Qhuinn looked around the room like there were windows he might be able to see out of. “I’m really not sure what to do now, by the way.”
“That’s part of how it works.” Z came over and held out the toy airplane. “Anytime you’re lost, I want you to look at this. You piloted us both back home that night. And you’re going to do it again. I believe in you.”
“You really haven’t given me anything to go on, by the way.”
“Everyone is different. The path back is not going to be the same for you as it was for me.”
“How did you start?”
“I opened my heart to someone who loved me. And then I opened my mouth to somebody who cared—and who was more than just a concerned friend.”
“I don’t want to talk to Mary. I mean, I love Rhage’s shellan and all, and I know she’s a trained social worker, but I don’t want to have to sit across from my therapist at meals, thank you very much.”
“You think it’s going to be any easier with a stranger? And fuck off with the excuses. I don’t see you skirting work anywhere else in your life. Don’t start the lazy now, and certainly not about this.”
Whatever, Qhuinn thought. He didn’t want to fucking talk to anyone. But he was too tired from the crying jag to fight the point.
“What else can I do?” he prompted.
“Do the hardest thing first. Whatever you think is the hardest . . . get it out of the way.”
After a moment, Qhuinn took the toy that was being offered to him. “Where did you get this? It has small parts, so I know it didn’t come from the playroom.”
“I ordered it off Amazon.” As Qhuinn looked surprised, the brother shrugged. “I can do things like that, you know. I’m not just a brooding cloud.”
“So you planned this.”
“Five nights ago. I figured I’d give you a week. Seemed as arbitrary an anniversary as any other, and it was a helluva lot better than a month or a year.”
Qhuinn looked at the brother’s slave bands. “It was you. You were the one who was holding me back from Lassiter that night I went after him. I saw your . . . you know, tattoos . . . out of the corner of my eye.”
“That fallen angel’s the only savior we’ve got, son.” Z went over to the door. “Besides, if he’s a trend? We lose him and the universe is going to send us Bozo the Clown next.”
“But that’s the problem. Lassiter isn’t in the savior business.”
“I think the question is more . . . who was he supposed to save that night.”
“FYI, it was the one who went out in the blizzard,” Qhuinn said bitterly.
Z just shrugged and pointed to the airplane. “Anytime you doubt yourself, look at that. And you can always come and find me, day or night.”
After the brother left, Qhuinn stared at the toes of his shitkickers. He hated to break the news to the fighter, but he hadn’t been all that helpful.
Figure out how to cope.
Yeah, like that was a map with clear markings. It was as specific as someone standing on the shores of the Old Country, and pointing west to say, Yeah, the New World is over thataways a little bit.
Qhuinn went across to the chair, took a load off, and spun the propeller on the toy plane. As the thing fell into a blur, he thought of the nature of travel and destinations. Then he thought of all the things a person could buy on Amazon. Luggage. Extra socks and underwear. Hiking boots, hats, and gloves.
You couldn’t buy a real airplane, but who knew what the future might hold. Maybe in another decade, a person could have an eco-friendly bi-wing land on their front yard. For seventy-five thousand easy payments of $12,798.99. Free financing if you pay it off in under fifty years—
Qhuinn frowned as he realized the weird riff his brain was going off on was normal for him. It was the kind of shit his mind did whenever he had downtime, his thoughts just making up little stupid hypotheticals about absolutely nothing important.
Maybe it was a sign he was coming back some.
He glanced over to the bed and remembered curling in on himself and wailing. Man, he’d fucking lost it.
So no, absolutely not—he was not going hard into the therapy. Or even lightly. Z could keep all that shrink-couch bullcrap with the Kleenex box and