Page 92 of Out Of A Fix

“Nash, I⁠—”

“Have you noticed you say us and our a lot?” I asked, changing the subject. “You said, Shelly doesn’t want us there. Us. Do you know how often you do that?”

“Say us?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t under⁠—”

“Our house. Our alarm system. Our family. You say those words, and if you’re doing it on purpose, that says something. And if you’re not, that also says something.”

He leaned against the counter. “I don’t know what it is, but you…when you hugged me that first day…it was like something changed in that moment. I felt like me again. I haven’t felt that way since Caitlyn left.”

“Why’s that?”

“It was like she took something away from me.”

“Which was?”

“I’ve thought about it a long time, and maybe it was the life I thought I had, how I felt about myself…I dunno. But like, when the kids hugged me, I was reminded of who I was, but we were all…distant. I was losing them, making so many wrong choices where they were concerned, but then you were here when I got home…and it was like I woke up. Like I’d been sleepwalking, and then a switch was flipped and I was alive again.”

“You realize that was time and the changes the kids made, and probably your pain and grief and anger finally subsiding. There was healing going on there.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he agreed, meeting my gaze. “Maybe everything aligned. And maybe it’s simply that you were supposed to be here for the kids and for me, and my life suddenly balanced out because you showed up.”

“You seem so calm about this, but we both know you’re straight, so maybe it really is time to start dating and find a new wife for you and a mother for the kids.”

“No.”

I waited a moment. “What?”

“No,” he repeated.

“Nothing else? Just no?”

He nodded. “I know I touch you all the time, I can’t help it, but I don’t know if you’re aware, you do the same.”

“I do not.”

He chuckled. “You crowd me, you bump me, you lean on me, a lot, and you always sit right next to me.”

“No, you do that to me.”

The throaty laugh was too good a sound. I had to smile.

“This is one of your favorite maneuvers,” he said, and shoulder-checked me gently.

“But you do that too.”

“Then,” he said with a shrug, “I suspect it’s because we want to be closer, to do what we did earlier in your room, but neither of us had the balls to act.”

I scoffed. “Again, you’re straight. There’s only ever been women.”

“And you’re what, gay?”

“Bi, actually. There have been women and men.”

“Okay.” He flipped the dish towel over his shoulder. “And have any of those been long-term commitments?”