I refuse to think about our history and that the text I got before that one was from Thanksgiving, lining out our trip back home.
Our text thread went from dozens a day to fewer than that a year, and I blame him for all of it.
If he hadn’t—
“We’ll stop for burgers on the way out of town,” he says as he shoves his suitcases into the backseat.
Instead of biting his head off, I grind my teeth further and climb into the passenger seat. We aren’t close enough for me to complain about his trunk being too full of random shit. Those days are long past.
If it weren’t for both of our families back home, I’d fly back home, but we somehow came to a mutual agreement that we wouldn’t let the people we love the most know we’re not even acquaintances any longer.
His dad married and had a baby with Sophia, their bond growing by leaps and bounds the night we were held hostage, where ours was the beginning of the end.
Explaining what happened would be too messy.
I’d look like the asshole I am, and Rick would have to confess who he really is to everyone, not just his dad.
I don’t know why I still protect him, why I suffer through these trips several times a year just to help him save face. It’s not like anyone who matters would bat an eye at his sexuality. Cerberus was and will always be accepting of those in its inner circle.
Maybe we’re both trying to skip those awkward conversations. Maybe if people know the truth, we’d have to admit to each other and ourselves that we destroyed a great friendship over something as petty as what happened that night.
I never saw my own actions evolving into what it is now.
“You’re still shaking,” I whisper.
“Sorry,” Rick mutters, his voice still broken and filled with the very same fear I felt when we were back at his house.
“We’re safe,” I say, echoing Sophia’s words from earlier. “Come here.”
Rick doesn’t hesitate to curl closer, the warmth of my bed making it easier to believe the words I’ve spoken.
“I thought—”
“I know,” I interrupt. “I thought the same thing.”
Having a gun pointed at your face brings with it a certain type of clarity. It makes you value the things you have, but it also forces you to sift through the pettiness and take a hard look at your life.
I realized tonight that I haven’t been the best I know I can be. I’ve taken a lax approach to training, knowing I’m sort of a savant when it comes to baseball. I know I won’t be going pro if I keep up that mindset. I’ll have to put in the work to make that dream come true.
“We could’ve died,” Rick says.
“We didn’t,” I remind him.
Despite all the training I’ve witnessed in my life, I’ve never seen my dad’s team in action. They’re incredible, a well-oiled machine, working efficiently even when it involves people they care for. It made me wonder if Cerberus, rather than baseball, is the better choice for me. I could feel the comradery rolling off them, and in the moment, I wanted to be a part of it rather than the person being rescued.
“We saw a man die tonight.”
“We did,” I agree.
“I feel bad for him.”
“Don’t. He doesn’t deserve your pity.”
“He was brokenhearted,” Rick argues.
“I can’t imagine loving someone that doesn’t love you back,” I say, because it feels like the right thing to lend my best friend compassion, although I don’t feel any on my own.
The man threatened a woman I grew up with, pointed his gun at my best friend. Those actions are unforgiveable, and he got what he deserved.
Despite my own feeling, I know Rick has a softer heart.
He pulls away from my chest, his red eyes staring down at me.
“I know how he feels.”
I nod in understanding. “Seth is—”
He shakes his head. “I’m not talking about Seth.”
I see the decision he makes, probably understanding it a second before he does. My best friend has been struggling with a secret for a while now. I’ve prayed numerous times over recent months that he would lose interest or realize and accept that what he wants is something I’ll never be able to give him.
I’m sure many people would miss the signs. They’d chalk up the way he stares at my mouth as a way of trying to truly hear what I have to say. They’d try to reason that his eyes on me at all times is because of the bond we’ve shared since we were kids.
They’d be wrong.
I know this boy as well as I know myself.
Rick Matthews thinks he’s in love with me.
He’s not because that would be just ridiculous, but I’ve known for a while it’s something he’s been struggling with.