“Yeah, I mean, not the broken-ankle part obviously, but he’s been such a good sport with helping me out. And he’s a naturally serious guy, but he has this dry humor that sneaks up on you. And he’s so competent at everything he does, even when everything involves wrangling toddlers while in a dinosaur costume. He moved all my mugs to a lower shelf without saying anything because he noticed me nearly falling off my crutches reaching for them. Who does that?”
“You’re gushing,” Jaymee says.
“I’m not gushing. I’m providing relevant context for the problem at hand.”
It occurs to me that this is more than I’ve told Jaymee about how I feel about anyone. Since we’ve met, our friendship has run on a specific frequency—light, funny, no deep dives. I keep most of my friendships at that frequency because it’s simpler.
Jaymee’s still staring at me with the expression of someone who’s just watched a nature documentary, where the prey walks directly into the predator’s mouth.
“Do you find Leo attractive?”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve seen him, right? Is it possible to find the guy unattractive? He’s gorgeous.”
“Then I’m not seeing the problem,” Jaymee says as she moves to start refilling the cat treat jar on the counter. “You like the guy. Just make a move and see if he’s interested.”
A cockatiel in the corner chooses this moment to let out an ear-splitting screech, which feels like an appropriate soundtrack to my emotional crisis.
“It’s not as simple as that,” I moan, running my hand through my hair.
“Why not?”
“Because he obviously has major issues with my brother. And he doesn’t know that I know that. And…” I trail off.
“And what?”
How can I phrase what is bothering me deep down?
I thought getting a bit of payback would be fun. But as I get to know Leo, it’s turning uncomfortable.
And part of me is scared of what Leo might tell me about Vaughn if I put him on the spot and ask him.
I know Leo well enough now to know he’s not a petty guy. So if he wanted to get revenge on Vaughn, Vaughn must have done something terrible.
And part of me really doesn’t want to know what Vaughn did.
Because I’m fairly sure that whatever Vaughn did to Leo is ultimately my fault.
“Why don’t you just ask your brother what happened with Leo so you know the deal?” Billy asks, leaning against a stack of dog food bags.
His innocent question creates a hollow feeling in my chest.
“I don’t talk to my brother,” I say.
Billy’s forehead crinkles. “Why not?”
Just a simple question. If only it had a simple answer.
“It’s complicated,” I say. It seems to be my default answer right now.
Billy lets me get away with that answer. I get the feeling that Billy does everything in his life to avoid complicated.
Jaymee doesn’t though.
“So if you don’t speak to your brother, what’s to stop you just telling Leo that you know about him deliberately causing your accident and that you’re not holding it against him, and see where things go from there?”
She makes it sound so simple.
“Because then he’ll ask questions about my family, and I don’t want to have that conversation with anyone.”
