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But then he rips his mouth off mine, aggressive breaths flying in and out of him as my eyes peel open. I catch him glaring behind me, and just as my face is turning, he stumbles back, putting space between us.
Oh right. The window.
We were literally sucking face right next to the front window of our house. The one that looks out onto the street.
It’s highly unlikely that anyone saw us, or that anyone is even out there, since it’s Christmas and snowing like crazy.
But obviously those rationalizations don’t matter to a father who just made out with his son.
Adoptive son. Let’s not forget that part.
James rakes his hands through his hair, shoulders hunching over as his fingers scrape down his face and he holds it, mumbling behind his palms, “Jesus, what have I done?”
My lips part, as if there’s any possible way I could speak right now. Of course, nothing comes out.
I have no words… No comforts to give.
He may have initiated it, but this is still my fault. I’m the one who’s manifested my crush into a reality. And while in most other situations that would be a great fucking thing, in this one, it’s nothing short of a terminal disaster.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, shaking his head, refusing to make eye contact. “I’m so fucking sorry…”
And then he storms out of the room, racing up the stairs as fast as his legs will carry him.
Leaving me standing among the shattered ruins of my family and broken glass.
