Chapter 20: Dean's Fear

I got out of the pool, wrapped a towel around myself, and ran across the wet grass in bare feet.

Dean had the duffel bag in the bed of his truck and was reaching for the tailgate.

"Where are you going?" I said.

"Home."

"It's one in the morning."

"I drive at night all the time."

"Dean."

He slammed the tailgate shut and turned around.

His face was blotchy in the glow from the porch light, and his jaw was working.

"I'm not mad," he said. "Don't do the voice."

"What voice?"

"The soft one. The one you use on Gabe."

"I'm not using a voice. You just said it was the best night of your life and walked off."

"Because it was." His breath shook. "And I'm not stupid, Cal. I can see how this goes."

I waited.

"You picked him," Dean said. "On the roof, at dinner, tonight in the pool."

"I'm not blind. Drake is the one you look at, and the rest of us are, what, a bonus."

"That's not..."

"I was first, in your room. I was first in the garage. I'm the guy who laughed."

He rubbed his face with the heel of his hand.

"I know what I am. I'm fun. I'm the loud one."

"Nobody ever stays with the fun one. They stay with the one who sits outside the door."

I had never heard him talk this quietly.

"I'd rather leave on a good night than stand around until you're polite about it," he said.

The back door of the house opened.

Drake came across the yard in a pair of wet shorts, with Finley and Gabe a few steps behind him.

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