Page 98 of Until You

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ve been a shitty friend. The guilt—fuck, the guilt has para—” Paralyzed me. “It’s eaten a hole through me. It’s fucked me up. And how dare I feel that way when I’m here. When I’m walking. When I’m—”

“If I had to go back in that room again, I’d still want you by my side,” he says, voice even, resolute.

“Don’t.” My voice breaks.

“What is it we used to wax on about? The Force Crew?”

“Yeah. We talked about a lot of our pipe dreams. So what? What does that have to do with anything right now?”

“I think we should do it. You and me.”

“What do you mean we should do it?”

“Just what it sounds like. Let’s start it.”

“We said we’d do it when we retired.”

“If this whole ordeal proved one thing to me, it’s that you never know what happens next. You never know how much time you have. Why wait? I mean, let’s face it, technically I am retired.”

“But . . .”

“Take your medical retirement, Crew. Let’s do it. Give me something to look forward to. A piece of the old mixed with some of the new. We could both use the change of scenery.”

“Justin. Man.” His suggestion throws me. All the times he used to tell me I was full of shit. That catering and pandering to pretentious celebrities, politicians, or moguls’ spoiled heirs was beneath me. Beneath us. And yet now? Now he’s asking me to do it. Asking me to give him the lifeline he needs.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s as embarrassed by it as I am. “You’re fighting the same goddamn battle in your head that I am. The jerking awake at night. The jumping at loud sounds. The wondering if it was all fucking worth it. The department shrink telling me that it just takes time, when I feel like it’s more along the lines of a life sentence. Yeah, I’m dealing with all the same shit too, partner.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t because you were too scared to call me. To talk to me. And I get that too, but it’s me, man. I’m still the same surly fucker I was before. I haven’t changed. Well . . . that’s a lie, but you know what I mean.” He chuckles, and I’m in awe with how easily he’s handling all this when I’m still struggling with it.

It’s because he doesn’t have a choice.

“You and me, Crew. But not because you pity me. And fuck you, if you do. Do it because you need something more. Just like I want to do it because I refuse to be strapped to this chair and give up everything I used to be. I need more.”

“You’re serious.”

“As a fucking heart attack.”

“Wow. Um . . . I need to—”

“Look. Don’t answer me. Think about it. That’s all I ask.”

“I will.”

“And enjoy Tenny.”

“Wait. What?” How does he know about Tenny?

His laugh reverberates through the connection. “What can I say? The girls spill all your secrets when they text me. And since you haven’t said shit because you’re afraid you’re going to get razzed, I know it must be serious.”

“Jesus,” I mutter but secretly smile that while I was an asshole friend to him, my girls weren’t. At least I know where I’ve failed, they’ve been better than me.

“Don’t worry, though. The razzing is still coming. And, brother?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t wait so fucking long to call me next time, you asshole.”