Page 41 of Even in the Dark

Harder to duck and evade now he’s playing it straight. So maybe just get this over with, yeah? Rip off the Band-Aid and see what I’m dealing with. If he shows me his worst, right here, tonight, then I’ve got a baseline going forward, at least. Whatever it is, I know I can take it.

Let’s fucking do this.

“Oh.” I smirk. “Thathole.” Sneer like a jackass to piss him off. Get it over with faster.

Only he doesn’t take the bait. “Thank you,” he says. “For owning up to it. I appreciate it.”

He’sthankingme?

This man is messing with my head in a totally different way than Eli did. Played lots of games over the years, him and I, but we never played this one. I have no clue how it ends, and I figure that must be part of Philip Braun’s twisted kind of power trip.All that talk about walking away and “don’t get violent” makes him the type who gets off on head games, maybe. Probably fakes you out ‘till you’re fooled into thinking everything’s cool, then strikes.

Fine. I can wait him out.

“It takes a lot of anger to do something like that,” he says, still with the calm voice. “There’s a lot of emotion behind a punch that busts through plaster.”

“Took more than one punch to bust through,” I clarify. Might as well keep pushing him with the attitude.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a sad smile. “Well, I would think it takes even more anger then, to punch something over and over.”

He isn’t wrong.

“What was going through your head?” His eyes fix on mine. “For you to do something like that?”

I stare back in silence. Don’t look away, but don’t engage either. Hell of a loaded question.

“Please, Dylan…” He takes a step closer. “Talk to me. Just… Tell me what hurt you or angered you so much you felt compelled to punch a wall.”

I push my hands in my pockets. Raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing on my lips. Throwing the question back at him without saying a word. But he doesn’t get it, so I say it out loud. “What’ll it take to angeryouenough to throw a punch, old man?”

It works. His body eases back. Arm lifts…

My own whips up just as fast to block him.

And he freezes, hand hovering, eyes suddenly wide. An entire reel plays out on their surface in the next three seconds. Shock, then confusion… Then hurt.

“I wasn’t…” He looks at his hand, then my shoulder. Then slowly drops his hand.

Shit. He was going to put his hand on my shoulder.

His breathing is shaky when he looks back at me, and it takes all my willpower not to shrink back.I’m so fucking embarrassed.

“I wasn’t going to hit you, Dylan…” He swallows. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

I wish he would stop talking. Bad enough it happened. Now he’s gonna acknowledge it out loud that he saw that side of me. Makes me look weak. Like the pussy Eli always accused me of being. More of a freak than Phil already sees me as.

“If there’s one thing I need you to hear from me, son, that’s it. I would never do anything to hurt you,” he repeats.

I nod. Stare at the waves in the distance over his shoulder. Can’t look him in the eye right now.

But he’s insistent. Gonna wait me out ’til I do. Until I acknowledge what he just said. And it only makes me feel weaker.

Change of tactic.

“Sure about that?” I say. And I have no problem looking him in the eye when I finish, “’Cause it kinda hurt being left with a deranged psycho for fourteen years.”

The hit lands hard and right where I wanted it to. Tables have turned, and he’s the weak one now. Ashamed and exposed. Only, I feel ashamed too, because it was a dick move.

Better for him to think I’m a dick than think I’m weak, though. Also, truth is, it felt good to say those words. Like there was weight to them that’s a relief to be rid of.

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