“And have you ever found someone like that?”
“I hope so.” His eyes scan mine. “I hope I’ve found her, but I don’t know how long it might take or whether it’ll be worth it for you when we get there.”
It costs him such effort to tell me I want to reassure him, but I force myself to pause, to think. The weeks we’ve spent together have careened from confusing to joyous to terrifying.
What he’s talking about will require dedication and patience. Our needs will always be out of step.
He’s found the person he wants in me, but have I found the one I want in him?
I close my eyes and let my hand find the edge of his jaw, feeling its way until I can wrap around his neck, plunging my fingers into his hair, tugging at the strands until he makes a growling noise deep in the back of his throat. I try to imagine moving to another, less complicated relationship and the devastation is immediate.
The people I care most about have never made my life easy, but they’re the ones who make it worthwhile. “I don’t have any other plans.”
He tickles me and I squeal with laughter, feeling closer to him than I can ever remember with another boy.
“Why don’t you have plans?” he asks, and I take a few seconds to understand he’s not joking.
“It’s hard to look ahead when you’re always struggling to get through today.”
I think he’s tuned out, my brief reality check jolting him out of our shared peace, but when he speaks again, it sounds more like he’s readying himself for another confession.
“Can I ask you something serious? Since I’m in a full disclosure mood?”
“Go ahead.”
“Ant said you need someone to take care of you.”
I wriggle my butt, shifting position on his lap, suddenly awkward. “I knew you were talking about me behind my back,” I mutter.
“Just the usual older brother warnings. You hurt my little sister and I’ll kill you and roast your corpse in the fiery pits of hell.”
“That’s standard, is it?”
He doesn’t answer my rhetorical question. “Is it true?”
“I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”
“This isn’t about your capabilities. It’s about what would improve your life.” He picks my hand from his shoulder, linking his fingers through mine. “Because I would very much like to take care of you. From the moment you wake in the morning to when you fall asleep at night.”
The flood of warmth through my core is its own answer. A rush of desire that’s not sexual, or not entirely sexual. Just wanting and longing and a gross outpouring of need for what he describes.
But I know that easy attachment makes me vulnerable. I don’t need an older brother looking out for my welfare to teach me that. “And what does that entailexactly?”
“It means I’d make your decisions for you. I’d wake you, clean you, dress you.”
Between each short statement, Maddox strokes my hair back from my forehead, the movement soft and soothing, lulling me into an agreeable state, like physical hypnosis.
“I would select your food, tell you when to eat, plan out your day. Every moment I’m awake would be dedicated to making sure you had what you needed.”
“And what if I didn’t like what you picked out for me to wear?”
“But you would. Because I wouldn’t be selecting something to match my tastes or for the hell of it.” His fingers clench, catching mine harder between them. “I would only ever pick out something you’d adore. A comfortable outfit when you need to relax, something fancy when you need to shine.”
Maddox tilts his head forward. The angle means I can’t read his expression. Can’t see what’s flickering behind the intensity of his sharp blue eyes.
But I can feel his arms tighten around me, the slowing of his breath as he waits for an answer.
“You’d take every decision away from me?”
