Levi shook his head slowly. “That’s not what I heard,” he pointed out.
“That’s because you weren’t there,” I snapped. “You didn’t hear the tone. The way he said it.”
“And you’re forgetting the part where he said he trusts you fully,” Levi countered.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
“He was defending you,” Levi went on. “Against another trainer who was clearly trying to diminish you. And you latched onto the one part that hit your insecurities and ignored the rest.”
I stared into my beer. The foam had thinned, leaving a dull surface that reflected nothing back at me.
“He still said it,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” Levi agreed. “And maybe he said it clumsily. Maybe his emotions were running high too. You think he enjoys having his fake husband questioned in public?”
That gave me pause. Levi took another sip of his whiskey.
“You’re not the only one under pressure right now. This whole situation’s tense. Maybe there are even eyes on you both,” Levi pointed out.
I exhaled slowly, the anger beginning to bleed out of me, leaving behind something heavier and quieter.
“He never said you were incompetent,” Levi added. “Sounds to me like you focused on the wrong half of the sentence.”
I rubbed a hand over my face, the stubble rasping against my palm.
“Maybe,” I admitted grudgingly.
“Chris,” Levi said, softer now, “you’ve always been hard on yourself. You hear one doubtful note and drown out the whole damn song.”
I huffed. “Maybe.”
He shrugged. “Occupational hazard of being your older brother.”
Silence settled again, but it was different this time. Less sharp. The bar’s noise washed over us, laughter and clinking glasses and the low thrum of music. After a few more drinks, the tight coil in my chest loosened.
My head felt clearer, the sting dulled to something manageable.
“I was excited,” I said quietly. “I wanted to tell him about Cooper. About Jimmie. I thought I was onto something.”
Levi nodded. “Then tell him.”
I frowned. “After this? I don’t want to sound defensive.”
“Talking things out isn’t being defensive,” Levi said. “It’s being an adult.”
I grimaced. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not,” he said. “But letting it fester is worse.”
I tipped my glass back and drained the last of the beer. “You really think I misread it?” I asked.
“I think you heard it through fear,” Levi said gently. “And fear’s a lousy translator.”
I sat with that for a moment.
“Thanks,” I said finally. “For listening.”
“Anytime,” he replied, standing and clapping a hand on my shoulder again. “Don’t let this turn sour. You’ve got something good. Don’t tear at it because you’re scared of not measuring up.”
