I keep some secrets to myself.
I don’t tell Bowen the real reason that night was so horrific, besides the obvious. I don’t tell him that Colson is both heaven and hell residing in the same body—a monster that I let live in the back of my head for years, willingly visiting him when life becomes quiet and my mind begins to wander. I stay there until the flashbacks start and I have to come home again and the nightmares start all over again.
I gasp, flinching when I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I dig it out from behind me and see it’s a text from Barrett. Instead of swiping back a response, I just call her, tossing my phone onto the passenger seat as soon as the Bluetooth connects.
“Hey,” I start the Tahoe’s ignition when she answers, “I know you’re in the middle of healing the world, but I need your undivided attention.”
I need her to tell me I’m making the right choice, that I’m being a rational and mature person who wants to move beyond all this. But even though Colson’s voice sounds just like it used to and it feels like we can pick up where we left off, the small voice in the back of my mind still cautions me.
Hopefully we can bury the hatchet, just not in my head.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Brett
One Year Ago
“I’ve heard of it happening. It’s real…” I can tell Barrett is trying to work it out in her head to make it OK.
She waffles back and forth, trying to decide which is more concerning; Colson’s revelation that he has a sleep disorder that turns him into a homicidal maniac or that I neglected to tell anyone that I was the target of an attempted murder three years ago.
Frankly, I’m shocked I’m able to get through the entire story with Barrett without having a panic attack. Telling Bowen was different—I didn’t know him very well at the time. But Barrett knows me. We shared an apartment when all of this happened. And she knows who Colson is.
“You know,” Barrett muses as I turn into the gravel drive, “this makes a lot of sense now.”
“Why?”
“Because now I realize a lot of the weird shit you do are just trauma responses. And you’re so avoidant, it’s no surprise you could just get up the next day, go to brunch, and sit there eating your eggs Benny like nothing happened.”
Like I said, I’m really good at compartmentalizing.
But Bowen isn’t as pragmatic.
“You think I’m overreacting, but I’m not,” Bowen’s deep voice has an edge sharp enough to cut stone.
He doesn’t look at me, but keeps concentrating on the TV where he’s been playing Dark Souls since I got home. He took off his headphones as soon as I walked in, but when I said Colson’s name, his jaw twitched and he became laser focused on destroying anything in his field of view.
After depositing my work bag next to the door, I stroll around the sofa and make my way to the cushion next to him. I take a seat and draw my knee up under me, about to respond when I catch something on the screen and do a doubletake.
“Does that say—” I crane my neck forward and squint at the TV, “is that person’s gamer tag American Ass Eater?”
“Yeah,” Bowen snickers.
“What’s yours?” I ask, searching the screen before finally seeing it, “Osama bin Laggin?” I let out a laugh, “Why is your name Osama bin Laggin?”
“Why not?” he shrugs, sounding a bit more upbeat, “I’ve had it since high school.”
“And who is—” I squint at the screen, “Finding Chemo?”
Bowen’s grin widens, “Jay’s had his since high school, too.”
Oddly enough, that explains everything. A minute later, after he’s unceremoniously thrown into the abyss by some demon dragon, Bowen sets his controller down and rolls his head over the cushion to look at me.
“You really don’t see what he’s doing?”
“What’s he doing?” I ask, knowing full well what Bowen is going to say because I’ve already thought of it, too.
“You know,” Bowen raises his chin and eyes me expectantly, “I know you know.”
I shift my gaze to the sliding glass door, staring absently at the dense line of trees across the lawn. I run my tongue between my lips, dragging my bottom lip through my teeth. I know, but it doesn’t mean I want to say it out loud.
“You think he’s lying,” I murmur, giving him a weary look.
“I know you don’t want to believe it because it would be a lot more convenient if he turned out to be normal. But I know you, Brett, you avoid things that make you really uncomfortable or when you feel like you aren’t in control. And usually, that’s fine. But, this time, you need to pay attention because he’s not through with you yet.”
Man, you and Barrett both have me pegged, don’t you?
“OK,” I take a deep breath, “so, what do I do?”
“Stay away from him. Maybe don’t get chatty and give him a bunch of details about your life because I’m the one who’ll have to take care of it if he decides he didn’t get his fill last time.”
“Oh,” I perk up, “like waterboarding him?” I flash Bowen a smile, “Rip off some pinkies, perhaps?”
Bowen grins, probably for the first time since he’s been home, “You sound pretty excited about that.”
“I’ll get excited about that later. But I do actually need your help with something else,” I toss my hair away from my face, “because it’s finished.”
“What’s finished?”
