“The hell it is.”
“I do not need counsel.”
“You need a map, a shove, and possibly a brain scan.”
I keep walking.
Al raises his voice. “You love her.”
I stop so hard my boot grinds against grit.
The word does not echo. The tunnels swallow sound too well for that. It only hangs there behind me, raw and impossible, like a live wire lowered into standing water.
I turn slowly. “Do not say that.”
“Why? Scares you?”
“Yes.”
Al’s face changes. He expected denial. Perhaps anger. Perhaps another tactical retreat disguised as maintenance. Honesty makes him sit back.
I look toward the far lamps where the tunnel bends toward darkness. “Do not use that word carelessly.”
“I’m not.”
“You do not know what I feel.”
“Son, everybody down here knows what you feel. Maren’s kid knows, and he still thinks thunder is caused by clouds bumping butts.”
I close my eyes. “That is an unfortunate theory.”
“It’s not my favorite either, but here we are.”
“I cannot love her.”
“Too late.”
“No.”
“Already happened.”
“No.”
Al sets his cup aside and braces both hands on his knees. His voice drops, and that is more dangerous than his mockery. “Kauss, I’ve seen men before battle. I’ve seen men after they lost the thing that kept them human. I know the difference between wanting a woman and loving one. You don’t look at Evie like you want to own her or impress her or get between her sheets and brag later. You look at her like she’s a door you don’t believe you’re allowed to walk through.”
My throat tightens.
“She deserves better than me,” I say.
“Probably.”
The answer is so immediate I look at him.
Al shrugs. “What? You want me to lie? She deserves the stars gift-wrapped and delivered by a choir. That doesn’t mean she wants some polished idiot from downtown with soft hands and a yacht-shaped personality.”
“She has suffered enough.”
“She’s suffered thieves, gang punks, broken windows, and you being noble at her until everyone in a five-block radius gets a headache. Let the woman decide what she can handle.”
