Page 51 of Should the Sky Fall

“And what would you do in my place? Please, I’m all ears,” Dawson snaps, letting his frustration bleed into his voice. He’s grateful for all of Kieran’s help, for being there for Dawson and letting him stay even when it stirred shit up with his now ex-girlfriend, but he’s tired of having to explain himself. Everyone thinks it’s so easy to just let go and never look back.

“I sure as fuck wouldn’t play house with my abusive asshole of a husband just because he knocked a screw loose. Dawson, you were going to ask for adivorce.”

Great. Just what he needs. Another reminder to set off the guilt trip all over again.

“Yeah, well, that was before he forgot everything about his life and himself.”

“And you,” Kieran reminds him, as if Dawson needs it. As if Cal’s peculiar behavior and the way he acts with Dawson at the hospital isn’t enough of a mindfuck.

Dawson is clueless when it comes to memory or the brain, but even he knows that Cal’s abrupt personality change can’t be normal. Even with his memory gone, there must be something of the old Cal left in him, right? People can change their opinions and beliefs, but they don’t change their true nature. There must be plenty left in his subconscious, all his learned behaviors and traumas and addictions. Kind of like muscle memory.

Or maybe not. Maybe he’s just making stuff up.

Because the way Cal treats him? The way he speaks to Dawson? Dawson’s never seen him so calm and subdued. Granted, it could be Cal’s pain meds that make him so, but meds don’t explain why Cal looks at him like Dawson is the answer to everything. They don’t explain the open curiosity in his gaze as he asked about the first time they met. Or, heavens above, his sudden affinity for teen fiction.

They certainly don’t explain why underneath Dawson’s apprehension and deep-seated fear, there’s an element of intrigue, a little voice that demands to find out how much Cal has changed and what kind of man he is now.

Not that any of that matters. Cal might not remember who he was, but Dawson does. He remembers everything.

“You’re right. He doesn’t remember me. So you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Is that it?” Kieran demands. “You think it’s fine because he doesn’t remember you? What happens if he does?!”

Instinctual fear rises inside Dawson at the thought. “I’ll cross that bridge if I ever get to it.”

Kieran scoffs. “Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Slapping his hand against the steering wheel, Kieran says, “This is what you do, Dawson. You always come up with an excuse, something to make you stay.”

The words hit him, sharp and hot. Is this what Kieran thinks of him?

It’s not like he’s wrong, is it?

“I’m not making excuses for him.” Kieran’s eyeroll causes the next words to come out angrier than Dawson had intended. “I know what kind of person he is and I haven’t forgotten the shit he’s done. I’m just saying—” He stops, realizing how desperate he sounds. “Look, no one could see this coming. And everyone expects me to look after him.”

“Screw what everyone expects,” Kieran bites out. It almost makes Dawson smile. His friend has always been a little untamed. “Why can't you just hire a carer? It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

It’s crossed his mind, but it doesn’t sit well with him. “And leave him with a stranger?”

“You’re a stranger to him too! What’s the difference?”

That… shouldn’t sting as much as it does. He doesn’t take Cal’s amnesia personally, he’s not that petty, but something about being seen as no different from an actual stranger creates a hollow sensation in his chest. Yeah, Cal can’t remember, but Jesus, they’ve been together for half a decade. They have a history, as painful as it is.

“Don’t you think he would wonder why his husband can’t look after him?”

Kieran just shrugs, like it’s not important. “Let him think whatever he wants. He’s not your responsibility.”

So why does it feel like he is? “I can’t. I know what you’re saying, and I get it,” he plows on before Kieran can go off again. “But I justcan’t.”

Watching him from the corner of his eye for a long moment, Kieran sighs. “Yeah, I know.” In a more gentle voice, he adds, “You goddamn softie.”

“Fuck off,” Dawson says without malice.

“Did you tell Ellis?”

Dawson called him after he left the hospital. It went about as well he’d thought it would. “He thinks I’m making a mistake.”