“You and Scotty?” he probed, standing over me and folding his huge arms like a forbidding shadow. Breathing in and out, I concentrated on the way my abdomen flexed and burned through the movements. “Maybe.” “That’s interesting.” “It could be. Guess we’ll find out.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Why?” Why? Some better questions would be: Why do you care? Why does it matter? Why won’t you evaporate into thin air, float into somebody else’s atmosphere, and let me finally breathe without choking on the idea of you? But no part of me truly wanted that, so all I said was, “He’s one of the few
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