It did make sense, which was part of the problem. Alex made me feel more like the man I’d been before my life blew up—competent, steady, worth something. But that was based on her not knowing about all the ways I was falling apart.
“Want to get out of here for a while?” Dom asked at length. “Go roast some marshmallows like old times?”
“You sure?”
“Dead sure. Give me ten minutes to grab stuff.”
He disappeared into the house, returning with a backpack, camp chairs, blankets, and a bottle of whiskey that looked older than both of us combined.
“Dad’s good stuff,” he shrugged, noticing my expression. “Figured tonight called for it.”
We loaded everything into the truck and drove the familiar path toward the edge of the property, where the pastures gave way to forest and the mountains rose in dark silhouettes against the star-filled sky. The firepit sat in a small clearing we’d carved out as teenagers—a ring of stones, log seating, far enough from the main ranch that we could see the lodge lights twinkling in the distance without being part of the activity.
We had a fire going in minutes—flames crackling to life and casting dancing shadows across the clearing. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, settled into one of the camp chairs, and accepted the mug of whiskey Dom poured.
“Remember when we used to come out here to plan our escape?” He relaxed into his own chair.
“You planned escape. I planned adventure.”
“Same thing, different timeline,” he raised his mug. “To adventures that don’t go according to plan.”
“To finding your way back home when they don’t.”
We drank in comfortable silence, the whiskey warming my belly and the fire providing hypnotic focus for thoughts I’d been avoiding all day.
“You ready to talk about it?” Dom’s voice was quiet in the darkness as he slowly roasted a couple of marshmallows.
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever’s bothering you. You’ve got that constipated look you get when you’re processing something heavy.”
“I don’t get that look.”
“You absolutely do.”
“Just thinkin’.”
“About Alex?”
About Alex. About medical cause and effect. About the way her last text felt like she was moving past something that hadnever been real in the first place.
I lifted a shoulder, “and then some.”
Dom was quiet for a moment, staring into the fire. He pulled the marshmallows out and held the stick toward me. I pulled one off—blowing on it before popping it in my mouth.
I swallowed and took a deep breath. “Dom?”
“Yeah?”
“If you found out you couldn’t—if there was something wrong with you that meant you couldn’t give Enzo the future he wanted, what would you do?”
The question hung in the air between us, heavy with implications I wasn’t willing to voice directly.
“Is this about the medical stuff you mentioned on the plane?”
I stared at the sky, weighing how much to reveal. “That’s a big part of it.”
“Finn,” Dom’s voice turned serious. “Whatever it is, you need to talk to someone about it. Me, your therapist, Alex—someone.”
