Louis holds my gaze. “I’ve spent my whole life with him, only him. A girl has never gotten in the way or stolen his time the way you have. I’ve had my best friend, my brother, and my boyfriend all to myself, but now I’m sharing the one person who would kill for me with someone else, and it scares me.”
Shit. This can’t be good. “I’ll talk to him, tell him?—”
Louis stands up straight, shaking his head. “No. Listen to me, Ro,” he pleads, his eyes burning into mine. He reaches out, taking my hand in his and squeezing tightly. “It scares me because I know he’s all in. You are it for him, which means you and I have to be besties now, and I’m scared you won’t want that.”
A tear slips out. “I don’t have siblings, I only have my mom and mytía, but Louis, I would love to be your bestie.”
His lips quirk as he pulls me into his arms, and I hug him tightly. “Please take care of him just like he has always cared for me. He’s so far gone for you that if you decided you didn’t want him, I’m pretty sure it would break him into a million pieces.”
I don’t know why I’m crying like this. “It would break me too.”
He squeezes me tighter, and we both exhale together. He pulls back, his green eyes still glossy and full of emotion. It’seasy to see how much he loves his brother, and I love that. I love how much the Sinclairs love and support one another without hesitation. It’s a beautiful thing, made more so when I know they’d do the same for me. The realization makes me want to scream from the rooftops how much I love Dawson, but I can’t until I tell him.
“Do you love him?”
My lip trembles as I hold the eyes of the brother of the man I love. My heart is pounding harder than ever as the silence engulfs the air around us. I thread my fingers with his, and in a quiet voice, I say, “Let me tell you my own story.”
His lips tip up, that same crooked little grin that always reminds me of Dawson—smug and stupidly heart-stealing. God, I adore it.
“There was a girl,” I begin softly, looking back to see if Dawson is still in his room. When I verify he is, I whisper, “Who met a boy on the night her father died. The worst night of her life…except for one impossible, shining moment. Him.”
His eyes widen as tears pool in my eyes.
“She prayed—or, really, begged—the universe for just one chance to explore what sparked between them. Because even in the middle of her deepest grief, he was the light she clung to. And she would walk through every ounce of that pain again if it meant she got to relive even a second of what she felt with him that night.”
Louis reaches for my hands, squeezing them in his large ones as a tear spills down my cheek. He exhales, and then with all the love in his eyes, he whispers, “Thank you for giving him a chance. I know he’s a lot.”
I snort at that. “He is, but he’s grown on me.”
“Like a fungus?”
I shrug. “I was going to say like a wart.”
I mean, I may love the guy, but I’m not going to go too soft on him.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Dawson
“Are you ready to head home?”
Ambrosia is checking her socials when she glances over, her lips quirking up at one side. She unfortunately changed from her robe to a pair of leggings and an oversized Bullies sweatshirt. She has one of my beanies on her head, her hair in two full braided pigtails. She looks so cute, and while I want to get her back into her robe with nothing underneath, I’m not ready to go home yet.
Not when I heard what I did in the kitchen.
“Do you have somewhere to go?”
“Yeah, just a small detour.”
She shrugs, setting her phone in her lap. “Let’s go.”
I flash her a grin as I bypass the interstate exit and head toward school. I can still feel my heart exploding in my chest like it did when I heard Louis open up to Ambrosia. Listen, I adore my brother, but it was Ambrosia who had me breathless and holding the doorframe for support.
I’m pretty fucking sure she loves me.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she says, pulling me from my thoughts. I reach over, threading my fingers with hers. She holds our hands in her palm, and I can’t stop the little smirk that moves across my lips.
