Page 65 of Beautiful When He Breaks

Luca laughs, and this time I’m glad he does because otherwise I might actually start hyperventilating. “No, for the love of God. Do not workshop sexuality confessions before breakfast.”

“Then what?”

“You calm down.” He points at me again, annoyingly captain-like even in his room. “You pay attention. You stop running from every feeling the second it stops being convenient. You let yourself be honest with yourself first. And if, after that, you still want to tell him, then you do it carefully and sober and not while somebody’s changing Mila’s diaper.”

I make a face. “That feels too specific.”

“You live in a house full of interruptions. I’m being practical.”

I huff out a laugh and shake my head. “You really always suspected?”

“Since before Mila,” he says. “You were never fully straight about Julian.”

I throw a pillow at him. He catches it against his chest without effort, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“This is why nobody likes quarterbacks,” I mutter.

“No, people love quarterbacks. They just hate when we’re right.”

The room goes quiet again, but now it feels easier. Less like a confession booth and more like… I don’t know. A place where I can actually think. The panic in me is still there, but it’s no longer this formless, shame-soaked thing.

I look toward the door, then back at him. “Do you think I’m going to ruin this?”

Luca’s answer comes fast enough that I know he doesn’t have to think about it. “Not if you stop lying to yourself.”

I sit with it for a second, then nod once. As I stand to leave, Luca tosses the pillow back onto the bed and says, “One more thing.”

I pause. “What?”

He gives me a crooked smile. “Welcome, I guess.”

“To what?”

He spreads both hands in a grand little gesture. “The deeply inconvenient world of not being straight enough for your own peace.”

I actually laugh, full and tired and more relieved than I want to admit. “You’re such a dick.”

“And yet, you came to me.”

“Against my better judgment.”

“Clearly your judgment needs a coach.”

I shake my head and head for the door, but just before I open it, I look back at him. “Thanks.”

Luca’s expression softens for real then, all the teasing falling away. “Anytime,” he says. “And Eli?”

“Yeah?”

“When you’re ready to stop acting like this is the end of the world, it might actually turn into something good.”

I don’t answer that, mostly because I can’t. The hope in it is too much, too soon, and too dangerous to touch without everything in me shaking loose again.

So, I just nod, slip out into the quiet hall, and head back toward my room with my heart still beating too fast and my whole life somehow feeling even more complicated than it did an hour ago.

20

Julian