He Made Me Stay

I swallow and nod. “I do.”

“This weekend.” His palm ghosts over my dick. “Stay the night.”

Images of us in this bed, late at night, naked and writhing has me nearly forgetting my own name. I buck my hips toward his hand, wanting the feel the power of his hand wrapped around me.

“Promise,” he pleads.

I grip his wrist, pulling him to me. “I promise.”

He rewards me by stroking me over my jeans. I groan against his lips, so close to coming, it’s embarrassing.

“Kit,” I rasp out. “I want you to fuck me.”

He pulls his hand away, kissing me gently. “We have all year, quark.”

We only have tonight.

Well, and tomorrow because his mom wants to meet mine.

And this weekend because I promised him.

“I have to go,” I whisper, hating how my chest locks up. “I…I have to go.”

Before I can slip out of the bed, he fists my shirt. “Jasper, stay.”

It’s like he knows I have an expiration date.

No one knows.

So why does it feel like he’s trying to keep me tethered to the world I no longer belong to?

“It’s meatloaf night,” I say dumbly. “Mom will be upset if I miss it.”

His smile fades and his brows furl as he watches me slide out of the bed. I right my clothes and mess with my hair. My dick has softened once my thoughts turned dark.

“I’ll text you later.”

I nod and start for the door. Before I leave, I sweep my stare over his body, settling at the way his dick strains in his cargo pants and the way his shirt has ridden up to expose his monitor on his abdomen.

“Are you low?” I ask, though I don’t exactly know all the lingo.

“High off you.” He snorts. “I’ll be okay.”

His answer has me hesitating by the door. Finally, I release a sigh and give him a small wave. I hurry down the stairs. His family is in the kitchen all cooking. I peek my head inside and clear my throat.

“You leaving, hon?” Leesa asks.

“Um, yeah.” I fidget, unable to meet her eyes. “We, uh, studied a lot. Kit seems tired. Maybe you want to check on him.”

She smiles, exchanges a look I don’t interpret with Tad, and then hurries past me. “Thanks, Jasper. See you tomorrow.”

The ride home is like waking up from a Julian dream. In those dreams, he laughs and teases me. He pokes at me. He tries to get me to smile. But when I wake, I’m reminded he’s dead and I’m all alone. Half of a whole. Barely breathing.

I pull into the driveway behind Mom’s vehicle and climb out. Rather than reaching for my pill bottle, I pull out the pin Kit gave me this morning. I’m still studying it when I walk into the living room.

The house smells like meatloaf and memories of a better time. I want to walk back outside, running far, far away. Instead, I carry my feet toward the kitchen where Dad is working on a salad while Mom fusses with a meat thermometer.

“Smells good,” I rumble.

Both their heads snap to mine, several emotions flipping over their features. Confusion. Elation. Sadness. Relief. Why are they looking at me this way?

“I spoke to Dr. Strong,” Mom says, her features settling on happy. “She’s a lovely lady. Very friendly. They invited us over for dinner tomorrow night.”

“I didn’t know you made a new friend,” Dad adds. “Glad to hear it, though.”

Both of them watch me with an expectant, hopeful expression.

“I, uh,” I mutter. “He’s nice. I like him.”

“Did you kiss him?” Mom teases.

My skin burns red-hot and I shoot Dad an exasperated look. He smirks and shrugs.

“Carla, honey, leave the boy alone,” Dad finally says.

“What?” she whines, holding her very pregnant belly. “I’ve been waiting for him to find a new boyfriend. The last one was Henry. Henry was sweet, but not sweet enough for my boy.”

Henry and I dated up until my brother’s death. After that night, I slowly cut him away from me along with everyone else.

“Kit’s not my boyfriend.” I frown at her, trying to ignore her giddy expression. “He’s not.”

“Don’t lie,” she chides. “I can always tell when you lie.”

Dad chuckles when my face flashes hot again. “Are you wearing his shirt? Because it’s a size too small and quite…colorful.”

“Can we eat already?” I grumble as I place my hand on her stomach.

The twins are active, rolling and kicking like usual. It makes me wonder if Julian and I were that way. Did we bounce around her womb like hyper kittens?

“I love you,” Mom whispers, covering my hand with hers.

Her words cut into me in a way that stings. I recoil and retreat away from her, making a beeline for the table. I’ve just settled at it when I notice her shooting Dad a helpless look. Her eyes are watery and her lip wobbles.