“Do what?”
“Convince me to leave.”
“I know that, Prue. I didn’t want—”
“Despite yourveryimpressive efforts…Bonus points for telling me about all of the places you’d love to take me to…That was very clever. I don’t know if that was Dad’s idea or yours but, nice touch.”
“Prue, c’mon, don’t—”
“You should go.”
Milo shakes his head. “He was going to tell you tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
“He was. And then I was—”
“You were going towhat? Be here to pick up the pieces? Pretend you didn’t know? Tell me you’ll fix it before taking off in a month, or maybe less? Howkindof you.”
“No! I—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Itdoesmatter,” he says, moving closer to me, but stopping beyond arm’s reach. “Prue, I’m in—”
“Itrustedyou, Milo,” I interrupt. “That’s hard for me.”
“I know, Prue. I’m—”
“I trusted you with my mom, with my body, with my h—” I stop myself, barely, before letting the wordheartslip out. “I can’t do this. You need to go…I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“Prue, wait. Just listen to me, please. I want to stay,” he says, sniffing back tears of his own. “For the first timeever,I want to stay. Here. With you. To help and…Pleaselet me—”
“That’s not fair,” I interrupt him once more. “You can’t just…I’m sorry but…Ican’thear that right now. I can’t…I don’t…I need you to go. This is way too much.” I walk toward the back door without another glance, knowing that if I turn to see him, I won’t have the strength to close it behind me.
“Prue, please, wait!” Milo shouts seconds before I shut the door.
Then, there’s nothing but silence. Lonely, horrible, sickening silence until the outside wall creaks under what I suspect is Milo’s weight leaning against it. I turn without thought, prepared to open the door and…well, I’m not sure. I’ve never felt this confused before, unsure of what to do.
My hand moves to the doorknob, ready to yell or cry or kiss or scream or plead with him until we’re worn out but laughing again and I feel like there’s some semblance of hope for a way forward.
But, I hesitate. And when I open the door, the porch is empty.
It was just the wind.
He’s gone.
I asked Milo Kablukov to leave when all I’ve wanted for weeks now is to ask him to stay. And, he listened.
Twenty-eight
Milo
“Milo?” Nadia callsout, looking at me across the brewery’s emptied parking lot. I walk toward her, not slowing my step as she tosses her cigarette to the gravel and extinguishes it under her shoe. “Mi, what’s wrong?”
I throw my arms around her and pull her to my chest, tucking my chin down to press my face into her smoke-soaked hair.
“Hey…” she whispers, tentatively reaching to hug me back. She stretches herself, her hands finding my shoulder blades and holding steady. “What’s going on?” The gentle way she rhythmically pats my back calms my aching heart for a second before I remember Prue’s last words to me all over again. “Mi, you’re scaring me. What’s—”
