Page 392 of End Game

He laughs.

Then I tell him the other part. “I don't think I want the stage.”

He glances over.

“I mean, I want a stage. Grave Intentions. Shows. Maybe guest stuff sometimes. But not…” I gesture vaguely. “That.”

“Austin's life.”

“Yeah.”

Micah nods.

No disappointment.

No but you could.

Just, “Okay.”

I look at him. “That's it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don't know. Something inspirational. You had four weeks to prepare.”

He squeezes my hand. “You figured out what you want.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah.”

“I think I do want to write for people.”

“Then do that.”

I stare at him.

He glances over again. “What?”

“I love you.”

His face softens. “I love you too.”

“Still gross.”

“Definitely.”

We keep holding hands.

Cami hits me at approximately Mach three.

The front door isn't completely closed before she launches herself at me.

“DEX!”

“Jesus fuck—”

I catch her mostly because reflexes exist.