Was she afraid that she would give away her crush on Than? Ruin their friendship. If she talked about her art, would that be the way she slipped up? All those sketches showed how much she loved him…from a distance, and he mourned for their loss. All that time wasted. He was sure they would have weathered that storm just fine. It made him angry for the first time since he faced Hollis across the witness stand. It was a new anger, different, more personal, more painful. It wasn’t directed at Hollis anymore. It was directed at the universe, at themselves for being blind. At Mei for fucking dying and leaving them with this damn unresolved grief. The question opened up new layers of pain. He’d give anything to go back and do it differently.
“Spot here!” Than grunted.
Fly snapped out of his thoughts and grabbed the bar. “Sorry, I was distracted.”
“By what?” Than sat up. He was looking gaunt, and Fly was wondering who he’d see if he looked in the mirror.
“By a question Shawl asked me.”
Than’s jaw tightened, but for a fraction of a second, something flickered in his eyes before the anger slammed back into place. “That’s a trap.” He turned his back on Fly, a dismissive gesture that felt anything but. He chalked his hands with sharp, aggressive strokes, the powder dusting the dark bar like frost. “Of course it’s a trap. That’s what guys like him do. They twist things until you don’t know what’s yours anymore.” He wasn't looking at Fly. He was looking at his own reflection in the mirror, a man he no longer recognized, trying to convince himself as much as Fly.
“Than, this is enough for today. We’re overtraining and it needs to stop.”
Than scoffed. “Let me guess. He asked you something off the subject.”
He jumped for the bar anyway. Fly sighed.
“Yeah,” he said. “At first.”
“And then he hit you with the kicker.”
Than hauled himself through thirty pull-ups, muscles flexing, breath harsh. He dropped from the bar and wiped his face with a towel. “You’re not going to let this go until you tell me what it was, are you?”
Fly watched him too closely. The edge in Than’s voice was more than anger. It was defense. His gut tightened. He hated this part. The suspicion. The walls. The way grief turned people into strangers.
Fly drew a breath. The words felt like broken glass in his throat, but he’d been carrying them too long to keep swallowing them. “Do you think Mei would blame me?” The silence that followed was a vacuum, sucking the air out of the room. Than froze.
Startled, stricken. Like Fly had reached into his chest and clenched. The color drained from his face. The hand holding the towel trembled, just barely.
“How the fuck would I know?” Than snapped. “You’re buying into his head games.”
“Why is it a head game if it’s real?” Fly asked. His voice stayed level, but something in him was starting to splinter.
Than shook his head, sharp and furious. “You don’t get to do this. Mei is dead. She’s dead, Fly. She doesn’t get to answer questions.”
“I know,” Fly said quietly. “That’s why I’m asking you.”
Than rounded on him. “You don’t get to drag me into this.”
Fly just stood there and let it hit him.
“This isn’t about Shawl,” he said. His voice cracked despite himself. “This is something I’ve been carrying. I can’t ask her. I don’t get that. So I’m asking you.”
For a moment, Than looked like he might explode again.
Instead, he collapsed.
He sank onto the nearest bench, shoulders caving, anger draining out of him and leaving something raw and unbearable in its place. He scrubbed a hand over his face and squeezed his eyes shut.
“I had a week with her,” he said hoarsely. The word week broke him. “Seven days. That’s all. I didn’t know her, not really. I just knew how much I wanted her in my life.” His throat worked. “That’s all I’ve got, and I don’t even know if it was enough.” He looked up then, eyes bright with tears he refused to let fall. “So don’t ask me,” he said. “Don’t ask me to speak for her.” Than grabbed his gym bag. “I’ll get a ride-share home.” He walked out.
Fly stayed where he was. The question was still there, unanswered, echoing in his chest. Now he understood something he hadn’t wanted to admit before.
This was a weight he was going to have to carry alone.
That night Fly got into bed. Than spent his time outside, first grooming and feeding the horses, then he was quiet when he took his food to his room. Bear and Bailee exchanged worried looks, and Fly was incensed at what he was doing to his big brother.
But how could he tell Than how to feel? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t want anyone to tell him how to feel. It was an uncomfortable situation, and for the first time in his life, Fly wasn’t sure how to fix it.
