“Do you know who that is with Trace?” I ask cautiously.
“Of course, dear.” She squints cloudy eyes at the brawl. “Cole told me what happened. Someone should be fired over that horrible confusion at the explosion.”
This should be interesting, since he hasn’t told me shit about his cover story. Though I’m not surprised he talked to her. He’s been out here every day, working on his bike. It’s conceivable that he’s spent more time with my nosy neighbor than he has with me.
Across the yard, Trace wraps his legs around Cole’s neck, both of them grunting as they try to grind an elbow, knee, or whatever body part they can into muscle and bone.
“Did he give you any details about the explosion?” I chew on the inside of my cheek, silently begging them to stop.
“Not much. Just that his company thought they had his body. It’s terrible that he was detained in an Iraqi prison and forgotten about for three years. What has the world come to?”
Hatred and rage and blood. That’s what my world has come to.
Cole surges to his feet and rears back an arm. I tense as Trace’s leg flies out and knocks Cole’s feet out from beneath him. Cole lands on his back, and his agonized groan shoots a sharp pain through my chest.
I jerk to rush toward them, but a gnarled hand catches my wrist.
“Let them work it out.” Virginia squeezes my arm with a shocking amount of strength.
“I can think of better ways to work things out.”
“That’s how boys express their differences. They need to get all the bad out of their blood. They’ll feel better after.”
I doubt they’ll feel anything but bruises and broken bones, but I remain where I am, cringing at the godawful din of smacking flesh.
“Did Cole tell you why he was detained in prison?” I soften my voice to sound like I know the answer.
“Something about a foul-up at the oil terminal, and Iraq thought the U.S. contractors caused it. I don’t really understand how all that political stuff works.”
“Yeah, it confuses me, too.”
For a cover story, I guess it’s vague enough to be believable. Virginia doesn’t seem to bat an eyelash at it.
“Whatever happened to him was bad,” she says. “He doesn’t like to talk about it.” Her hand relaxes, shifting to curl around mine. “You take special care with that boy, you hear? There’s something different about him. A sadness that wasn’t there before. He needs your love now more than ever.”
My heart pinches. “But what about Trace? I’m engaged to him, Virginia.”
“Yes, well, that’s why they’re fighting.” She lifts my hand, drawing my attention to the ring on my finger.
Rings.
Why are there two rings?
“Oh my God.” I separate the silver bands, intimately familiar with both of them. “I didn’t—”
“Cole slipped it on your finger last night while you slept.” Her cataract eyes glitter in the sun. “Trace found out about it, and there you have it.” She gestures at the grappling, grunting tangle of limbs in the grass.
My eyes widen. “How do you know this?”
“They were arguing about it this morning. Spitting and swearing and disturbing the peace.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “They’ve been watching you while you sleep. They argued about that, too.”
Damn her sharp hearing. She’ll be wagging her tongue about my drama up and down the street by lunchtime.
“They’ve been sneaky about it.” She clutches the loose skin on her throat. “Tiptoeing into your room without the other one knowing. I guess they ran into each other early this morning.”
And I slept through it. What else am I sleeping through? I pinch the bridge of my nose and peek at the scuffle.
Cole attacks Trace with flying knuckles, eyes wild and muscles flexed, like he’s pumped up on faith and glory. And Trace, all graceful arms and legs, dodges the strikes and snaps his fist so fast it’s inhuman.
“I should stop them.” I twist the rings on my finger.
“You will do no such thing. The good Lord sent them to you for a reason. Don’t get in the way.”
I gape at her. “They’re fighting over me. I’m already in the way.”
“Did you choose one over the other?”
My neck shrinks, pulling my ears toward my shoulders as that wretched goddamn word ricochets through my skull. Choose. Choose. Choose.
“I can’t.” I choke on a rush of tears and curl my fingers around the rings. “I’m engaged to them both, and I can’t be. Two is a lie.” I squeeze the silver bands so hard they dig into my skin. “Loving two men is wrong.”
“A mother loves more than one child. Is that wrong?”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Love is love, Danni.”
“Not when it’s poisoned by jealousy.”
We fall quiet as the fight across the yard breaks apart. Cole and Trace lie on their backs with several feet of distance between them. Chests heaving and splattered in blood, they stare at the big blue sky, lost in their misery.
“Love them. That’s all you can do.” Virginia grabs her cane and shuffles back to her house, mumbling, “The rest will work itself out.”
Love them. That’s all you can do.
Virginia’s words nestle into the squishy parts of my heart as I gather towels and first-aid supplies from the bathroom. When I reach the kitchen, Cole and Trace are sitting where I instructed—on the floor, side by side, backs to the cabinets, and hands to themselves.
“Look at that. You’re sharing air without snarling and foaming like rabid dogs.” I step over Cole’s bent leg and stand between their slumped postures. “I’m tempted to pat your heads.”
That earns me double frowns, and a grunt for good measure from Cole.
“I learned something interesting while you were molesting each other outside.” I lower to my knees, facing them, and set the supplies between their hips. “You’re sneaking into my room at night when I’m sleeping? Both of you?”
Trace meets my gaze without flinching. Cole wipes the blood from his nose and glares at the floor.
“Watching me sleep… Wow.” I rub my forehead. “That isn’t creepy or anything.”
“I’ve been watching you sleep for two months.” Trace leans in and drops his voice. “I miss you, Danni. So fucking much.”
Cole flares his nostrils. “You son of a—”
“That’s enough,” I snap at him. “This is already hard, for everyone involved. But watching you do this to yourselves, seeing you carry around all this animosity and resentment, I can’t do it.”
“What are you saying?” Cole searches my face with panic in his eyes.
“Chill the fuck out. That’s what I’m saying.”
He releases a heavy breath and rests his head back against the cabinet.
“I know this situation is a shit load of fucked, but this…” I gesture at the blood smudged across their chests. “This is an unwanted, avoidable travesty. Like a wet fart in a tight leotard.” I purse my lips. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
“A wet fart…” Cole’s mouth bounces before settling into a small lopsided grin.