“And you don’t?” I ask him softly, brushing the backs of my fingers over his ear.
Milo leans back, away from me, his now wet eyes looking up to the ceiling once more. “Nah…What’s the point?”
“Maybe, even if you don’t, Nik needs help processing it?” I offer.
“Maybe.” He’s silent for a minute, maybe two. “It doesn’t really matter why. I still don’t want to talk about it with him.”
I let him breathe, let his truth breathe between us, for a long minute before asking, “Why?”
“Because I’m still angry with him…for leaving.” He sniffs, puffy red lips twitching as he seems to fight back a feeling. “At myself too,” he whispers jaggedly.
My heart swells in my chest, tender and aching for him. “Milo…”
“I lefther,” Milo says, his voice shaking as his deep eyes lock on mine. “I knew that it got worse for Nadia and me when Nik moved out and that it would get worse for her when I left.” His face falls as he takes quick, shallow breaths. “But I-I-I still left. I left her a-an-anyway.”
“Left who? Nadia?”
He nods urgently, lifting a hand to swipe under his nose as he sniffs, his gaze darting around the room. “Sorry, I—”
“Don’t say sorry,” I tell him. “You have no reason to be sorry.”
“I don’t—I can’t—I don’t think I can talk about this anymore,” he says, his tone urgent.
“Hey, that’s okay.” I move to hug him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “That’s okay,” I say again.
The moment his face nestles against my neck, he begins to cryin earnest, letting out sad, weepy breaths against my skin as his shoulders tremble under my hands.
“I’m so sorry, Milo,” I repeat, over and over, feeling the threat of tears stinging my eyes. This person I’d perceived as a confident, somewhat arrogant, devil-may-care man is really, still, just a hurt boy at his core.
I know my nostalgia can cut deep, what it feels like to be reflecting on the past and wishing for what once was. I never considered how painful it would be for someone raised in a burning house to look back. To fill your lungs with smoke over and over, just to walk through it once more.
Abruptly, Milo pulls away, laughing roughly. “Fuck, sorry,god,this is so fucking—” He sniffs, wiping both hands across his face and covering his eyes. “This issonot what you signed up for.”
“Milo,” I say sternly, grabbing his wrists. He drops his hands to my lap, and I grip tighter, feeling his pulse thunder. “We both know that I have not had many friends. I’ve spent most of my life feeling like an alien, watching people from afar. But you,youare my friend. I amyourfriend. We agreed to that and I’m a woman of my word. You can’t shake me now. I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes fall to the side. “You deserve friends a whole lot better than me.”
“Probably,” I tease, moving to catch his eyes so he sees my smirk. “But I’ll settle for you.”
Milo wipes the last remnants of tears away, turning away from me as he does it.
“Want me to move?” I ask.
He shakes his head, looking back at me. His eyes look brighter, like black-tar pavement after a rainstorm. “Can I tell you something?”
I nod, my eyes narrowing on his subdued but mischievous smile. “Yeah…”
“It might make me sound like a selfish bastard, but I like that you’re careful with everyone else but me. I like feeling special to you, Prudence Welch. I like being your friend.”
I nod slowly, feeling a soft smile tug at my mouth. “Can I tell you something back?”
“Only if it’ll inflate my ego,” he answers, his crooked smirk back in its usual place.
“I like being your friend too, Milo Kablukov. And I’m really glad you’re here.”
Nineteen
Prue
