Page 77 of Should the Sky Fall

“I know,” Dawson says, defensiveness draining out of him. “And I hate and love you for it equally.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Kieran grumbles. Dawson can tell he’s smiling. “Promise me you’ll keep an eye on him. Don’t let him fuck with your head again.”

Dawson frowns. “Kieran, he has no idea who he is. Or who I am, for that matter.”

“Yeah, maybe. But he could still remember.”

“Unlikely. If he doesn’t start remembering within the next two weeks, the chances become pretty much zero.” The doctors said so.

“It almost sounds like you’re hoping he won’t remember.” Kieran says.

Dawson bristles at the accusation in his tone. “So what if I do? I’ll take weird, oblivious Cal over the—”

“Asshole Cal?”

“—any day,” Dawson finishes.

“Sure, makes sense,” Kieran agrees easily. Too easily. “I just hope you’re not gonna slide on your rose-colored glasses and pretend the last six years never happened.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I don’t want you to forget what kind of person he is just because he seems like a harmless puppy now. I don’t care if he’s all clueless, helpless, or oblivious, or whatever you wanna call it. He’s a dick, and you promised to finish what you started.”

Tension settles in Dawson’s body. He thinks back on the day a couple weeks ago, when he was sitting right on this sofa, Kieran next to him, determined to cut himself loose from the shackles.

“Yeah, I remember,” Dawson murmurs, thinking of the divorce papers sitting in his nightstand. “And if it gets you off my case, I’ll have you know that I made an appointment with a therapist.”

“That Ashley chick?” Kieran asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah. I have an appointment next week.”

“Okay. Wow. Yeah, that actually makes me feel better.” Which is saying a lot, considering Kieran’s narrow-minded opinions on mental health professionals. He could use one too, in fact. Maybe then he could stop dating all those…ehm…interesting people he gravitates towards.

“Great. I’m happy for you,” Dawson says, very dryly.

“Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Kieran snickers. “Love you, man. Check your phone, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you, too.”

Dawson hangs up, a smile on his face that lasts all of five seconds before it percolates that he needs to call Olivia as well. With a bit of luck, he won’t have to go through all the details again.

“Oh, thank god,” she says in lieu of a greeting. “I was worried sick!”

“You’re always worried.”

“For good reason.”

“How are the girls?”

“Dead to the world. How areyou?”