Page 116 of You Know Why

That last afternoon, we were sitting in mildly uncomfortable chairs outside a coffee shop in Bariloche, gazing out at Nahuel Huapí Lake. Despite enjoying the stunning beauty of the little alpine town, I was feeling a bit off, the altitude affecting me more than usual, and Trey had been jumpy all day. Looking over his shoulder like he was expecting someone to appear.

“What’s wrong?” I’d asked, but he shook his head and frowned.

“Later,” he said gruffly.

It was so unlike him. He wasn’t the kind to shy away from sharing his feelings and thoughts, nor to be snappish with me. We’d been in a steady conversation since the day we met. He’d always been open and frank. He didn’t like to talk about his parents, but I didn’t, either. Losing my mom made it hard to revisit her casually, so I was content to stay away from these memories out of respect. And the situation with my dad was so complicated that Trey needed to hear about nothing other than the very basics. I veered away from thinking about either of them much, and that was best.

My dad’s habits had become mine for a while, but I’d walked away from it all after Roger’s death. I’d told Trey a little about what happened in France, but certainly not everything. The timing hadn’t been right, and Trey never pushed. I mean, what do you say, anyway? My former lover and my former boss got in a fight, and one killed the other? And I was too high to do anything about it?

Trey and I didn’t fight, either. Yes, we’d had a few disagreements, but nothing more than getting too tired or hungry, or hormonal, in my case.

So when he snapped at me that morning, I was instantly alert.

We got the check, did our usual walk around town, grabbed a snack and water for me, another café con leche for him. I took photos, enjoying the brilliance of the blue sky and lake against the snow. Later, with my swollen feet up on the couch, back in the warm rooms where we’d been staying, I asked again what was wrong.

“Is there anything I could do that would make you not love me?” he queried.

His back was to me, the line of his shoulders tense and uncompromising.

“I mean, if I found out you hated dogs, that might pose a problem.”

He laughed without sound. “Seriously, Brooklyn.”

“I love you no matter what. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I do love you no matter what. But I can’t pretend that there might be something you do—or have done—that can change how I feel. I’m human, so are you. People fall in and out of love. They get bored. They cheat. They die. I have no way of telling the future. Why—is there something that would make you stop loving me?”

He scoffed. “Nothing. You could murder someone and I’d stand by you.”

I hesitated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“As long as it wasn’t you. You wouldn’t be standing.”

He whipped around, eyes flashing. Angrier than I’d ever seen him. “God, Brooklyn. I’m trying to be serious here. I’m trying to tell you something important.”

“I’m sorry. I’m listening. Talk to me, babe. Something’s got you upset. Do you want to stay?”

“No. We need to leave. We need to go. I’m not thrilled that we’re flying home, but we have to.”

Trey was a very nervous flier. “We can drive,” I offered.

“That would take a month at least, and I don’t want something happening on the road. It’s better to fly.”

“All right. So what’s the problem?”

“I saw someone earlier. From my past. Someone who shouldn’t be here.”

I sit up. “Okay. Someone followed us here?”

He nods.

“And what do they want?”

“To remind me.”