Page 62 of The Intimacy of Control

I made my way back inside, rounding behind the bar where I was still missing quite a bit of inventory. There were an entire two shelves empty and waiting for my shipment to come in. Until they did, we had to run on limited stock, which didn’t go over well during our peak hours. People were assholes. Drunk people were often even worse assholes.

The door swung open, catching my attention. A young-looking man walked in, his head on a swivel as he took everything in. I guessed this was his first time in here. Maybe even his first time in a bar. I’d have to check his ID carefully.

Once he noticed me, his eyes narrowed, and he started walking faster. He looked angry, almost, yet I had no idea why. I stood straighter, crossing my arms over my chest, fully ready for a fight for some fucking reason.

He stopped in front of the bar counter with a scowl. I nodded up at him. “Can I help you?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “My brother is crying.”

“Huh?” I looked behind him, scouring the empty bar for someone I’d missed.

“Not here, dumbass. He’s at our Mamá’s house sobbing his fucking eyes out. I’ve never seen my brother cry before.”

Their…Mamá’s house. Realization slowly started to trickle in. “Hold on⁠—”

“No, don’t tell me to hold on. I know he cries. I’ve heard him cry. But always in another room because he refused, fucking refused to let me see it. He’s always been strong. He’s always been happy. Forrest never cries, but now he can’t stop, and it’s all your fucking fault. It’s all because of you.”

Forrest was crying? Because of me? I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure if I could say anything. Nothing I said would’ve mattered, would it? “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, rich. Very rich.” I could see the resemblance between him and Forrest. They both had the same crease between their eyebrows when they felt something strongly. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. You broke my big brother’s heart. He tried so hard for you, Jack. He tried so goddamn hard. He’s the happiest, most hopelessly romantic guy I’ve ever met, and you’ve made him sad. You’ve hurt him. And you don’t look nearly as fucked up as he does, so obviously you don’t care enough, do you?”

I tried to say something, but he was already interrupting me.

“Are you scared? Is that it? Mamá thinks you are, and I told Forrest I think you are, too, but I actually think you’re just a fucking asshole. If you are scared, Jack”—he leaned in closer—”get the fuck over yourself and go back to the one fucking man who hasn’t stopped talking about you since you met. Go back to the man who said you were the one. Go back to him and either get over your fear or tell him to his fucking face why you’re too fucking scared to continue. My brother deserves the entire world. If you can’t give him that, then the least you can do is give him closure.”

Every word he’d said had made its way past the protective layer around my heart. The very bone marrow in the ribs surrounding it vibrated with this uncontrollable, sick fucking pain that I didn’t want. That I didn’t deserve. But there was one thing… One small piece that threatened to split me all the way open.

I felt myself lean forward a bit without even meaning to. I was unsteady on my feet, and I was afraid I’d fall. “He… He said I was the one?” My voice came out shaky and broken, just like Forrest’s heart must’ve been.

It took him a second to respond, his eyes flicking over my face. “Yeah. He said he thought you were the one, and I was the one who told him it seemed kind of early for that. That didn’t matter to him, though. He said he knew. He could feel it, so he wasn’t going to give up on you.” He shrugged. “He didn’t. But you did. Why the fuck did you tell him you wanted to be with him if you were going to turn around and rip his heart out of his chest?”

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. I’d fucked up. I’d fucked up. I’d fucked up so badly that his little brother was here, yelling at me. His little brother was so concerned and so upset that he’d somehow found me and was making sure I knew exactly how badly I’d fucked up.

Forrest said I was the one.

Forrest had thought I was it for him.

Forrest had thought I was worthy of being it for him.

Bubbles formed in my chest and throat as thick, black, murky water started to fill the cavity where my heart was supposed to be. Where had it gone? I’d just felt it a moment ago. It was just here. It was just hurting.

Now it was gone, and I wasn’t sure what all had gone with it. My sanity, maybe?

I was struggling. Struggling to breathe, struggling to fight my way to the surface, struggling with the idea that I was probably going to die soon. All I had to do was open my mouth again, take in as much water instead of air as possible, and let myself…drown.

I was drowning all over again.

I glanced back up to him, my hands shaking so much I was sure I’d lose my grip on the bar counter and fall back into the depths. “I am scared. I’m so fucking scared. I’m so, so unbelievably scared.” He started looking blurrier by the second, right along with what I knew to be my bar. I couldn’t really see anything anymore. Water started to fall down my cheeks, some landing on my top lip. I licked across it, tasting the ocean in them. As my chest started to burn and my lungs started to scream, I realized I wasn’t going to make it to the three-minute and thirty-two-second mark. “I-I don’t wanna die.”

Not only had the words surprised me, they’d confused him. It would’ve been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that I actively felt like I was dying. “What?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t want to what?”

Shaking my head, I started to move backward, only stopping when my back hit the same cabinet Forrest had fallen against. “N-nothing. Nothing. I need to go.”

I was turning around to run when he called out for me. “Are you running to my brother, or are you running away?”

I was getting out of the suffocating, deadly ocean, but he couldn’t understand that, could he? “I don’t know. I don’t know yet. I want to go to him. I want to. I just… I don’t know how. Not yet.”

“For your sake, you better figure out how to face your fear by tomorrow morning. If you aren’t at his front door by then, I’ll come find you myself, and you won’t like what I have to say. Prove to me you’re not a coward. Prove to Forrest that either you’re a better man than you’re acting right now or that there’s a better person out there waiting for him. Got that?”