He snorts. “Creed isn’t exactly the master of subtlety. C’mon, Bear, you should know this by now. What did he say to me a few days ago? ‘You keep feeling sorry for yourself, Otter. You just keep on being a fag. Wait until I sic Bear on you again, then we’ll talk,’” he says, doing an eerie imitation of his younger brother. “You haven’t said two words to me since after you left last week, yet here you are.”
I curse under my breath. I look out over the back fence of their property and can see the ocean. It’s getting foggier by the second, and I shiver. Seagulls caw. I can hear the waves crashing down on the beach. “I’ve been thinking,” I say finally.
He arches his eyebrow. “About?”
“I guess what you said that night.”
He sighs. “I wondered if you would. You have a tendency to overanalyze everything.”
“Whatever.” We bend to pick up more trash. He holds the bag open in front of me as I shove paper plates in it. I avert my eyes to try and focus elsewhere, but I know we are heading toward dangerous ground, ground where there’s little to no footing. I begin to think this was a bad idea.
You might be the only one Otter will listen to, but I know for a fact he’s the only one you listen to, Creed says in my head.
He said that he’d thought he’d lost his only chance to be happy, Anna whispers.
Maybe Otter’s right, maybe I do think too much about things. But I wouldn’t have gotten this far, I wouldn’t have gotten Ty this far, had I not. I marvel again how people don’t seem to understand. It’s not their fault, I know, because they’ve never been in my position before. Being overanalytical is the only way we could have survived. I try to curb the irritation that’s rising in me. This conversation isn’t supposed to be about me. This is supposed to be about him.
“You think too much, Bear. You always have,” Otter insists, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just who you are.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Don’t take it the wrong way. I do the same thing.”
“Yeah?” I say. “Maybe you should work on that.”
He looks at me, an amused annoyance splayed out across his face. “Since when did you get so mouthy?”
“You’ve missed a lot, Otter. Maybe you should stick around for while this time.”
“Bear—” he starts.
“You really think you’re getting too old now?” I interrupt him, an idea forming in my head.
“I guess.”
“Too old to get into the jumping castle?”
He laughs and looks surprised at the sound. He glances up at the looming deathtrap that Creed has on reserve until tomorrow morning. “I don’t know, Bear. I’ll probably end up popping it.”
“Stop being such a pussy,” I say, a note of challenge in my voice. He looks me up and down, and we both know he could squash me in a heartbeat. He drops the garbage bag and throws his hands up into the air and starts kicking his shoes off.
“There you go, old man. That’s better,” I say as I slip off my own shoes. He grumbles something threateningly at my person and walks over to the entrance, peering inside. I see him start to change his mind, so I put my foot on his ass and push as hard as I can. I hear him grunt as he falls face-first into the jumping castle.
I climb inside, and it’s dark, and I can’t see him, and then he grabs my arm in the same spot that he’d done earlier, and I almost have time to form a thought, whatever it might be, but then he throws me across the castle, and I bounce off the wall and land on my back. He moves quickly and jumps right next to me, causing me to lift in the air and fly into the wall again, all the while, a great bellowing laugh pouring from his mouth, reverberating through the tiny confines of the plastic castle. I get up and glare at him, and he covers his mouth and snickers.
“You should see your face right now,” he says through fits of laughter. “It’s so fucking priceless. You look like—” But that’s all he gets out as I run silently toward him and tackle him around the midsection, putting the full force of my shoulder behind it. I think I’ve won whatever it is that I’m trying to win, but everyone knows jumping castles are unfair. As I drive him into the wall, my socks slip on the rubber surface and both feet slide out from underneath me and frantically I try to grip something, but all I have is a handful of Otter, and I pull him down with me. I land flat on my back and only have a second to react before he crashes down on top of me, my head against his chest. I can feel him breathing heavily, and I can hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest. I lay frozen for a moment, willing myself to move, but I can’t. I can feel the length of his body resting against me, and it’s nothing like Anna, the only other person I’ve had against me like this. It’s strong and hard and smells distinctly male, and a billion things flash at me at once, and I can’t breathe, and I can’t move, and all I can think about is him being here with me now, and it’s like the last three years didn’t even happen, and it’s like he’s always been here and always been Otter, and I’m terrified because I can feel myself growing hard at the weight of him and even though he’s only there for a second, it feels like an eternity. Then he tenses as if electrified, and he moves quickly off of me, and I feel cold and surprised as a singular tear slides down my cheek.
He scampers off into a corner on t
he opposite side, his face hidden by the shadows. I hear him breathing raggedly, and he sounds feral as he growls at me, “What the hell are you doing?”
I say nothing.
“What do you want from me, Bear?” he barks, sudden and vicious.
“I don’t know,” I mumble truthfully, not knowing what else to say.
Bear, oh Bear, my mind whispers sadly.