it?” I snarl. “What the hell would you have done? She was threatening to take the Kid away from me! She made me choose between the two of you and, God help me, I hate her for it. But I did what I had to do. Don’t you say that you would have taken care of it, because there’s nothing you could have done!”
“You’re right,” he agrees, and this causes me to deflate slightly. “You took care of it all on your own, didn’t you? But that’s not what I’m saying, Bear. I’m saying that while you can do it, you shouldn’t have to.”
I throw my hands up in the air and start to pace in front of him. “We’re quite fine on our own, Otter. We’ve been fine for three fucking years. So the last three months have been great, so it’s been over the fucking moon. We don’t need you to take care of us!” Who is this person talking? Who is this person who only moments ago was wanting him to tell me what to do? Why can’t I shut up for once in my life? These same old arguments keep rearing their heads, and it’s always me bringing them up. “He’s the only thing I’ve got!” I say, my voice breaking.
“You’re wrong.”
I spin around. “What?”
He steps to me again and wraps his arms around me. He’s so big, and I’m just a little guy, and I can’t move. I try to fight it, try to pull away, but then his hands are rubbing over my back, and his lips are near my ear, and his hot breath slides over my cheek. “You’re wrong,” he says harshly. “You’ve got me.”
“Why?” I cry out. “I push and push and push you away, and you keep coming back. Why!”
“Because I fucking love you, you idiot,” he growls in my ear. “Why the hell do you think I would buy you a fucking house if I didn’t love you?”