That's What You Get

Chapter Eighteen: Through the Cracks

The road stretched in front of Pete like a quiet threat, long and winding, dust curling off the edges as the late afternoon sun sank behind him. His fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel, one hand gripping tighter every time a memory reared its head.

He kept seeing Dani's eyes.

Not angry. Not sad. Not even tired.

Just... dimmed.

That was the word that wouldn't leave him.

She used to be all light and bite, unshakable even when she was pissed. But today, when Patrick barked at her for spilling that glass, her face had gone blank. Like a TV on mute. Like she'd been trained to disappear.

Pete turned off the radio. Static had started to hiss, and it matched too closely with the way his thoughts were unraveling.

He told himself it was none of his business. Maybe it was just a fight. All couples fought.

But that wasn't a fight.

That was control.

His grip on the wheel tightened.

He used to talk like that. To Mikey. Sometimes he still did. That same clipped tone, laced with suggestion, steeped in ownership.

He used to believe it was love.

He signaled without looking and took a turn too sharply. The tires protested, but he barely heard them.

The car felt too quiet now. Too still. Just him and his guilt bouncing off the windows.

If Patrick was hurting Dani, and Pete hadn't noticed, what did that say about him?

That he was blind?

Or that he didn't care enough to see?

He let out a sharp breath, angry at himself. At Patrick. At the feeling growing in his gut like mold.

They were best friends. Brothers. The two of them against the world since high school. Patrick had stood by him when everyone else walked away. When the truth came out about Mikey. When the cuffs clicked. Patrick had visited.

But now...

Now Pete couldn't shake the way Dani's shoulders had hunched inward as she offered him coffee, her hand trembling just enough to spill a few drops onto the counter. How Patrick hadn't even looked up from his phone when it happened.

Pete's mind flicked to Mikey.

To the way he used to justify everything. How he'd twist himself into knots trying to please Pete, to keep the peace, to avoid the snap.

That was love, Pete used to think.

But now he wasn't so sure.

Was Patrick doing the same thing?

Was Dani?

And if Pete had let it happen... if he still sat at Patrick's table and nodded along... what did that make him?

A hypocrite?

A coward?

Or worse...

Just the same as he ever was.

The turnoff to Mikey's neighborhood came into view, lined with familiar street signs and safer routines. Pete blinked, shaking off the heat building in his chest.

He should say something. To Patrick. To Dani.

But the words stuck.

What if he was wrong?

What if he wasn't?

He pulled into the driveway slowly, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Mikey's porch light was already on, casting a warm glow against the approaching dusk.

Pete turned off the engine but didn't move.

Instead, he sat there, gripping the wheel, Dani's face burned into his brain, and a question sitting heavy in his throat:

If Patrick wasn't who he thought he was...

Then who the hell was Pete?

Pete sat in the car for a full minute after the engine died. The silence buzzed in his ears, louder than the hum of the radio ever could. He finally pushed the door open and stepped out, gravel grinding underfoot as he approached the porch.

The door creaked open before he even knocked.

Mikey stood there in sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair messy, eyes soft but wary.

"You okay?" Mikey asked, stepping aside to let him in.

Pete nodded. "Yeah. Just... long drive."

Mikey didn't press. He rarely did. Instead, he padded back to the kitchen and poured two glasses of water like it was routine. Like Pete hadn't once made him flinch at the sound of breaking glass.

Pete followed him in, watching the easy, nervous way Mikey moved. He noticed how Mikey's shoulders subtly tensed when he got too close, just for a second, then eased again.

Old reflexes. Still there. Still wired into him.

"You hungry?" Mikey asked.

"No. Just... tired," Pete replied, though that wasn't true. He wasn't tired. He was spinning.

Mikey set the glass in front of him. Pete reached for it, and their hands brushed. Mikey flinched.

Not visibly. Not dramatically. Just a microsecond of recoil.

Pete's stomach dropped.

He pulled his hand back. "Sorry," he muttered, and it came out too sharp. The way it always did. Defensive. Quick. Weaponized regret.

Mikey froze. Didn't meet his eyes.

Pete closed his eyes and let out a breath. "I didn't mean that like... that. I just..." He rubbed his temples. "I'm not trying to be an asshole."

Mikey looked at him then, wary but waiting. Not forgiving. Not accusing. Just... open.

Pete sat down at the table and leaned forward, both elbows braced. "Do you ever think we turned into something we swore we'd never be?"

Mikey blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... you and me. When we were younger, we said we'd never become like our dads. Or your uncle. Or any of them. But I think I did. I am. And today, I..." Pete stopped himself. He shook his head. "I was over at Dani and Patrick's. Something was... off."

Mikey's eyes sharpened slightly. "Off how?"

"Just... Dani. The way she didn't speak unless he looked at her. The way she moved. Like she was avoiding landmines."

Mikey was quiet for a long beat. "You think he's hurting her?"

Pete looked down at his hands. "I don't know. I think I didn't want to see it."

Silence.

Then Mikey said, carefully, "You used to say the same thing about us. That you didn't want to see it."

The words landed soft but heavy.

Pete nodded. "I know."

A long pause stretched between them.

Then Pete said, voice quieter than Mikey had heard in months, "You flinched when I reached for the glass."

Mikey didn't deny it.

Pete looked at him. "I hated that. That I still make you do that."

Mikey finally sat down across from him. "You're here. You're trying. That's... more than I thought I'd get."

Pete swallowed hard, guilt threatening to choke him.

"I don't want to be him anymore," Pete said.

Mikey held his gaze. "Then don't be."

It wasn't a forgiveness. Not yet. But it was a door.

And Pete, for the first time in a long time, wanted to walk through it without kicking it down.