I chew the inside of my lip. It’s true that, sometimes, I know what Matty is thinking before he does. It’s the same with Ayla. We’ve all known each other long enough. We’re family to each other, and weird psychic connections are one of the perks.
“Okay,” I say. “So what’s the bad pattern I’m repeating?”
Matty grins. “None of them!”
I tilt my head to the side. “Excuse me?”
“Well, you’re getting close to repeating old mistakes,” he laughs. “Joey is nearly unavailable. But unlike all the other times, when you pined over guys who weren’t interested in love, you’re going for it with Joey. You’re telling him how you feel and risking everything, and that might not mean that you’ll end up happily married in the end, but it does mean you’ve grown, Milo.”
I glance at the rose. “So if Joey says he can never talk to me again and walks out the door, then what, this is a success?”
“Do you think he’s going to do that?”
“No,” I admit.
“And do you think he’s dangerous or that he’d hurt you?”
“Definitely not,” I say forcefully. “Joey would absolutely never hurt me.”
I’m certain of that. He might have made mistakes with his family, but I know Joey’s nature. He’s got too much integrity, too much goodness at the core of him, to ever follow in his family’s footsteps.
“He’s… gentle,” I say, smiling while I think about the little gestures of care he shows me.
“Good,” Matty says, then points the little clay figure at me again. “You know what you want, Milo. It doesn’t mean that you’ll get it, but it does mean that you owe it to yourself to try.”
* * *
When Joey shows up a couple hours later, my heart rate immediately spikes. I’m putting myself on the line in a way I haven’t before, for him or really for anyone. But then he offers me a half-smile, and he pulls me into a tight embrace, and the familiar warmth eases me.
Joey likes me. I can see it on his face, etched into the creases by his eyes and over the golden tan of his cheeks. I’m still wrestling with insecurities, but I don’t doubt for a second that Joey honestly cares about me.
“I picked up some beer,” I say. My hand travels down Joey’s arm; then my fingers linger at his wrist. “Want one?”
“Sure,” he says. He rubs the back of his head, which I know is kind of a hesitant gesture. He wears a flannel with the sleeves rolled up, revealing a splash of color from his tattoos, and a familiar pair of worn jeans. He’s got his bag with him, too, and I wonder if he’s brought a book so we can read together, which makes me smile.
We are definitely a match. No doubt about that part.
“Did you work today?” I ask Joey as I turn and hand him a bottle of beer.
He twists the cap off, his eyes away from mine. “Yeah, I had a full day, and I took on a walk-in.”
“You’ve been keeping busy.”
He nods. “It’s good for me. I like working.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say, thinking about all the research I have to finish. I grab myself a beer, too, and when I look back, Joey’s brow is furrowed.
“I like distraction from work, too,” I add, then push my foot playfully against his.
It sometimes takes him a second to loosen up, but he always responds when I’m flirty. He does smile weakly. “Yeah, distractions are nice,” but something feels off about it.
My stomach tightens. The plan is to flirt and hang out a while, then have the talk and bring him to my bed if it goes well. But Joey’s face is still tight with concern, and I can practically feel a wall going up between us.
I sit down at the dining table and push aside a pile of junk mail. I almost panic, but then Joey sits down across from me, and a whiff of his scent hits my nose, and the words come rushing out.
“I’ve been thinking more about what you said the other night.”
So much for keeping my cool.
