“After that day at the lake last year. Remember? I got that cramp when we were swimming.”

Yeah, I remembered. It’d been a typical New England August day, hot and muggy, and we’d been at the lake, one last little hurrah before school started for the Kid and me. The water had been lukewarm and a little uncomfortable, but Otter was laughing, the Kid shrieking when I’d splashed him. Ty had made fun of us when Otter took off his shirt and flexed, showing off for me like he always denied he did. I’d leered at him, and the Kid choked and gagged, but it was all right. It was all right because we were together; we were alive after all the shit we’d been through.

And as the sky started streaking in oranges and pinks, the stars little hard flecks of ice against a deep, deep blue, Otter and I had been by ourselves, just treading water, our knees bumping as we kicked to stay afloat. We’d been close, our noses brushing together as we whispered about nothing in particular. He’d kissed me, once, twice, and then a third time, and being that close to him, I could see the lines around his mouth and the little divots around his eyes. It was such a sight to see, these little signs of age, because he was mine, and he had been for years, no matter what had happened between us.

Eventually, we’d gone back to shore after his leg had started bothering him.

The Kid was spread-eagled and snoring on top of large towels, his skin a little pink, an arm over his eyes.

Otter had taken a pill when we’d gotten home, and I’d massaged his leg. He’d groaned sleepily at me, a soft smile on his face, promising that he’d blow me in the morning as a way of saying thanks.

And that was a promise he’d kept.

“You should probably check,” I said now, stomach twisting at the thought. “Just to make sure.”

He nodded and pushed himself up from the couch. He was out of the living room before I looked back at the Kid.

He was tense, still. And glaring, his lips a thin line, brow pinched, eyes narrowed. I stared coolly in response, trying to keep my face carefully blank. It was harder than I thought it’d be, given that I wanted nothing more than to throttle the shit out of him.

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of,” he said.

“Funny. I don’t remember accusing you of anything.” Yet.

“Those aren’t mine.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I was holding them for someone.”

“Really. Great. If that’s the case, if this is all a misunderstanding, then you’d have no problem giving me a name. Or better yet, getting this person on the phone.”

“I can’t—Jesus. Bear, I don’t know what you think I did or what I’m doing, but I promise you, it’s not—”

Otter came back into the living room.