The Last Piece of His Heart (Lost Boys 3)

“I can’t say who, so don’t ask.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Of course, you weren’t. That’s one of your most endearing characteristics. Anyway, there’s a guy and I don’t want there to be a guy. Not one that I might…”

“Want to fuck?”

“That’s a given.”

“Care about?”

“Exactly. And I can’t care about anyone. Bad for me, worse for them.” He shook his head, watching the fire struggle against a breeze that had picked up. “It’s stupid. And too soon. I didn’t come here to immediately have my every waking thought hijacked by someone I’ve only known for a few days.” He laughed at my wide eyes. “No, it’s not Miller. And I hate to break your heart, but it’s not you either.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that the guy in question is not my type, to put it mildly. An All-American good boy. Warm, gooey, everyone loves him. He’s the human equivalent of a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“So?”

“So? It doesn’t make sense. And yet I can’t stop thinking about him and feeling guilty, because…I may have said some things I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m shocked,” I said into my beer. Holden was a smartass with zero filter.

“Oh, shut up,” he said. “But yes, I stirred up some shit for him that I had no business stirring. I even gave him my number in the event he wants to talk. To me. As if I could actually help somehow.” He snorted a laugh. “It’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“I’m not one hundred percent positive that he and I are on the same page, if you catch my drift. I need to leave it alone. Leave him alone.”

I rolled my eyes and hurled a rock into the fire.

Here we go again.

Both my friends were hellbent on being miserable instead of making a stand for what they wanted.

Holden read my scowl. “You disagree?”

“If you care about him—”

“Let’s not go that far.”

“—then tell him.”

“That proves difficult, since he specifically asked that I never speak to him again. And even if by some miracle he were gay, nothing good can come of something with me. Except for sex. I can do meaningless sex.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “That’s not an offer, by the way.”

I snorted a laugh. A short silence fell, and Holden shivered a little as he took a sip from his flask. I sprayed more lighter fluid over the embers until they flared in a wall of light and heat.

“Is that what they stole from you in Alaska?”

Holden’s head whipped to me. “What…?”

“You said nothing good could come of you being with that guy,” I said. “Is that what they taught you? That you’re no good?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “But it began earlier with my parents. And it’s more complicated—”

“It’s bullshit, is what it is,” I snapped. “Whoever made you think that, no matter when it started, it’s bullshit.”

I finished my beer and strode to the Shack to get two more. I stood over Holden, offering. He looked up at me, gratitude in his eyes, and took one. The flask went into his coat pocket.