Page 66

"About Evan being my ex." He drops his head as he goes on. "About me being bi. And now the walls are slowly crumbling.” He lets out an exhausted, bone-deep sigh.

"You're scared to come out to them?" He nods quickly. "Oh, Kieran." I put my hand on his shoulder, drawing slow circles with my thumb. I can’t believe I didn’t know this was weighing on him, but of course.

"What if they're secret homophobes? Biphobes. Whatever you want to call it." His voice breaks, and so does my heart for him. "Then this place won't be… mine anymore."

I watch his inner fight, and I wish there was something I could do to make this easier on him. It’s a fight I can’t fight for him, though. I can only wait on the sidelines and cheer, be there for him if he needs to be picked up.

"But what if it turns out to be even better?" I point out. Slowly, he turns his head towards me. "Kieran, these people have known you for over a year now. And I don't want to burst your bubble or anything, but maybe in your head you are a… teeny little more straight-presenting than you are in reality."

"Hey." He pouts, but subtly shifts and moves closer. "I am so straight-presenting. You should see me watch football and drink beer and… all the hetero-manly stuff."

I stare at him, unimpressed. "Straight men don't usually flirt with other men. Shocking, I know. It's actually one of the things I disliked about you in the beginning. The fact that you flirt with absolutely everyone."

"It's just my personality." He shrugs, but a worried crease forms between his eyebrows.

"I know that now."

"My personality is the reason you were annoyed with me?"

"Maybe annoyed is a strong word," I giggle and subtly shift closer too, until our thighs touch. "But if you flirt with everyone, it's hard to know when you're being serious about it."

"I'm always serious about it when I flirt with you."

“Oh.” Heat creeps into my cheeks. "That's good to know, I guess."

"I like you, Brooke. I don't think I've ever made a secret of that."

"You haven't." I let out a deep sigh. "I like you too, Kieran. Even if I was a bitch to you."

For a moment, he lets the words hover between us. Then he chuckles lowly. "It’s okay, I was kind of into it.” He takes a deep breath. “And I like them too." He nods toward the window.

"A different kind of like." He quickly adds before I can even ask him to clarify. "Not the same like as I have for you. More on a sibling level. And I think it's reciprocated."

"Of course it is.” Now I turn completely to him, giving him my full attention instead of staring at his reflection. “I know it's scary, Kieran. But let me repeat: they've known you for a year. If they love you as a friend and person, they will still love you once they know everything."

"You're right." He lowers his head, letting his longer hair fall into his face. "On a logical level, I know it. But my heart is way too scared of losing more people who mean a lot to me."

"You know we're on your side here, right?" He slowly turns his head toward me. "If you ask Evan, he won't tell anyone he's your ex. As long as you don't go out there and get yourself a boyfriend, they never have to know."

"I don't want a boyfriend," Kieran says in a whiny voice. And his gaze turns intense. "I want a girlfriend. A very specific one."

"Life is seldom about what we want."

"But..."

"How about we revisit this particular conversation once I can be sure you’re not delirious anymore?" I don’t think his fever will return, but it doesn’t mean he’s well enough for us to have this conversation yet.

"Promise?" He holds up his pinky to me.

"Promise." I hook it with mine and give it a short squeeze. "Now, how about we try to get some more soup into you?"

"And Caleb's pastries," he murmurs against Dick's fur and gets up with the golden retriever in his arms. "Oof. You've gotten heavy," he says lovingly, presses a kiss to the side of Dick's head, and sets him down. “That’s okay, means there’s more to love. No bodyshaming intended.”

"One of the pastries," I agree and pat his shoulder as I brush past him. After the kind of conversation we just had, he deserves one.

"So, what kind of work did you bring?" He nods at the laptop I’ve set up on his dining table. "And why did you come over anyway? Wait, you told me already, but your answer got lost in my fever-brain."

"I was going to ask you a question—or maybe three million—about setting up social media for the shelter," I confess and take the pot of soup out of his fridge to warm it up for both of us. I’ve got to hand it to the disgusting smoothie, it keeps my immune system strong enough that I didn’t even catch a cough while taking care of Kieran.