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He shakes his head, kisses my forehead, and then releases me to retrieve the other sledgehammer. I’m about to ask how he expects me to help since I don’t have a giant hammer to smash through walls with when he hands me his.
It’s heavier than I expected, so it thumps to the floor even as I grip the handle with both hands. Deciding that I’m going to have to use this like a heavy croquet mallet because there’s no way I’m overhand swinging this monster, I ask, “If I’m using this, then what are you going to use?”
Connor squeezes his hands closed at his sides, and his eyes shift to his wolf’s. In a low growl around sharp teeth, he answers, “My fists.”
Chapter 7
Felix
Dave groans as my Yoshi punts his Solid Snake off the platform for the final time, giving me the win for the match. “Dude, when did you get so good? You don’t even own a Switch. I had to bring mine over.”
“Naturally gifted,” I answer with a tight smile, my heart racing because it’s another thing that makes me different from the original James. Pre-ghost me played all the different variations of Super Smash Bros. for years, but I certainly can’t tell him that.
Both of us are sitting on my bed with our backs against the far wall, leaving me in easy reach for an elbow to the ribs. “Unless a concussion suddenly makes you gifted at video games, I call bullshit. Shouldn’t you be worse since you can’t remember anything?”
“It’s all about instinct,” I taunt with a superior grin, relieved that we’ve reached the stage of making fun of my supposed amnesia. Razzing friends is something I’m far more comfortable with. “No memories means I can’t think too hard about it. Wasn’t that your advice when I pitched my first game back?” My right hand does a wave type motion. “Just let it flow.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” he challenges while he flicks through which character he wants to play next. “It may not have been your best game, but your pitching wasn’t too bad. We won, after all.”
“High praise,” I reply with an eye roll, choosing to leave out that the game had a lot more to do with trying not to trigger Callie’s PTSD—more strikeouts meant less sounds of the bat hitting the ball—than his sage words of wisdom.
“Well, you did walk like three people at the beginning of the game.” He snorts and shakes his head. “You pitched so wide you might as well have been aiming for the fence.” He gives me a friendly nudge with his shoulder. “Don’t worry too much. You’re improving with each game. Soon, you’ll be back to your old self.”
“Yeah,” I respond in a flat tone, my expression falling as all the humor drains out of me. This is why I find it so difficult to be around Dave. He wants his old friend back, and I’ll never be him.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” He sighs, bumping the back of his head against the wall. “I just meant that you’ll get back to the skill level you were before the accident.”
Pretending to be engrossed in choosing my next character, I offer up a neutral, “Yeah, I know. It’s fine.”
Dave tosses his controller onto the bed, causing it to bounce toward the pillows, and scrubs his face with both hands. “Dude, I’m trying.”
“It’s fine, really,” I assure him, although I know it doesn’t sound convincing. Placing the controller down far less aggressively than him, I release a deep sigh and look over at him. “It’s okay to miss him. I mean me. Old me. Fuck, you know what I mean.”
He drops his hands to his lap but doesn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he chooses to stare at my dresser across the room. “If it’s okay to miss old you, then why does it feel like a fuck up to mention anything before the accident? Why are we only hanging out now?”
Pulling my legs up, I wrap my arms around my knees. My thigh muscles are like tree trunks now, so I don’t collapse down into as small of a ball as I used to. “It’s… hard to be compared to him. You were his best friend. You knew him better than everyone.” I examine his profile, taking in the bumps and valleys of his face. It’s not hard to see he’s classically attractive, with a strong jaw, sharp nose, and all that, and I wonder if James ever looked at him as more than a friend. Does Dave know about the box under the bed? “I’m never going to be him,” I continue, deciding to lay it all on the line. “This is what you get, and it sucks knowing that’s disappointing to a whole lot of people.”
He jerks like I hit him, and with wide hazel eyes, he meets my gaze. His words jumble out of his mouth as he denies my statement. “I’m not disappointed. Your family isn’t disappointed. We’re all happy you’re alive.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t happy I lived,” I reply, the not quite a lie awkward on my tongue. James died, but since I’m running around in his reanimated corpse, he also isn’t dead. “You can be happy and still be disappointed that the person you knew is gone.”
He swallows heavily. “Do you… Do you hate me for what happened?”
Sighing, I lean back against the wall. “What happened wasn’t your fault, so no, I don’t hate you.” I leave out the fact that I don’t have many feelings at all since I barely know him. “If I’m mad at anyone, it’s him. I mean, old me. Whatever. He chose to drive drunk. It’s no one’s fault but his.”
Dave shifts until he’s sitting cross-legged, facing me. “You really don’t see yourself as the same person, do you?”
I shake my head and finally say something completely true. “We’re not the same person. The James you remember is gone. It’s just me now.”
His grief drags on his shoulders, the weight of his loss bowing his back as he leans on his thighs. He’s quiet as what I said settles into him, the words snuffing out all remaining flames of hope.
A familiar feeling of guilt worms within my gut, and I murmur, “I’m sorry you lost your friend. From what I can tell, he was a pretty good guy.”
He looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “So you don’t remember anything? Nothing before the accident?”
“I know who the president is and how to cook a pretty decent grilled cheese, but nothing that relates to me.” I motion to the room at large. “Nothing about this life.”
His expression is pinched, and strands of his light brown hair fall across his forehead as he shakes his head. “If you don’t remember anything, then why are you hanging out with Campbell and his friends?”
