Page 64 of Loverboy

“Thanks again for inviting us out. The food was really good.” I turned my attention to Blane, who was waving off a few friends heading out the door.

“So good,” Blane returned the sentiment with a huge smile.

We all started gravitating towards the door, Milo’s head still hung low with his phone in his hands as he fell into step behind us. Some might say I was reading into it too much, but I was acutely aware of the way he’d mentally checked out. Maybe I’d pushed him too hard with the teasing.

I followed Milo to his car to investigate, and nearly walked right into him, the tips of my shoes hitting the back of his boots as he came to a sudden stop.

“Everything okay?” I asked, feeling like a broken record with how often I’d had to check in with him like that in recent weeks.

“Yep,” he answered dryly, taking a few more strides and opening his car door.

I cursed under my breath as he climbed in and slammed the door shut behind him, starting the engine. I smoothed my hands over my slacks, glancing around the parking lot before tapping on the window. He rolled the window down, and I leaned through it, elbows resting on the trim.

“Come on, loverboy. What’s wrong?” I coaxed, pushing up my glasses.

“I said I was good,” he answered pointedly.

“And I already called bullshit,” I quipped.

He frowned.

The thing about my brother was that no matter how aware he was that he was acting like a dumbass, he was physically incapable of stopping himself until he’d run himself into the ground and burned whatever bridge existed. We didn’t have a bridge, the two of us. We had a tree, and we were the roots tangled beneath the earth. Separate above, maybe, but forever bound below.

“We don’t have any good pictures together,” Milo elaborated, looking ashamed.

“Who says they aren’t good?” I argued.

“Me.”

I shrugged. “We both know you’re not a reliable source.”

His chest shook with a suppressed laugh, and he forced his lips into a tight line. It didn’t matter, though, because I’d already won. It was delicate work, walking Milo back down from every cliff he tried to throw himself off of.

“Is that all that’s bothering you?” I lowered my voice, inching into territory that had the potential to set him off all over again.

We stared at each other for a beat, the sound of cars pulling out of the lot filling the space between us. The sun had finished setting by the time we exited the restaurant, Milo’s face shrouded in darkness save for the streaks of light filtering into the car from a nearby street lamp. He looked tortured, and I knew in my bones that I was to blame.

“What did it mean?” His voice was weak, a vulnerability encased within it.

For once, I didn’t need to ask him for context.

Milo hadn’t brought up what had happened between us, and I wasn’t about to bring it up myself because the waters were far too muddy. I wanted to believe that I was doing what I needed to keep him safe from himself and potential heartbreak, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t right. I’d fucked up and made things even more complicated than they already were.

“I was just trying to help,” I bit out. “It’s too soon for you to start seeing someone—you were making a mistake.”

And I don’t want to lose you to someone else again.

Milo’s eyes turned glossy with unshed tears, his chest rising but not falling as the breath audibly caught somewhere in his throat. Regret had me in a death grip, my tongue heavy in my mouth with the weight of the half-truth. But what was the alternative? Telling him I had a momentary lapse in judgment and got too selfish? Admitting that I’d spent all of these years waiting and wishing for him to choose me, because I was the only one who knew how to take care of him?

“Okay.” He exhaled slowly. “Tell me it didn’t mean anything—like Oliver didn’t mean anything.”

“Milo,” I warned roughly.

“Please.”

“…I can’t.”

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