“I don’t want repayment. I like helping you. It’s what friends do. And we’re friends, right?”
“More than. You know that.” I reached a hand toward him, but he didn’t take it.
“Do I? Because you’re not acting the most like it right now.”
“Sorry. It’s because we’re friends—boyfriends—that I don’t want you playing George. I don’t want you to have to rescue me.” I wasn’t the same guy who had walked into this game store all those weeks ago, and I needed to prove that to both of us. “I want to be the one protecting you sometimes too. And that includes from creeps.”
“Milo.” Jasper surprised me by touching my arm. “I don’t need protecting. I don’t. And you don’t have to handle this yourself.”
The air crackled, a charge sweeping through the room, reaching my stubborn brain. Handle. Yourself. And in that instant, I knew what I had to do, and maybe I’d known it all along because certainty settled over me like a heavy cloak.
“I think I know what I have to do.” But it wasn’t going to be easy, and as with most things, I didn’t want an audience. “I need to go.”
“Right now? Alone?” Jasper dropped his hand as his mouth went slack.
“I’ve got some stuff to work out in my head.” What I really needed was a long, cold walk to grant me clarity. I wasn’t like Jasper, human search engine for a brain, quick-firing neurons. I needed to think. Also I knew he’d try to talk me out of this plan before I even got it settled. “Trust me?”
“I’m trying.”
“Fair enough.” I grabbed my coat.
“Milo. I hope you’re not making a mistake,” he warned.
My heart galloped because I hoped that too. But if it was a mistake, it was going to be my own mistake. And it was Jasper who made me brave. I was finally, finally going to solve everything, and this was a chance I had to take.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jasper
The door shut softly behind Milo. No slamming. No screaming. It wasn’t even a storming off as much as a bid for space, which even if I wasn’t as introverted as him, I did sort of understand. I’d grown up in a big family with space at a premium. Finding a spot to be alone to think had been a challenge at times. But with Milo, I wanted to be together. A team, like we’d been earlier. The dynamic duo, solving all Milo’s problems. Him shutting me out hurt. If he didn’t want the same kind of partnership I did, I wasn’t sure where that left us.
But mainly, I was super worried about Milo. As I cleaned up the last of the card mess, I kept debating exactly how worried I should be. He was a big guy, sober, on a clear night that for once was showing signs of spring. If he needed a walk in the dead of night, so be it.
However, his parting words had been rather…ominous. I took my phone out. No messages. Should I text someone? My mom? His? A friend? I didn’t want to call for backup this late at night without a good reason. I didn’t think Milo would do anything too rash. For all that he could brood, he’d never shown a tendency to self-harm, but I was still worried.
I stacked boxes and wiped the table with quick, jerky movements. And maybe some of my concern was because I had a strong feeling where he was headed and why he hadn’t told me. He knew I’d stop him. Which I probably still would. I knew exactly how long it would take Milo to walk there at a slow pace, so I’d let him get a head start, finish up here, then go talk some sense into him.
Thump. I was almost done cleaning when I tripped over Milo’s backpack. Heck. He had to be really worked up to have forgotten it. His sketchbook was under it because he’d been noodling with a drawing earlier while I’d been busy doing stuff for Arthur to close up the store. When I lifted up the backpack, the motion pulled the sketchbook open. And what I saw took my breath away.
Me. Over and over again, me. Me as the Frog Wizard, me as a regular guy in my hoodie, happy, joking, quiet, sexy, a myriad of different moods. I crouched low to get a better look, transfixed. I should have shut it fast, but I couldn’t. Because there on those pages was love, bold and fearless. He’d said the word the night before, but I’d been half-convinced that was sex talking. But here on these pages, his pencil didn’t lie.
He saw me like no one else had ever seen me. Saw beyond the joker and funny guy to the parts of me that were softer, more serious. Vulnerable. More like him.