Page 43 of Loverboy

“Oh, Jasper. Where’s Milo?” Sofia’s voice made my blood sing with a painful longing. She was so close, just out of reach. I thought I was getting over it.

“Why do you care?” he rebuked.

“You mean to say he can’t even be bothered to give me my stuff himself?” She was pissed. “Is he here right now?”

“No, I just don’t think you’re worth his time,” Jasper answered, and I heard what sounded like the box being picked up, the contents rattling.

“Seriously? What is wrong with you?” she said, groaning. “Why are you always getting involved in stuff that has nothing to do with you?”

“Milo has everything to do with me. He’s my brother.”

I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. Jasper’s words were a balm, easing the urge to look around the corner until it faded completely. I trusted him. I didn’t need to see her. I could sit here, and he would make it all disappear.

“You don’t think it’s a little weird how glued to your hip he is?” she pressed. “He needs to grow up.”

Ouch.

“Oh, are you jealous that there are people more important in his life than you are—sorry, were?” Jasper asked icily.

“Something is horribly wrong with both of you. Give me my stuff so I can leave.”

“Gladly. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”

I stayed put until the door clicked shut. Only then did I dare to look around the corner. Down the hall, Jasper looked pleased with himself, a smug grin plastered on his face. He caught my gaze and turned fully toward me, hands on his hips.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” His features softened.

He crossed the distance and crouched beside me. I didn’t want to need someone or beg and grovel at the feet of a woman who didn’t even want me; I just wanted to be a man my brother could be proud of. And yet, all I’d done so far was let the past repeat itself. Every relationship echoed the one that ripped me apart first, long before Sofia was around.

My muscles tensed as memories from my teenage years bubbled up to the surface. I’d made it so difficult for my first girlfriend to leave me, so much so that she’d decided the only way to make me give up was to hurt me beyond repair. The sting of her slaps lingered in my nightmares, the memory of being shoved down a flight of stairs so vivid my limbs ached with it. In my mind, I was lying on the floor again, the smell of a crushed bouquet a manifestation of my trauma.

“It’s easy for you,” I said bitterly. “But I’m—”

“Too good?” he interjected.

I laughed hollowly, wanting to fold in on myself. Only Jasper could reach that conclusion, seeing something in me I couldn’t touch. I was a sea of red flags—broken, unstable, rotting from the inside out.

“More like pathetic,” I rasped.

“You’ve got a big heart, Milo,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But there is, right?” My voice broke as traitorous tears spilled over. “Something is wrong with it. Wrong with me. Nobody ever stays. They all leave. Everyone leaves.”

Jasper sat beside me, crossing his legs and crushing me against his side.

“I don’t.”

Not yet, I thought sourly, lungs burning like I’d swallowed gasoline.

His arms flexed as he held me close, solid and grounding, the weight of him the only thing keeping me tethered. I shifted, enough to lean my head on his chest, and I could hear his heart pounding. It was frantic, like a bird trapped in a cage, completely at odds with the cool certainty his words carried.

“Forget about her,” Jasper muttered. “She ain’t shit.”

I wasn’t thinking about her at all. I was thinking about him—about how I wouldn’t survive if he ever decided he was done with me, too. I’d imagined it countless times, the way my world would collapse if the only person who didn’t look at me with disgust finally walked away.

My world revolved around every breath of air from Jasper’s lungs. If he stopped breathing, so would I. He was an extension of me, the other half of my soul. In another life, we would’ve been born twins. The bloodied handshake we’d shared wasn’t enough.

I wanted to carve open his chest and live between his ribs.