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But Lucky…
It felt like little shards of glass were being pressed into my chest one by one as I remembered the way he’d watched me expectantly from the bed after I'd pulled out of him and gotten up. I’d pretended not to notice, of course, but I'd been deeply aware of every expression, every sound he'd made as understanding had dawned while I'd gotten my clothes back on. And still I'd walked out like he was nothing… like what had happened between us was nothing.
When it had, in fact, been everything.
"Zach, wait," I heard Tag call, but it wasn't until I was halfway out the door that he grabbed my arm to stop me.
"Let go," I snarled as I rounded on my friend. Tag threw his hands up in supplication.
"He's not leaving," Tag blurted before I could say anything else. "Lucky is okay… he's not leaving, Zach."
My relief was palpable, so much so that I found myself reaching out to brace myself against the doorjamb.
"I just said all that shit about him to get a reaction out of you," Tag added.
It took me a moment to process his words. "What the fuck, Tag?"
"Do you have any idea how often you tell people you're fine?" Tag interjected. The raw anger in his voice caught me off guard and effectively silenced me. Tag ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. "God, I fucking hate that word. Fine! Do you want to know when the last time was that you told me you were fine and I actually believed you?" Tag snapped. "It was when you left for basic training and I told you not to get yourself killed. You were so goddamn excited to enlist… it was like you’d finally found that thing you'd been looking for your entire life. Next time I saw you, you were about to be deployed. I didn’t even recognize you. But you said you were fine. Every leave after that I watched more and more of you disappear and still you’d tell me you're fucking fine. Your brother goes missing for years and guess what… oh yeah, Zach's fine. Then Jake comes back and for once I believe that you might actually be fine and then you up and reenlist. The military spits you back out even more unrecognizable than ever but don't worry, you're fine. And now there's this kid… this kid you clearly have some kind of history with because one second you’re ignoring him, the next you’re coming down on him for nothing. Fast-forward to yesterday, and I'm watching one of the coolest heads I know completely lose it. So do me a fucking favor, Zach. Have enough respect for me to not tell me you're goddamn fine!"
Tag’s unexpected tirade left me standing on the edge of a cliff, though I had no idea how I'd gotten there. How had my friend seen all the things I’d worked so very hard to hide? And if he'd noticed, did that mean Jake had too? And what about my parents? Had they fallen for my “Zach's fine” routine or had they known it was all bullshit too?
"I called Lucky this morning to check up on him," Tag said softly after a moment. "He wanted to come to class, but I told him to take some time for himself. Guess what word he used when I asked him if he was sure he was okay," Tag said with a harsh laugh.
I didn't answer Tag because I knew he wasn't expecting a response. When I did manage to find my voice, it was only to ask, "How did he sound?"
It was Tag’s turn not to answer and that in itself was answer enough.
"I fucked up," I somehow managed to say. I felt hot and cold all over. Exposing any kind of vulnerability, whether it was to a friend or enemy, felt like I was exposing my throat for the deathblow. "I fucked up," I repeated more firmly. The words were for me as much as they were for Tag. I couldn't bring myself to look at my friend. I was afraid of what I would see in his eyes.
I sensed rather than saw his approach. I couldn't help but flinch when he settled his hand on my shoulder.
"Then fix it," was all Tag said and then he left the room. I desperately wanted to do what I’d done the night before after I'd left Lucky. But going back to my cabin and drinking myself into a stupor wasn't really an option.
I wasn't sure how long I stood in the doorway but when the students started filing back into the room, I blindly made my way back to the front of the class. I kept my hands busy by slowly writing things on the whiteboard that weren't necessary. When the chatter had died down, I forced myself to turn around. I avoided eye contact with Tag because I was afraid of the disappointment I'd see in his expression. He said to just fix things, but it wasn't that simple.
