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He raises a finger, gently resting it against my lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

I nod since apparently I’ve forgotten how to form actual words. Not a great sign considering words are how I make a living.

“Did you ever think about me?”

Every day.

The answer presses against my tongue, desperate to be spoken. Instead, all I can focus on is the warmth of his thumb rubbing my bottom lip.

“Did you miss me?” he asks quietly. “Even if it was only a little?”

Did I miss him? Did I miss him?

My entire world stopped making sense the day he was no longer a part of it.

Did I miss him?! What kind of question is that?!

“Let me go, Milo,” I say instead, wielding the words like a blade meant for him, only to feel the sharpened edge cut me too.

The thing is, I’m angry with him, but I’m furious at myself.

Yes. Yes, I missed him. Every single day.

Every birthday.

Every holiday.

Every accomplishment I had to celebrate without him by my side.

Every terrible day I had to endure alone when all I wanted was to hear his voice.

Still, what good would it do to admit any of that now? I have a life now. A good life. A successful life. So why does standing this close to him make it feel like something has been missing all along?

“Max.” His voice lowers as he finally notices the unshed tears clinging to my lashes.

“Move, Milo,” I order, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“Max, I didn’t mean—”

“Hell is full of well-intentioned people, Milo. I don’t care what you meant,” I say before placing my hand on his chest to move him away.

I don’t even have to put much strength behind the shove. Milo gives me back my breathing room the second he realizes he’s made me uncomfortable.

I cross the street and walk over to my car, sensing Milo hurrying behind me just to make sure I get there safe and sound.

It’s always been like this with us. Even when I was at the point of combustion, angry beyond measure with him, Milo always made sure I was safe, even if I didn’t want him around.

The memory of how good he always was to me takes the wind out of my sails and dulls my fury somewhat. So much so that, before I reach my car, I turn around to face him again.

“Why would you ask me that? Of all the things you could have asked, why that?”

Milo bows his head as if ashamed, then forces himself to look me in the eye, but not before bridging the distance between us again, stopping a respectful few feet away.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked you that. What I should’ve said was that I missed you. I’ve missed you every day since that night. I’ve missed all of you. Your smile. Your temper. Even your sadness.” His voice takes on a raw, vulnarble edge as he searches my face. “I miss you, Max. And maybe it’s stupid on my part, but I was hoping that maybe you missed me just as much.”

Tears threaten to spill at the sincerity in his voice.