Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“I—”
“Or I could have a pizza delivered.”
He growled at me. “I’ll bring you some food.”
“Thank you.”
He went to the door but didn’t leave, just stood there with his hand on the knob.
“Go already,” I teased him, because if I didn’t, I’d beg him to stay. Every time he left me to do something with Hayden hurt like gargling glass.
He didn’t move.
“Bodhi?”
Quick breath. “Hayden told me today that having us be partners again has been weird for him, and he’s not sure he can get used to it.”
“What does that mean?”
“He said we needed to have a discussion.”
A discussion? “About what? It is what it is,” I said defensively.
“Is it?”
I squinted at him. “The fuck does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered. He started pacing, walking to the door of the bathroom, then quickly swiveling around. “I’ve never seen him—I mean, I think he was mad, but I can’t tell.”
“You can’t tell if he’s mad?”
He shook his head as he walked by the bed, the pacing continuing.
“Why can’t you tell when he’s mad?”
“Because he’s never been mad.”
That didn’t make any sense. “No way. You do a hundred things a day that make me want to murder you. How can he not get mad?”
“I know,” he admitted, arms thrown up in the air, “and it’s the same for me. I’m homicidally angry at you at least ten times in a normal day.”
“And you’re a yeller,” I reminded him.
“So are you,” he shot back.
I gave him a head tip in agreement. “But you’re saying, he’s never raised his voice to you? Ever?”
Another shake of his head.
“Then how the fuck do you know if he really loves you?”
He stopped to stare at me. “Most people in love don’t yell.”
“That’s a lie.”
“No, it’s true. You’re just broken.”
“I’ve been telling you that for years.”
His growl was loud. “You’re not broken, you idiot.”
“You just said I was.”
“Fuck all this,” he yelled, fisting his hands as he kept pacing. “I’m so fuckin’ pissed at you.”
“Me? Why’re you mad at me?”
“Because this is all your fault!”
“What’s all my fault?”
“Everything. All of it.”
“What’re you talk—”
“I’ve been so twisted up that I talked myself into thinking I could be in this. I could be fine and good and happy with letting my life play out with no ups, no downs, just safe and steady and simple. Everything could just be easy for once.”
I stared at him, watching him continue to pace.
“I mean, why not? Why would anyone want to live in a fuckin’ tornado if they didn’t have to? It’s insane.”
“So not following.”
He ignored me. “But see, somewhere along the line, when no one was looking, I slipped into the eye where it’s stable, and now watching things whirl by makes sense.”
“You lost me.”
“No, I only thought I did.”
“What?”
He glared at me like I was an idiot.
I huffed out a breath. “Fine. May I take a stab at what you’re saying?”
“Go ahead.”
“Here’s what happened, without your whole twister-whatever metaphor,” I told him, shooting him a look. “When you and Hayden met, we weren’t partners at the moment, we weren’t roommates anymore, and we weren’t hanging out all the time. He got you, but he had no me.”
“Yes,” he concurred. “That’s exactly right.”
“And everybody knows, if you don’t get me, with you, then it’s not the real you.”
He stopped walking and looked at me. “That’s true, isn’t it?”
“And Jesus Christ, if you’re not yelling at him, how does he know you care?”
“Right?”
“You just hafta tell him you didn’t mean to fool him or anything, but this is how it really is. This is the Callahan and Redeker show in its full glory,” I said playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “But it’s only because we’re in the same place at the moment. It won’t stay like this. We’ll still be partners, which will keep me from going nuts, but he’ll have you at night and on the weekends and—”
Crossing the room to me, he stood near the end of the bed. “What do you mean, that will keep you from going nuts?”
Shit. “I just meant that, you know, I’ll miss you being with me all the time and—”
“Miro thinks you have regrets. Do you have regrets?”
Fucking Miro. “When did you talk to Miro?”
“Today. He wanted to know how you were feeling.”
“Because he wants to make sure I’ll be ready to be his minion next—”
“Answer me, Jed,” he said flatly, brows furrowed, eyes darkening. “Do you have regrets?”
The right thing to say was no. The right thing, for his long-term happiness, was to tell him that I had no regrets and that I couldn’t wait to dance at his wedding.
“Be honest,” he ordered me.
And I would be. “I want you to be happy.”
“Oh yes, I know. You’ve sung this same song for the entirety of our partnership,” he said snidely, glaring at me.
Normally, when he was a sarcastic ass like that, it got my hackles up and I said something shitty back, and that fast we’d be fighting. It was how it went every single time.