Page 48 of Embers Glow After the Fire

“You’re hurting me.” Brendon pulls his arm back.

“Sorry.” He doesn't mean it, but releases him anyway,

Brendon knots his arms around his body, bracing the contents his belly from climbing up his throat. The light from his phone clutched in his fingers strobes the back of Christian’s head as they trudge down the hill. He leads them past the beach and along the path toward the clearing. He hadn’t been imagining him at the fireworks. He’d been there stalking him the whole time. How long has he been watching? Does he know about Matthew?

Twigs snap under Christian’s stomp and the shallow waterfall signals they’ve reached the end of the lake.

“What do you want to talk about?” Brendon breaks the tense silence between them.

Christian stops. “I want to fix things.” He almost sounds sincere.

“I don’t think that’s possible—and you know it.” Brendon confirms.

“Of course it is—we can get a counselor.”

“You think they're bullshit.” Brendon reminds him. “We already tried that. You quit after the second session.”

“That guy was an idiot.”

“Because he called you out?” Brendon regrets the words as soon as they fall past his lips.

Christian pinches the bridge of his nose.

Brendon contemplates making a run for it, but he's no match for the former high school footballer who still spends two hours every day sprinting full pace on a treadmill.

"Maybe you're right." His admittance is surprising but convenient.

"I want a divorce, Christian. I don't need anything else from you. I think we end it now."

"No." He grits his teeth. There he is.

"What are you hanging on to?" Brendon steps back, nearly stumbling over a rock.

"You're my husband."

Brendon chucks away the sting of his words. "I don't even know why anymore."

Christian's forehead caves and his eyes soften.

Brendon looks to the ground to avoid feeling sympathy. He can't help himself. There was once love for this man and its remnants still haunt him.

"There's a charter plane in Augusta, waiting at the airport for us."

"I told you. I'm not going."

"Yes, you are Brendon."

"How long have you been here?" He interrogates.

"Long enough—" Christian's face turns. "To see you whoring about."

Brendon's cheeks burn.

"You let that fat fuck touch you?"

Brendon fumes. "You're fucking half of Houston," he bites back.

"You're delusional." Christian gaslights.

---