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What the fuck? No. What about Cade? No fucking way. He’s off-limits.
He follows me down the steps into the cabin without a word. He uses his eyes, listening as I show him the forward berth, the aft berth, and the flatscreen with a gaming system there. The head, its shower, and teak floors. The sound system and the…
Am I insulting him or boring him?
“You know much about boats?”
“Some.” He clicks open a storage cabinet. “Jeff’s raised me around them and—” he stops.
He just mentioned Cade’s dad. And his shoulders drop like he stabbed himself in the heart.
I know pain on another man when I see it. He won’t even turn around and look at me.
I’ve met Redix three times, and each one overwhelmed me with a sensation I don’t want to admit.
Yeah, I’ve seen him on screens for a decade, and me, like millions, am stunned by the sight.
But you don’t know a person from a screen.
You know them when they’re feet away and in so much pain you can feel it seeping from their pores. The energy around them is heavy with sadness and whatever plagues their soul, and you’re a total dickface not to want to help.
“What do you want to use a boat for? Fishing?”
Fuck, I don’t know how to dig us out of this awkward hole we’re sinking into. It’s powerful… but I’m trying.
He turns around. Desperation tenses his eyes. “I want it for my family. To teach my nephew to waterski. To take my mama out looking for dolphins.” He plops down on the ivory sofa. “We’re kinda prisoners in my house right now.”
And I know why. Anyone who has a device with media does. A week ago, a story about Redix and some man he was with years ago exploded in the press, and I can’t imagine his life since. It’s twisting his face. Not with shame. Not anger, either.
He looks like he’s gone fifty rounds and had the hell beat out of him, and he’s two more punches from falling. Like he’s strong as hell and has a lot of pride, but he’s human.
He can’t take anymore.
“Look, man. This boat is perfect for that. I fixed it up myself. You can run like hell in this vessel or troll nearby.” I won’t look away from him. “I made sure it works for both.”
Because I know his history with Cade, I know what he did for her. How he sacrificed himself and took the violence from those men who wanted her first.
And I damn well know the guilt she feels about it, and I don’t know all the details, but the agony on his face is heartbreaking. Like he doesn’t want to run. Or stay nearby. He wants to drown.
A hard swallow moves down his throat, and he stares out the galley window.
“Thanks. You’ve done a great job taking care of it. It’s a beautiful boat.”
He just said much more. About him. About Cade. About the blessing he just gave. You’d think he’d be happy, but his eyes search for the way to go.
I know the look.
When your heart tells you to do something for someone else, but your soul is dying as you do it. When you love someone, and they aren’t in your arms. When it hurts to be near them, but you’d rather have that pain than nothing at all.
I felt that way about Charlie. She was my everything. I felt that way about Alec. He was my dream. And I tried and couldn’t find a way to be with either of them.
I can’t do this. I can’t watch him suffer.
“It happened to me.”
Who gives a damn that we love the same woman? Doesn’t that make us more alike than some dumbass dude I shoot the shit with at a bar?
“I got outed too,” I tell him.
