AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And yes, the connection there is amazing.
But it's not just post-orgasm affection.
I want to fuck him all nightandwake up in his bed. I want to screw him in the showerandeat oatmeal on his couch. I want to—
Well, you get the idea.
But it doesn't matter.
It's impossible.
His sister died by suicide.
I shouldn't know. Or maybe I should. What are the rules of social media these days? I follow him on Instagram, sure, but this wasn't on his page.
I had to go looking.
It wasn't hard. I knew her last name, after all, and I knew her likely friends, and I knew where to look.
But I couldn't stop. I found too much.
It was bizarre, reading the thoughts of a dead woman. The familiar, comforting, terrifying thoughts.
But it's not because I've betrayed him. (Have I betrayed him?)
It's because this is where he hurts.
And I can't be the person who tears at the wound.
Maybe that's an excuse. Cowardice. Maybe one of my friends will mention my history and he'll find out.
But then, no one knows.
Only my parents and they—
Well, they have their story.
I have mine.
I have an excuse. It's almost a relief.
But it's not.
Because I like him. All of him. And I want all of it, with him.
It's not fair to decide for him.
But I'm not deciding for him.
I'm deciding for me.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
PATRICK
Fuck.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
