Page 35 of The Intimacy of Finding You

He shrugged, leaning his head back. “For becoming the type of monster you’ve already escaped before.”

I took a single step back. It was instinct. He was so bright. So fucking bright, and I saw it written in the sky above us. I could see the moment it’d happened so vividly. An explosion so big and so powerful, it threatened to knock me off my feet.

A piece of him was slowly dying.

A new star was being born.

A supernova so bright, I could hardly stand to watch it. Did he realize it himself? Or was I the only one who could see it? Last night was just the beginning—Tobi was getting closer, even if he didn’t know it yet. I just had to let him come to me. I couldn’t rush it.

“You’re not a monster, Tobi. You’re hurt. It’s different.”

He let his head roll against the wall. “Don’t comfort me, Callum. It ain’t deserved, and it ain’t worth it. Go enjoy your Christmas. I’m gonna try to scrounge up somethin’ to eat and head back to Driftwood.”

I’d say we were making progress even if he couldn’t see it, but who was I to decide that?

Christmas dinner had been chaos, but it was the type of chaos that was lovable. The kind that reminded me how full my heart was and how rich my life was. Fishy was having the time of his life with Willow and David’s puppy, Fred.

Yeah, Fishbowl and Fred. Best of friends.

Crew and Price were arguing over whether to ask us for help taking down all their decorations, per usual. It always ended up the same—Crew would whine and say it was unfair because we were guests in their home, Price would use logic and reason because he knew we didn’t mind, and we’d end up helping them anyway. We’d take everything down and pack it up except for them.

Jack was glued to the couch, rubbing his stomach after gorging himself on the meals of professional cooks. He couldn’t stop talking about how good everything was, and I kept having to remind him that we’d get to take home leftovers since Crew really did buy enough to feed a small army.

I, on the other hand, was glued to the couch because I couldn’t stop thinking about Tobi. He would’ve loved this. He would’ve hated missing everyone. Or maybe not. The old Tobi would have. Would the Tobi now?

I hated thinking about him like that. The Tobi I knew before versus the Tobi that’d sat in front of me and told me he’d deserved all the abuse he’d endured. The idea filled me with simmering hot rage deep in my gut, waiting to be unleashed, though I couldn’t do anything about it. I wouldn’t know where to begin. I wouldn’t know who to target. If I gave in, I’d find a flaw in everyone I saw walking down the street. They could all be guilty, and I wouldn’t know the difference.

For Tobi, I’d do anything. I’d become a rabid dog with only one thing in mind—to protect. Protect what was mine, even though I couldn’t call him that anymore.

“You gonna help get this down, Cal?”

I looked up, slowly coming back from it all. Willow stood in front of me, a hand on her hip. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that. Sorry.”

“Hey,” Jack leaned closer to me and whispered. “You doing okay?”

No. No, I wasn’t doing okay, but I wouldn’t be okay until Tobi was okay. “I’m fine. Uh, hey, can I go smoke real quick before we start?”

Willow shrugged. “I don’t mind. Just be quick. We’re gonna start without you.”

“Want me to come?” Jack asked.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll be back in a moment. You can start helping them if you want, though.”

I found my way out onto the porch, looking over the fluffy, gorgeous snow that had fallen and covered the grass. It was really fucking cold. Too cold for me to be standing out here like I was, but I understood. I understood a tiny, small percentage of what Tobi meant when he said drinking numbed him and made things go away.

I’d never fully understand to the extent to which he experienced it, but I’d be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t have a vice of my own. Smoking made the anxiety just a little bit better. A little easier to handle. I could grip the air with my hands and feel like I was in a true reality instead of just aimlessly drifting in a fuzzy, confused state of nothing and everything all at once.

Anxiety played with my body, torturing it from the inside of my brain outward. Nicotine made it better, if I was lucky enough. Sometimes, the hand-to-mouth movement didn’t distract me enough, and the smoke wasn’t visible enough to keep my focus on, and the way my lungs burned a little when I inhaled didn’t satisfy the need to feel something besides the racing thoughts and tingling that crept into the back of my head and wouldn’t stop.

Silent disco. Calm on the outside. Complete and utter chaos on the inside. Discos weren’t fun. Anxiety attacks were even less fun. Impending panic attacks? The absolute fucking worst.

The door creaked open behind me just as I took the first drag of my cigarette. I watched as Crew came to stand beside me, placing his hands on the railing. I guess we weren’t going to talk.

My breath mixed with the smoke and the chill in the air, creating its own new mist. It was fascinating enough for now—at least until the restlessness in my body and mind grew to be too much.

“Did you lie to me?”

It caught me so off guard, I had to turn the other way to cough the half-inhaled smoke out of my lungs. It burned. I kind of liked it.