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“Nothing would ever change how I feel about you,” I say softly, my lips moving across his as I speak. “I will always love you, Finn,” I add when he stays silent.
I nibble on his lower lip, pulling it between my teeth, our eyes connected, unwavering, unmoving.
“Do you love me?” I ask, letting him go and kissing the corner of his lips.
“You know I do.”
“Say it.”
His hands tighten against my back, grinding me down against him. “I love you, Landon,” he whispers.
My lips quirk up and I press my lips to his once more, tasting him, letting my tongue trace the outline of his mouth.
His body trembles beneath me, one of his hands sliding down to my lower back, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my jeans.
And we just lie there, me licking at his lips, nibbling on them, kissing them until my dad bellows that dinner is ready.
nine
EIGHT YEARS AGO
FINN
“Hey, Finn,”Basil says, his smile a little sad. “Logan isn’t home yet, and Landon is upstairs sick.”
I run a hand across the back of my neck and nod. “Yeah, he told me. I thought I’d hang with him a little. He said he was bored…”
Basil’s smile widens and the gloomy look on his face disappears. “Oh, he’d love that. I’ll tell Logan where you are when he gets home.”
I nod and make my way up the stairs to Landon’s room. I know where it is. I spend more time here than I do at my house. It’s so warm and comforting here.
Andhe’shere.
I knock on the door and peek in, seeing Landon lying on the bed, his cheeks a little flushed, a blanket pulled up over his shoulders.
“Hey, Finn,” he says, his voice a little weak. God, my heart aches, seeing him like this. I hate it. I’ve only known him a few months and I’m already so far gone.
“I thought I’d come keep you company, if you want.”
He sits up and a cough racks his body. “Yeah, if you’re okay with maybe catching my germs.”
“I’m immune. You can’t get me sick.”
To be honest, not much could keep me away from him. Not even throw up.
I move toward his bed, toeing my shoes off and slipping in next to him, sitting up against the headboard.
He leans into me, his body so fucking warm against mine. God, he’s burning up.
I press my cold hand to his cheek, and he sighs against it.
“I hate being sick,” he says, resting his head on my shoulder and then scooting all the way down until his head is in my lap. There’s no shame here, just total and utter acceptance that this is what it is between us.
I kind of love it.
I stare down at him, his eyes closed, his cheeks red, and I feel butterflies erupt inside of me.
Without thinking, I thread my hand through his hair, pulling on the wavy strands lightly. Landon huffs a contented sigh and curls up closer to me. It should be weird, but it’s not. No, this seems perfectly right.
