Page 87 of Loverboy

So why didn’t it make me happy?

The answer was that I was unashamedly greedy. The fact that he had to go to school and work was unbearable as it was, and the thought of moving into a space where I’d have to share even more of him pissed me off. If we woke up and discovered the rest of the population had mysteriously disappeared, I’d be in paradise.

But I couldn’t ask him to stay here. It was that same overbearing greed that had been the ruination of every other relationship I’d had, and this time, I was putting in double the effort not to let it rear its ugly head.

“Mom wants us to come over for dinner this week.”

The words made me stall, a few pictures slipping out of my hands.

“Oh,” I said quietly.

He searched my face. “Are you up for it?”

I wasn’t. I might never be.

“What if she knows?” I panicked.

“Knows what?”

The world knew us as brothers, and the thought of being perceived filled me with dread. As quickly as he’d suggested it, I’d already begun imagining all of the different ways it could go wrong.

“We don’t have to say anything,” Jasper offered.

“You want me to be a secret,” I accused.

“Do I look like I’ve ever cared about what other people think?”

My mouth opened and closed.

“Exactly, so shut up.”

My stomach twisted. I wanted to believe him so badly, but no amount of reassurance would ever be enough. I always needed more.

Until I made people sick of me.

“We’ll be fine,” he added reassuringly.

We. Because my life hadn’t ended when I swallowed an entire bottle of pills. Because even though I fought him every step of the way, he was always waiting for me to come out the other side.

Still, I couldn’t let it go.

“You don’t have to worry,” I said, insecurity leaking into every word. “She has to love you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He sounded offended.

“You’re her blood,” I said shakily. “I’m not. She doesn’t have to love me.”

She would find out about us and be disgusted, but she’d still have to love her son. Her real one. If she disapproved, Jasper might end things before they even had a chance to begin. Someone I loved would be slipping through my fingers all over again.

Jasper’s face softened, and he scooted closer to me. His fingers ghosted over my knee tentatively before settling on a familiar squeeze meant to tether me to him, and I fucking hated how easily it worked every single time.

He grabbed my head and pushed me into his chest, peppering my hair with aggressive kisses. I squealed and wriggled in his arms, my complaints muffled against his shirt, and my heart couldn’t decide if it was breaking or mending. I only fought for a moment before going lax in his arms, both of our breathing laboured as he held me tight.

“No,” he murmured. “She doesn’t have to love you. But that’s what makes it so special, Milo. She chose you. We both did.”

38

Milo