Jamie Brodie 02 - Hoarded to Death

was thinking this time.
    Pete had gotten home later than usual yesterday and wouldn’t say where he’d been. Said it was a surprise. So maybe he did have something up his sleeve.
    The bus finally made it to my stop, and I trudged home. The past three weeks had been tiring. We’d been swamped at the reference desk every day, and there was a new history professor who sent me daily requests for obscure articles and manuscripts. I’d been pulling favors left and right from friends in the libraries at Oxford to find some of them.
    My therapy sessions with Dr. Bibbins were going well, but getting heavier. This week we’d started digging through my history with Pete, in particular our first attempt at a relationship. Dr. Bibbins felt that Pete and I were going to need couples therapy to really move forward, and I agreed. But getting Pete to that point was going to be problematic. He and I had talked a little bit about what we were both doing in therapy, but we were both so busy that it was hard to find time to have an in-depth conversation. On the weekends, we always seemed to be doing something with friends and didn’t have much alone time. And here it was, Valentine’s Day, and he’d invited people to dinner.
    Sigh.
    When I got home, Kevin and Abby were already there, hanging out on the deck with Pete while he grilled. I said hello, then went upstairs to change. I was pulling my shirt over my head when someone knocked on the door.
    I disentangled my head from my shirt and saw that my visitor was Kevin. He handed me a bottle of beer. “You look like you could use this.”
    “That bad, huh?” I took a drink, then started rooting through the dresser drawers for a clean t-shirt.
    “Yeah, that bad. Long week?”
    “Long year . Toss me the sweatpants on the back of the door, please?” I found a shirt and pulled it on, then took another drink and started getting out of my shoes.
    “I hear that.” Kevin handed me the sweats. He had a funny look on his face.
    I took off my khakis. “What?”
    “I met Pete for lunch yesterday.”
    “Yeah? He didn’t say anything about it.” I retrieved the beer and sat on the edge of the bed.
    “I know.” Kevin stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and leaned back against the wall. “He told me what happened to him. About the abuse.”
    I froze, one leg half into my sweatpants, stunned into silence. Kevin gave me a crooked smile. “I know he said to you that you couldn’t tell anyone, but he decided to tell me himself.”
    I shook my head in disbelief. “It’s his story. I’d never tell anyone. But I’m shocked that he decided to admit it to you.”
    “He did it for you. Mostly, anyway.”
    “ What? ”
“He said you needed someone else to talk to about it. That he knew you were afraid to say much to him because he hadn’t been handling the aftermath very well. It wasn’t just that; apparently he talked about it to his therapist, and she said it would be a good idea for him to tell me.”
    “Because you’re his best friend.”
    “Other than you, yeah. And other than Abby, he’s mine. So I’m glad he decided to tell. It explains a lot.”
    I set my empty bottle on the nightstand and rubbed my face. “Yeah. It does.”
    Kevin crossed the room and sat beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders. “I feel terrible for him.”
    “Oh my God, yes. It’s a horrible thing.”
    “He said you’d been great about it.”
    “I’m trying. I don’t know how well I’m doing, though.”
    Kevin squeezed my shoulders in a half-hug. “According to him, you’re doing just fine.” He stood up. “He said it wasn’t fair to you that you had to carry the burden by yourself. So he wanted to give you someone else to help you carry it.”
    “ And you don’t mind that.”
    “Hell, no.” He reached out and ruffled my hair. “Anything for you, short stuff.”
    I swatted at his arm and he laughed. “Plus, I know it’s easier for me, ‘cause I don’t have to live with him. Much less sleep with him.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Believe me, you don’t want to know.”
    “You’re right, I don’t.” He held out his hand and pulled me to my feet. “C’mon. Supper must be ready by now.”
    The shrimp kabobs and roasted vegetables were delicious. Abby had brought homemade brownies with little hearts outlined in multicolored sprinkles on each one. After we finished eating, I got up to start clearing the table, but Pete put his hand on my arm to urge me back down.