eyes closed, willing reason, understanding, and clarity to find its way in.
“Don’t do this,” he said. “I love you too much. It feels like I’m dying.”
He brushed the hair from her face and saw that his fingers shook. She wanted to leave; she wanted to set everything he loved ablaze. The realization, powerful as it was, made him cling to her, too terrified of what letting go would bring.
“I want to believe you,” she said, voice muffled against his shirt. “It’s just that Mike—”
Tak withdrew. Cold.
“Mike?”
Danger coursed through his veins.
“Don’t you try to turn this on me. You’re the one who—”
“Who what? Had a girlfriend before he met his wife?”
“Except she wasn’t a girlfriend, was she?” Deena shoved away from him. “Because you didn’t have those. Just, a few hundred casual encounters.”
He closed his eyes. Told his hands not to pull out all his hair.
“Unbelievable,” he said. “After all these years, you wanna ride me about what I did in college? Why don’t you get pissed about my prom date, too? Were we together back then without me knowing it?”
“You keep trying to act like I’m crazy. But you’re the one who’s off if you expect me to believe we got a 23 bedroom, 15,000 square feet mansion for $7 million dollars, because you used to be a good lay.”
Fuck. He could put a fist through his cousin. He could kill him slow and enjoy it.
“Fine, Deena,” Tak said. “You win. You want to believe—”
“I don’t want to believe anything.”
“No, you do. Because it’s what your boyfriend told you. What he do, whisper it in your ear while you were locked away in that cupboard?”
“Oh, I was waiting for that! For you to make that nothing into something.”
“Nothing?” Tak yelled. “You sneak into the bathroom with my cousin, a guy you know wants to screw you. You lock the door, get caught, and somehow, that’s nothing. But I’m on trial for a girl I dated when fanny packs were hot.”
“We live in her house!” Deena screamed.
But she could scream at herself.
Enough, Tak thought, and stormed out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You shouldn’t have done it,” John said. “You implied something you knew wasn’t true.”
Mike studied his fingernails as he leaned against the door of their bedroom, jaw set firm.
“I know no such thing,” he said. “And I only told her what I knew. How she took it was up to her.”
John stood. Got in his face.
“Except it wasn’t really up to her, was it? You made sure she took it exactly how you needed her take it: the worst way possible.”
Mike looked his kid brother over. Clumped, bedraggled, black hair. Rumpled white shirt, same as the day before. Even in his own grief, he had time to defend everyone’s favorite person.
“Is he even talking to you?” Mike said. He dragged over to the window and took a seat on the sill. “Last I’d heard, he’d treated you like a fool for losing your wife. If nothing else, I’d think you’d be glad to show him he’s capable of failing.”
John didn’t answer, so Mike turned to his view of the ocean. Pale blue stretched out to darkness. Rain splattered the surface, falling from a sky near black despite the hour.
“You think I did it because I want her for myself,” he said.
“I know you did.”
Mike looked at his brother with clinical interest.
“You think it’s wrong, how I feel. You think it’s a sign of immorality.”
John sighed with the effort of a man lacking oxygen. “I think you always want what you can’t have.”
Mike stood.
“You should have come to me,” he said. “When you started having problems with your wife. You should have called on me, not him, when you needed someone to talk. And you should be defending me, not him, always.”
“Mike—”
“You always preferred him. Whenever he came to visit, when he called, you forgot me. You forgot plans, promises—”
“Mike,” John shook his head. “Is this
“Don’t do this,” he said. “I love you too much. It feels like I’m dying.”
He brushed the hair from her face and saw that his fingers shook. She wanted to leave; she wanted to set everything he loved ablaze. The realization, powerful as it was, made him cling to her, too terrified of what letting go would bring.
“I want to believe you,” she said, voice muffled against his shirt. “It’s just that Mike—”
Tak withdrew. Cold.
“Mike?”
Danger coursed through his veins.
“Don’t you try to turn this on me. You’re the one who—”
“Who what? Had a girlfriend before he met his wife?”
“Except she wasn’t a girlfriend, was she?” Deena shoved away from him. “Because you didn’t have those. Just, a few hundred casual encounters.”
He closed his eyes. Told his hands not to pull out all his hair.
“Unbelievable,” he said. “After all these years, you wanna ride me about what I did in college? Why don’t you get pissed about my prom date, too? Were we together back then without me knowing it?”
“You keep trying to act like I’m crazy. But you’re the one who’s off if you expect me to believe we got a 23 bedroom, 15,000 square feet mansion for $7 million dollars, because you used to be a good lay.”
Fuck. He could put a fist through his cousin. He could kill him slow and enjoy it.
“Fine, Deena,” Tak said. “You win. You want to believe—”
“I don’t want to believe anything.”
“No, you do. Because it’s what your boyfriend told you. What he do, whisper it in your ear while you were locked away in that cupboard?”
“Oh, I was waiting for that! For you to make that nothing into something.”
“Nothing?” Tak yelled. “You sneak into the bathroom with my cousin, a guy you know wants to screw you. You lock the door, get caught, and somehow, that’s nothing. But I’m on trial for a girl I dated when fanny packs were hot.”
“We live in her house!” Deena screamed.
But she could scream at herself.
Enough, Tak thought, and stormed out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You shouldn’t have done it,” John said. “You implied something you knew wasn’t true.”
Mike studied his fingernails as he leaned against the door of their bedroom, jaw set firm.
“I know no such thing,” he said. “And I only told her what I knew. How she took it was up to her.”
John stood. Got in his face.
“Except it wasn’t really up to her, was it? You made sure she took it exactly how you needed her take it: the worst way possible.”
Mike looked his kid brother over. Clumped, bedraggled, black hair. Rumpled white shirt, same as the day before. Even in his own grief, he had time to defend everyone’s favorite person.
“Is he even talking to you?” Mike said. He dragged over to the window and took a seat on the sill. “Last I’d heard, he’d treated you like a fool for losing your wife. If nothing else, I’d think you’d be glad to show him he’s capable of failing.”
John didn’t answer, so Mike turned to his view of the ocean. Pale blue stretched out to darkness. Rain splattered the surface, falling from a sky near black despite the hour.
“You think I did it because I want her for myself,” he said.
“I know you did.”
Mike looked at his brother with clinical interest.
“You think it’s wrong, how I feel. You think it’s a sign of immorality.”
John sighed with the effort of a man lacking oxygen. “I think you always want what you can’t have.”
Mike stood.
“You should have come to me,” he said. “When you started having problems with your wife. You should have called on me, not him, when you needed someone to talk. And you should be defending me, not him, always.”
“Mike—”
“You always preferred him. Whenever he came to visit, when he called, you forgot me. You forgot plans, promises—”
“Mike,” John shook his head. “Is this
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