“You never asked, Jer.”
He stepped toward me, eyes blazing. “I shouldn’t have toask. That’s what friends do—they tell each other shit. Especially when it’s something that big.”
“Fine. You want the truth? I almost married him. I was with Will for years, and I broke it off right before it happened. He sucked. After sex, he made me sit there andrehash everything. Every fucking time. Like it was some performance review I could fail.”
Jer’s jaw ticked, his fists curling at his sides.
“I was ashamed,” I said, swallowing hard but not softening. “Ashamed because he made me feel like I wanted too much. He hated that he couldn’t compete, and guess what? He couldn’t. Because sex is the one time I feel powerful, Jer. The one time I feel safe enough to be exactly who I am. And with him? I felt wrong. I felt small. I felt like I had to apologize for wanting anything at all. And—ugh!” I tugged both hands through my hair, pacing because if I stood still, I’d throw something.
“Friends, Luna?—”
I shoved him, hard enough that his back hit one of the logs stacked against the wall. “Friends don’t miss friends after they fuck,” I fired back.
“Luna—”
“Friends don’t fuck each other in the car.” I closed the space between us again. “Friends don’t keep each other’s secrets from foster homes. Friends don’t— friends don’t make me feel safe when nothing else ever has.”
He opened his mouth again, but I cut him off, louder this time. “YOU ARE SO MUCH MORE THAN A FRIEND TO ME!”
I spun toward the window and stabbed my finger at the dark outline of the house across the snow. “Do you see that? They have a family. Dirks has a mom, a dad, a sister who adore him. That’s his whole fucking safety net right there.”
I turned back, my chest rising and falling so hard it hurt. “I have you, you fucking bastard. I only have you. You’ve been my only family. I have Nova, sure, but she doesn’t even know you’re around. So guess what? I only have you. And you can’t keep pretending that doesn’t mean something.”
I jabbed my finger into his chest. “Get it through your thick-headed skull, you’re my family. You’ve always been my family.”
He didn’t move, instead he stood there, jaw clenched, eyes locked on mine like every word landed squarely in him.
“That’s what Dirks can’t give me. He’ll always be a part of me, part of my soul, my sunshine… but he will never give me my family. Not like you do.”
I stepped closer, pointing to my own chest. “It’s been you since the foster house, Jer. From the second I arrived and he stuck me in that goddamn private room, it was always you. You were the only one who made me feel like I wasn’t alone in there. I hated leaving that foster house because I knew I’d lose the only family I’d ever had. And now that I have you again? If you call me a friend one more time, I’ll fucking hurt you.”
Jer’s mouth ticked up with a low chuckle. “Foster siblings, then?”
“Ugh,” I groaned, flopping back onto the couch and covering my face with my hands.
He sat down beside me, close enough that our knees touched.
“You’re my family too, Lune, and I’m... fuck, I’m bad at this. I don’t know how to be what you want.”
I turned toward him, heat still buzzing under my skin from the fight. “You don’t have to be perfect, Jer. You just have to stay.”
“Alright,” he breathed out. “I’ll do it. For the next few months, I’ll date you. No running off. No ghosting.”
“You mean it?”
“Yeah. But you’re gonna have to help me, Lune. I don’t know how to do this without screwing it up. I’m gonna need you to tell me when I’m fucking up.”
“Then listen when I tell you,” I said quickly, leaning in so my knee pressed against his. “I want dates. Just the two of us. I want to wake up and find you still there. I want to feel like you’re mine even when we’ve got our clothes on.”
His mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile but didn’t trust himself to. “That’s a lot for me, Lune.”
“I know, but I want you anyway. All of you. Not just the part that makes me come so hard I forget my own name, or the part that knows exactly how to piss me off in under thirty seconds. I want the rest, too. The Jer who makes me laugh without trying. The one who still remembers the way I take my coffee. The one who knows the shit in my head before I even say it.”
He dragged a hand over his face, groaning quietly. “Alright. I’ll give you that. I’ll date you, for real. But you have to promise me something back.”
“What?”
“That when I panic or fuck it up—and I will—you won’t give up on me. You’ll remind me why I’m here.”
