“Dude, he’s a criminal. Come on,” Daniel scoffs, like we’re all idiots.
I think of Rafe telling me how scared he was when he got out of prison that no one would ever want him. That no one would give him a chance because of their stereotypes and fears about people who’d been in prison.
“Well, you weren’t here to make other arrangements,” I tell Daniel. “So we took care of it. If you’re too good to go to the funeral because you don’t approve of Vic, then that’s your fucking business.” The words come out like knives.
“Of course I’m going to the funeral. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing,” Sam says. “It’s taken care of. It’ll be a graveside service. Luther called people for us, but some of Pop’s friends can’t make it, so we decided we’d have a party at the shop the next day. You know, a wake or whatever.”
“Okay,” Daniel says. “Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And now he’s just going to walk out the door. With the way Rex is looking at him, Daniel is probably in for a peaceful night of sweet cuddling or passionate sex—whichever he wants. Because Daniel always gets what he wants. It’s always been that way. He was the baby. Mom doted on him. Pop protected him like he never did me. And Daniel never gave a crap. He did whatever he wanted and damn the consequences.
“Not like you ever gave a shit about him anyway,” I mutter.
“You know that’s not fucking true, Colin,” he says, his voice shaky. “I just didn’t have that much in common with him.”
At the first sign that Daniel’s upset, Rex steps closer to him and puts his hand at the small of Daniel’s back. Daniel leans into him for support, and my stomach clenches with that poisonous mix of fury and envy.
“I’m sorry,” Brian says to Rex, clearly way behind in the conversation, “but who the fuck are you?”
I stand up to face Daniel. He’s the same height as me but he’s built much slimmer. Daniel has that look on his face that I know so well. That vulnerable look that says, This is how you hurt me. Go ahead, it’s easy. And I want to punish him for being so weak. So easy to hurt. For being such easy prey that he turns me into a predator by default.
“Well, yeah,” I say. “What would Pop have in common with a stuck-up little faggot? He looked out for you and you didn’t even care enough to stick around.”
Sam says my name in warning, but I know he won’t step in. He never does. Never wants to get his hands dirty.
I’m like a heat-seeking missile trained on the tremble in Daniel’s lip that means he’s about to cry and the way he lowers his dark lashes over green eyes filled with hurt. I may be drunk but I could take Daniel drunk and one-handed. He’s a good fighter. Hell, he should be. I taught him. But his face is so easy to read that I can always tell when he’s going to strike. He’d probably do fine if he were fighting someone who didn’t know him, but he has no chance against me.
“What the fuck, Colin!” he yells. It’s the same thing he used to say when he was a teenager. He doesn’t even hit me. He shoves me, which he knows is a surefire way to get his ass kicked. He probably doesn’t want to actually fight, just look tough in front of Rex. Though I don’t know why he’s bothering since Rex looks like he wants to wrap Daniel up in cotton and put him in a box like a Christmas ornament so nothing bad can touch him.
I grab Daniel by the shirt and shove him into the far wall, figuring on a hit from Rex. But, though Rex is there in a heartbeat, he just pulls me off.
“Don’t. Fucking. Touch him.” Rex’s voice sends shivers through me. For a moment we lock eyes and his expression changes. Softens. Like he’s looked inside me, seen me for the monster I am, and instead of scorn, feels only pity.
“Um,” Brian interjects, “so, who are you?”
“Rex.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” Daniel says, and the word burrows into my chest, feeding on the ache there. I can’t take it. I can’t watch them together for one second longer.
“Well, I guess it’s obvious who the girl is, Danielle,” I say, and I don’t know why exactly I’m so set on provoking him.
Sam and I saw some stupid movie when we were kids where all the boys get turned into girls when a magic spell goes awry and, for a few months, thought it was hysterical to call each other girl versions of our names. Sam was Samantha, I was Colleen, Brian was Brianna, and Daniel was Danielle.
Pop did not think it was funny. And later, after Daniel told us he was gay, Brian started calling him Danielle again. Not even really to be mean. More… immature. But when Pop heard him do it, he was furious. He slapped Brian in the face and told him never to call Daniel that again.