“Au contraire, mon frère,” Cody singsongs. The kid really does have the most punchable face. “You’ve got your head so far upyour ass, the only view is the one where you have to be the man. The guy everybody relies on.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Oh, it’s great for the rest of us.” He grabs the back of a chair, spins it around, then drops onto the seat and kicks his legs out. “But it sucks donkey dicks for you.”
“Jesus, Cody. Nobody’s sucking—” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Never mind.”
“What if Sloane doesn’t need saving?”
My hand drops, then fists at my side. “For Christ’s sake, I know she doesn’t. She made it loud and clear.”
“And that kills you, right?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
If Cody had one speck of a self-preservation instinct, he’d know by my tone that this has gone too far. But he doesn’t flinch or flash his usual shit-eating grin, which is how I know I’m not going to like what comes next.
“It means that if you can’t be someone’s hero, you don’t want to be their anything.”
The words are a punch I didn’t see coming, and I practically double over from the force of my breath whooshing out of my lungs.
“You make me sound like an asshole,” I manage.
“Just an idiot,” Cody says conversationally. “Who doesn’t always do the right thing or make the right choice.”
I glance toward the sound booth, and my reflection stares back at me from the dark glass—unshaven and more than a little haggard, with dark circles under my eyes and my hair standing up in all directions. I look like a man who’s losing a fight he never had a chance of winning.
“This isn’t an act,” I tell him, way beyond trying to hide the raw pain in my voice. “You should understand that, Cody. It’s the only thing I know how to do.”
“The old dog needs to learn some new tricks if you want to win your girl.”
Win your girl.Like it’s that straightforward. Like I could just walk up to Sloane and sayI’m not here to rescue you, I’m here because I can’t figure out how to breathe right when you’re not around,and she’d believe me.
Except… is it possible that’s been the answer this whole time? I’ve been too busy trying to earn her affection with usefulness to consider that she never wanted useful. She just wanted me to be there.
But I don’t know how to justbe therefor someone without taking on the responsibility for whether they’re okay. When my mother got sick, I handled doctor appointments and medication schedules and figured out the exact angle she needed her pillows stacked to sleep without pain. After she died, I turned that same attention toward Jamie and the artists who needed me. Toward Cody, volunteering, and anyone who wandered into my orbit and needed help.
Because as long as I was needed, I mattered.
“Stop with the ‘old’ bullshit,” I choke out instead of admitting he might have just made a valid point. He’s already too smug.
He raises a brow.
“She took care of me on the trail,” I say as if that changes anything.
“But that was okay because it was temporary.”
He’s right again.Fuck. I accepted her care—not that I was in any shape to deny it—because I knew when we came down off the mountain, I’d go back to being the me who holds everything together. I could handle a brief respite, letting someone else carry part of the load, as long as it was temporary.
But exposing myself as a man who regularly gets scared and screws up and doesn’t have the answers is a leap I can’t make.
Notcan’t.Haven’t.
“This is who I am,” I say numbly.
“You’re not a statue, Jensen. People—even elderlies—have the ability to change.” Cody places his elbows on the back of the chair and cradles his face in his hands, looking every bit of twelve years old. Great, I’m taking life and love advice from a child. “Unless you’d rather sit alone in a dark studio playing the saddest melody ever written because that’s easier than admitting you don’t have all your shit together.”
“It’s more complicated.”
