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Hell, who was I kidding? It had never been about fascination. He had been and still was an obsession.
My obsession.
"Matias, Mom called again. She said Dad doesn't have much time left."
"Good," I said simply before walking around Cruz and heading for the access door that led to the stairs.
"I'm going to go say goodbye."
It was all I could do not to lose it then and there. “Fine,” I responded, ignoring the hurt that felt like it was piercing my very soul.
“I want you to come with me.”
“No.”
“You won’t even consider—”
“No,” I repeated. I thrust my hands into the pockets of my jeans to keep them out of view. It didn’t matter because by the time I reached the access door, Cruz was there and his eyes immediately went to my pockets.
“Does it help? Hiding them?” he asked as he motioned to my hands. “Because it makes me feel like shit.”
I sighed and pulled my hands out of my pockets. “What do you want, little brother?”
“I want you to stop thinking I’m somehow choosing them over you. I want you to understand that I need closure… that I need to let go of that part of my life… of our life.”
“Fine,” I responded. This time, I couldn’t keep my eyes on his. “I have to go.”
“Where?” Cruz asked sharply. “Where do you have to go, Matias?” Not surprisingly, he didn’t give me time to answer him.
Probably because he knew I wouldn’t.
“Walking again?” he bit out. “I know you’re not chasing after Bishop because if you had a lead on him, any lead, you’d already be gone. Since you sleep for shit, I know you’re not going to be doing that tonight. That leaves walking around the city. Again.” Cruz’s voice softened a bit, the anger replaced by hurt. “Do you know what it does to me, Matias? To know my brother would rather lose himself night after night in a city full of strangers than spend even a few hours with me just watching TV or having a beer or whatever?”
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say because denying it would just make me a liar. I did avoid spending one-on-one time with Cruz. But that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me.
My silence did nothing to help the situation because Cruz’s face fell.
My brother tore his eyes from mine. He seemed to not know which direction to look. He nodded briefly, but it wasn't a nod of agreement. It was a nod of resignation. I opened my mouth to say something, anything that would keep me from pushing my brother further and further away, but no sound came out.
"I should go," Cruz mumbled and then he was turning on his heel and leaving.
Acid burned at my throat. I wanted to call out to him. But at the same time, I didn't. It made no sense. No fucking sense.
I turned around and stalked back to my ledge. As I climbed onto it, I tried drawing in several deep breaths and focusing on the jagged mountains overlooking the still water. But the restlessness, the helplessness inside of me continued to build. I dropped my eyes to the street below and watched as people went on about their daily lives. Part of me hated them for it. The other part of me just wanted to disappear among them.
I turned and stepped off the ledge with the intent of making my way down to the street and losing myself among the rest of the city goers who would have no idea there was a ticking time bomb among them. By the time I stepped out onto the sidewalk, I knew I wouldn't be doing any walking and I knew it wouldn't be a group of strangers that I lost myself in.
As I climbed into my car and pulled away from the curb, I told myself over and over again to drive to one of the many gay bars around town that I'd frequented in the past when looking for a quick and easy hookup. But fifteen minutes later, it wasn't the front of a trashy building I was looking at, but rather a quaint little house with a literal white picket fence and window boxes full of flowers.
I drummed my fingers on my steering wheel as I told myself over and over again to just turn the damn car around. But my body refused to obey my brain's commands. I got out of the car and quietly shut the door, then leaned against the car and just took in the sight of Sam's house. It was well after nine o'clock in the evening and I didn't see any cars in the driveway or in front of the house, so I could only assume that Elliot wasn't at the house. I'd parked a good hundred yards away from the house, so I wasn't able to see anything through the windows, but it didn't really matter because the front of the house wasn't my ultimate destination.
