Page 152 of Heart So Hollow

She’s got a point. Colson Lutz—a pothole in brand-new pavement—here to wreck shit.

“I liked what he did,” I speak slowly and carefully, “But I don’t like that he picked now to do it. And I’m sorry for what happened to his sister, or whatever, but…” I trail off, forgetting where I’m going with this.

Barrett casts me a faint smile, “Are you aware of how much emotional labor you do for this guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“Years ago, you accepted him for all his flaws—and believe me, they’re major flaws—and now, after trying to move on with your life after his…episode, he shows up out of nowhere and you give him a lot of leeway with tamping down your emotions, acting like everything is normal at work, giving him a chance to be a normal person when he finally does speak to you, and now you’re stressing about what you should do to maintain the status quo after he has the audacity to throw a wrench in everything and do this. That’s pretty manipulative of him, don’t you think?”

“Which part?”

Barrett sets down her drink, “All of it! I’m talking about how he only says or does things he knows will upset you when you literally can’t walk away. Like all that stuff he told you in the car, how he chose to chronicle his entire stalking history while he was balls-deep inside you, and then doing whatever the hell that was in your office today.”

“He’s totally manipulative. And what the hell kind of basis is that for any relationship?” I sit back in my chair, twisting my beige hair tie through my fingers, “You know what’s funny? Sometimes I think Bowen and Colson are the same person.”

“Really?” Barrett scrunches up her face, “How?”

“Tangible things like how they both have one sister—now, at least—they both carry guns every day for work, which is maddening, they’re both surly, tatted up, and they both even used to street race.”

Barrett gives a laugh, “I think that just means you have a type.”

“But it’s other things, too,” I continue, “they have the same mannerisms and talk in similar terms, with this decisiveness and hyper loyalty that borders on possessiveness. And it seems like they’re both constantly one step ahead of everyone, like they both live or die by anticipating and planning their next move.”

“OK, well that is fucking weird,” Barrett shrugs, “but after you’ve explained everything, it makes total sense why you’re with Bowen,” Barrett ponders while gazing into the fading sunlight, “you found all the qualities you liked in Colson when you met Bowen. Except Bowen does it better. He’s just unhinged enough not to be boring, but he’s also stable with a career, a house, and a dog on 50 acres he wants to share with you. He buys you a car, he’s supportive of your writing, and he embodies everything you wanted in Colson, except he doesn’t have a history of stalking and hasn’t tried to murder you. And that’s why when Bowen asked you to marry him after only a few months, you said yes because you found a better, socially acceptable version of Colson.”

Her observations hit me like a freight train. I always had the feeling, but I didn’t realize I was on a subconscious search for the uncanny characteristics that embody Colson Lutz.

“You’re right. You’re right about all of it. But here’s the thing,” I hesitate for a moment, deciding whether to even elaborate, “Colson’s honest to a fault.”

“Honest-ish,” Barrett echoes into her wine glass.

“He says and does whatever he’s thinking, even if it’s incredibly inappropriate or downright creepy. Bowen doesn’t do anything like that, but—” I pause and then think better of it, “nothing.”

“It’s never nothing, it’s always something,” Barrett chirps.

I’ve heard these words come out of her mouth more times than I care to admit, usually when I’m trying to avoid a difficult conversation.

“Colson might not come right out and say he’s fucking with me, but he also doesn’t try to hide it. But with Bowen, I feel like there are still parts of him that I don’t know.”

“Like what?”

“That shit with Hannah,” I say immediately, “you heard her at the Rickhouse. I don’t know what her fixation is with him, but it has something to do with their friend, Evie, that was murdered in high school. Then Hannah shows up at Jay’s birthday with these weird bruises while actively avoiding Bowen, and when Hildy tells me about Evie—”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Barrett waves her hand across the table, “Hannah showed up with bruises and acted afraid of Bowen?”

I hesitate, realizing exactly how it sounds. And if it sounds the same way to Barrett, then maybe I’m not misinterpreting things, after all.

I nod, “When I asked Hannah about them, she said something like, you’ve made your point, and then told me to leave her alone. Like I sicced him on her or something.”

Barrett is silent for a few moments, “OK, go ahead.” But I know she won’t let this go; she’s filed it away to marinate on for a while.

“Anyway, Hildy told me she doesn’t even know how Evie died. But she has to, because Bowen told me. It’s like they’re all telling different stories about the same thing. I don’t know,” I shake my head, “it’s just a weird vibe.”

“Like you’re an outsider in their shared trauma?” Barrett guesses.

I shoot her a grin, “You would know all about that.”

“Geez, Brett,” she laughs, “when did you become such a trauma sponge? But seriously, do you ever wonder—” Barrett tips her head up and gazes off into the distance, “if you’re so comfortable with Colson, even when he pulls shit like this, because you and he share trauma? Think about it—his sister died, he has PTSD, he forms a super unhealthy attachment to you, he has some violent, semi-conscious event, assaults you, and now you’re part of his story. What if you’ve normalized his behavior now because you want to believe he can still be a normal part of your life?”

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