Page 67 of Home Ice

“Fine …” It’s only when he sighs that I realize he’s been avoiding the conversation. “I really want to be happy and see this for the good sign that it is.”

“So why can’t you?”

“Because I’ve seen his progress before. He feels like he’s doing better, so he starts pushing himself, and then he figures out that he can’t do everything he used to be able to do. He starts feeling bad, then he assumes the antidepressants aren’t working, so he stops taking them, and then we end up in …” He draws a shaky breath. “Why him, Hawke?”

The heaviness of the conversation crashes down on me. “I … I don’t know.”

“Out of all the people in the world. All of the assholes. All of the people doing genuinely bad shit, it has to happen to him? It’s not fair.”

His voice is getting steadily louder, and I’m worried his dad will hear. “Barrett⁠—”

“What did he do to deserve this? What, Hawke? Because I don’t fucking understand it!”

“What are you doing now?”

He swallows, and it takes him a moment to answer. “Trying to sleep. I don’t do that very well.”

“Want to meet at the river?”

“Now?”

“When else?”

I can tell he’s thinking about it. “I have work early tomorrow.”

“And I’ll be there to help. Come on, we won’t stay long. You … it sounds like you need me.” I hate the way my voice drops to a whisper. How I can’t breathe until he answers.

His short laugh is a relief to hear. “Maybe I do.”

“Then … you said it’s not like you’ll be sleeping anyway.”

“See you in ten.”

Barrett hangs up, and I immediately jump out of bed. I don’t bother getting changed, just pull a T-shirt on and slip out the door in my pajama bottoms. It’s nice out, the moon throwing everything a soft silver and black, but I’m too focused on getting to my car and meeting Barrett to pay much attention to anything.

It’s really hitting me, in all these quiet, still moments, how large the gap he left in my life was. The way I crave his presence every minute of the day. The way I was going out of my mind for three days wanting to see him, but not wanting to disrupt his schedule.

And here I am, doing exactly that.

In my defense, this is for him. I’m only creeping out of bed in the middle of the night so that I can comfort him. Doing it over the phone isn’t enough, not when we can be together in minutes.

My heart is thrumming the entire drive, all the way down the forest trail, until I reach our spot. Barrett’s car comes into view, already waiting, and where I’m expecting everything to settle, the thrumming only gets worse.

“Hey,” I say, climbing out of the rental. He’s sitting on his hood, looking out at the river, and he tries for a smile.

“Sorry about … that.”

I pull myself up to sit next to him, thighs touching, and turn to take in his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it just …” A tiny laugh catches in his throat. “Sometimes when I’m talking to you, I forget to hold shit in.”

“Good.”

Barrett’s shoulders sag. “I shouldn’t have said all that. It isn’t fair to think that way.”

“I would have thought it was normal to think that way.”

“Maybe …”