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More pieces snap into place, but the result is even morebaffling. More infuriating, because the most important parts are still missing. We have everything except the key to unlocking this entire situation. I don’t know how we’re supposed to do anything without that key.

I need to get it. It’s time to have it out with him once and for all. No lies, no games, no coddling. Just brother-to-brother, soul-to-soul.

“What are you doing?” Callie asks when I push to my feet.

“Going to find out what the hell is going on.”

She grabs my arm with an urgency that stops me cold.

“No, you can’t.” Her eyes are pleading.

“Ican’t? You’re telling me my unstable friend has some kind of obsessive relationship with a piece of furniture, and I shouldn’t go try to find out why?”

She nods and tugs my arm. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. It’s not just a chair. It’s something else, and he’s not ready. If you barge in there now and attack him, you’re going to undo everything we’ve done!”

I rip my arm away, feeling completely lost. Fingers laced above my head, I pace along the length of the couch, breathing hard.

I respect her. I trust her. But this is… How can leaving him alone with a chair be the best thing for him?

He went home to meet with fucking lawyers!

Callie grasps my arm and drags me toward the couch.

“Please, Casey. I’m asking you to let it go,” she begs. “Not forever, just for now, okay? Let him have this. I’m telling you, he needs this.”

She frames my face and digs her gaze into mine until she’s the only thing I comprehend.

“Can you just trust me?”

The longer I get lost in the hazel pools of compassion, the more the storm settles.

A tortured exhale expels from my lungs.

“This is crazy. I mean, he’s always been odd, but a chair?”

“I don’t know what the chair means, but I know it’s significant. He’ll let us in when he’s ready.”

“And until then?”

“Until then, we keep fighting for the small stuff.”

Fighting for the small stuff…

A smile cracks my heavy cloud.

“What?” she asks, furrowing her brow.

I bite back the humor as it tries to poke through. “Nothing. Just you.”

“Me? What about me?” She crosses her arms with a stern look.

“You’re like a cross between a motivational poster and a shrink. And my mom.”

Her eyes widen as she coughs out a laugh. “Your mom? Really? You made out with me—twice—and I remind you of your mom?”

Three times, but there’s no way I’m pointing that out when she’s already taking swings at me.

Literally.