Page 59 of Forget Me Not

Cooper

God, what is wrong with me?! This is Gun.Gun.

And that’s what’s wrong with me. It’s him. And no matter how I twist and turn the conversation I have to have with him, I don’t see it ending well. Because, even in the best-case scenario, incidentally the most selfish version I’ve come up with, he tells me the house was a great investment and a matter of practicality rather than the romantic gesture Ed made it out to be. He’ll tell me all the years we’ve spent together were a means to an end. A love that grew from comfort and obligation. And then, I’ll be free. Because I’ll hate him. I’llhateGun.

The click of the door handle pushing down and opening, catches my attention and I start walking to the foyer to meet him. I stop dead in my tracks the second I see him.

His usually confident stature is hunched over, both arms hanging listless at his side. His skin is unnaturally grey and dull. Dark eyes are caved into their sockets and his usual five o’clock shadow looks a lot more like mountain man than rugged artist. In short, he looks like shit.

“I’m here,” he grunts. “Wanna tell me what this is about now?”

“You’re here,” I counter dryly, “so, you already know.”

He releases a long, frustrated hiss of air. “You’re pissed about the house.”

“No. I’m pissed you tricked me into picking this house after I told you we didn’t want to work with you. I’m pissed that you always try and control everything about my life and mostly, I’m pissed that you’re so fucking sneaky about it!” I rant, my voice reaching far and beyond any level of volume it’s ever achieved before.

Then, it’s his turn. And. He. Blows. Up.

“Sneaky? Are you fucking kidding me?” He gets in my face, arms up in the air, like he’s a fucking volcano erupting right in front of me. “I wasn’t sneaky about shit. All of my info was right there on that lease, which YOU signed! I didn’t trick anyone into anything. I had a house I was never going to live in, so I put it up for rent on a public fucking site. I didn’t hand deliver the listing to your boyfriend. I didn’t whisper the listing into his ear at night while he slept. I didn’t hold a gun to his head! Reed found it all on his own. Excuse me for knowing your boyfriend was so fucking predictable.” He turns away nearly as abruptly as he flew up to meet me at eye level before. “You think I manipulate you? I don’t. I’ve spent most of my life trying to do whatever I can to make you happy. I’m good at it. Not because I’m a raging control freak manipulating your life. Because Iknowyou. I fuckingseeyou. You want to punish me for getting too close to you over the years? For being able to give you what you want but not being the person you want it from? Done. You’ve got that. Want to hate me because I can’t stop? Because the guilt is killing you? Because you can’t fucking love me back? Do it. I don’t want you to feel trapped by this mess between us. I don’t want this to be the thing that stops you from being happy. Just do what you have to do to let go and get on with it.”

“Stop it!” I scream. “Just stop!”

His grey skin pales another shade. He shakes his head, mouth pressed firmly together, skin taut and flickering above is jaw. “Don’t you fucking get it yet?” he whispers, “I can’t.”

“Why?” I demand. “Why can’t you do it? Why is it so important to see me happy? Because of that little girl in the closet? Well, fuck you! Guilt isn’t the same as love, Gunnar. You can’t spend the rest of your life trying to make up for what happened to me. It wasn’t your job to save me then, it’s definitely not your job to save me now. I knew how to survive long before you ever came along. I spent months in that shithole,months! And you know what I thought when I first saw you? Not, ‘Ooh, thank GOD - my HERO!’ No, I thought, ‘It’s okay. I’ve made it this long and I can take care of him, too’.”

His pupils seem to take over as pitch black fills his eyes and he refuses to answer.

I wait, silently forcing the seconds to stretch into minutes so I can claim my victory. A hollow, won by submission, victory. It won’t mean squat to me tomorrow, but it’ll help me walk out of here tonight.

Just as I’m about to announce my exit, the door handle clicks again. And Reed walks in.

“What’s going on? What are you doing here with him?” The accusation is hardly hidden in his tone. “You know what, never mind that. I’m actually glad you’re both here. Saves me the trouble of having to figure out how to track you down.” He points at Gun. And my stomach sinks down to my ankles. Gun and I going at it is one thing. Reed attacking Gun is another entirely.

“Not that hard to find, man,” Gun sneers, “and I’ve got no reason to hide.”

Reed smirks smugly. “That so? I think that might change when I tell Cooper what I found out today.”

“What?” I feel like I’m caught at the center of a game of Keep Away standing here between them. I’ve always hated that game. “What are you talking about? What did you find out?” If he’s implying he’s uncovered some deep dark secret of Gun’s, he’s likely to be disappointed. Gun may not wear his emotions on his sleeve for the world to see, but he’s never been one to shy away from taking responsibility and owning his mistakes.

Reed nods in Gun’s direction. “You want to tell her? Or should I?”

Gun glares at him. “You sure you want to go there, Reed?”

“After everything you’ve done to come between us? Hell, yes. I think it’s high time Cooper knows exactly the sort offriendyou’ve been to her.”

Panic begins to funnel at the pit of my stomach. I turn back to look at Gun, scared of what I’ll find. But as always, he’s dead calm in the face of this impending storm. “Cooper knows the sort of friend I’ve been. Trust me. The secrets I’ve kept, were never aboutprotecting me.”

Chapter Seventeen

Gun

7Years Earlier

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Iwalk in expecting to find Larry Lipton, my sad and pathetic excuse for a lawyer who hates me only slightly less than he loathes himself, and I stop short. Larry is as wide as he is tall, with more hair on his chin than on his head. This dude, this tall, broad shouldered dude with slicked back blond hair, is definitely not Larry. He’s also definitely not a public defender, since his suit looks like it costs more than I’m sure Sad Larry makes all year.

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