“I need you to trust me right now. Don’t open the mail. Don’t go near it. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Stacey fucked up, and I’m trying to catch a flight out to you right now.”

“You’re coming here?” I ask, not caring about the rest of what he’s said. It doesn’t matter. He’s coming to me. He’s coming to see me. “Dude, that’s—” I look down at what’s in my hand and everything changes.

The envelope falls to the floor.

“Ty? Tyson!”

I can’t breathe.

“Tyson! Dammit, I can hear you!”

“You bastard,” I finally say.

“No,” he says, sounding distressed. “No, Ty, listen to me.”

“Is this true?”

“I… it’s not….”

“Is this true?” I shout at him, enraged. My chest is heaving, my skin slick with sweat. My throat is starting to close and my eyes are burning. This has to be a joke. This can’t be real. He wouldn’t do this to me. He would have told me if it was getting this far. He would have warned me. No. He wouldn’t have even done any of this to begin with. This isn’t real.

“It doesn’t matter, Ty,” he says desperately. “Listen to me, you need to breathe, okay? You need to breathe for me. In, okay? You know how to do this. Breathe in and hold it for three seconds. Please. Please do this.”

But I can’t. I won’t. I don’t know now that this will be the last time I hear his voice for almost four years. I don’t know now that I won’t see his face for almost four years. I don’t know now that this, for all that has come before, for all that we are and would become, for every single tie that binds us together, this is our ending. This is our good-bye. This is what will break us apart.

And it will be my choice.

“Bathtub,” I say numbly. “I need….”

“No,” he moans. “Oh, Ty. Please don’t. Please breathe. Just breathe.”

But I can’t because there are earthquakes. I can’t because the ground is shaking. I can’t because I am in the thrall of a full-blown panic attack, something that hasn’t happened in months. I can hear him above the roar in my ears, but he’s so far away. He’s so far away and he hasn’t answered my question. He hasn’t denied what I hold in my hand.

“I gotta go,” I tell him, unable to stop my voice from cracking. “Gotta go get safe. Gotta go ’cause everything is shaking, D-Dom. Everything is s-shaking and I can’t… I….”

“Tyson James Thompson, you listen to me,” he demands, breaking through the whirlwind in my head. “Are you listening?”

“D-Don’t come here.”

He’s stunned. “What?”

“You didn’t d-deny it. You didn’t t-tell me it’s a j-j-joke. Stay away. Dom. Stay away. I can’t. I can’t b-b-breathe.” I start moving down the hall toward the bathroom.

“He’s having an attack,” he snaps at someone in the background. “Call Bear and Otter. Do it now!” To me: “Ty? Tyson!”