Page 42 of Loverboy

I was pulled to that energy, my feet carrying me closer to him with purpose. He shrank away, but didn’t stop me from patting his head and making a mess of his loose curls. I needed to know that he was still here, with me.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m good at these things. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Go put her shit in a box and leave it by the door.” I dropped my hand to his shoulder, giving him a nudge.

He nodded listlessly, padding toward his room.

I compartmentalized my own raging fears, which had nothing to do with confrontation and everything to do with the thought of Milo getting hurt—or worse—losing him to a girl who didn’t deserve him if they reconciled. I couldn’t stand that he’d still probably take her back if it meant not being alone.

He wasn’t alone.

I was right fucking here.

The last time I’d felt this level of desperation was when Milo had wanted to introduce me to his closest childhood friend. Given how he’d idolized him, I was terrified I’d be replaced, scared of whatever made him so much better than me. That fear never materialized after we met, because Milo’s friend ended up moving away, and our little bubble remained intact.

I knew he was on the cusp of spiralling, if he wasn’t already. That clocked-out look in his eyes never slipped past me, and it only further proved that I was doing the right thing, saving him from more emotional damage.

If Sofia knew I was at the apartment, she would never show up. She didn’t particularly like me, and rightfully so. I always made a point of making it hard for his partners to get my approval, and of course, none of them ever did. The math around it was simple: if they couldn’t handle me, they couldn’t handle him.

They couldn’t have him.

Milo needed a certain type of person to meet his needs. He needed someone who could handle his mood swings, someone tender enough to bring him down from every high, and yet strong enough to pull him out of every low. A person who could see the beauty in all of the broken pieces and love him unconditionally, even when he might turn on them and try to bite. Someone who wouldn’t go anywhere, no matter what he threw at them.

Someone like me.

19

Milo

THERE WAS A gaping hole in my chest that was rapidly filling with liquid panic, threatening a heart attack that never came. I tried to tell myself it was all in my head and that if I grew a pair, I wouldn’t get like this whenever I faced confrontation.

I couldn’t even handle being yelled at when I got my first job in food service. As soon as someone picked a fight with me, my body went into fight-or-flight mode, complete with rapid muscle contractions.

Every item of Sofia’s that I dropped into the cardboard box on my bedroom floor felt like losing another piece of her. It was stupid—she was already gone. I wanted to tell Jasper I could handle this on my own, but the way my body was failing me only solidified the truth we both knew. I wasn’t strong enough.

I knew that seeing her would be rubbing salt in my own wounds, but a part of me still wanted to, even if it hurt. I fantasized that she’d see me and regret it all, take me back as though nothing had happened. My revelation last night about not needing her, about having everything I needed right here, had completely fallen apart over the mere suggestion that maybe I could slip back into the comfort of a woman who already knew me.

If Jasper weren’t here, I would beg her to take me back. Not because I loved her, but because I couldn’t handle the thought of being back at square one. I didn’t want to unpack all of my trauma with someone new, let them in and see all of my scars. I didn’t want to revert to first dates and meaningless questions like What’s your favourite colour?

How could I do it all over again?

The apartment buzzer made my frantic heart seize, my blood running cold. I rushed to the door with the box in my hands, holding it so tightly that little indentations formed in the cardboard beneath my fingers.

“Go to your room, Milo.” Jasper’s voice was painfully soft.

“What if I just stand off to the side? I won’t say anything.” It was a lie. A last-ditch effort to somehow be involved, to feel like I wasn’t so pathetic.

“Your room,” he repeated sternly.

I nearly crushed the box in my grip, but in the end, I relented. I placed it next to the door as he asked, then retreated down the hallway toward my room. I hid around the corner and pressed my back to the wall, sliding down it until I was sitting, hugging my knees to my chest.

The door opened, and I covered my mouth, swallowing vomit.

“Sofia,” Jasper said flatly.

Silence followed, stretching a moment longer than I could tolerate. I shifted on the floor, torn between staying where I was and stealing a glance down the hall. It was too risky, and I was afraid that seeing her would make me fall apart and earn Jasper’s scolding later.