Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Starlet

The following morning, I woke up with a trail of kisses down my neck from Milo. I smiled, feeling his skin pressed against mine. He rolled over so he was on top of me, pinning me down to the mattress. His mouth grazed over mine. “Hey, Teach?” he whispered, infusing his warmth against my body.

“Yes?”

“Can we play hooky today from life?”

I looked up at him and giggled. “No, we can’t play hooky, Milo.”

He grumbled and fell against me, running his mouth across my collarbone. “Please? Just one day. One day with you and me being you and me?” I closed my eyes and lightly moaned from the sensation of his kisses. “We can call in sick.”

“We aren’t sick.”

Cough-cough . He covered his mouth.

I laughed. “Why do I think that was a fake cough?”

“Oh, no. There’s nothing fake about this. I’m coming down with something drastically,” he groaned as he dramatically flopped back to his side of the bed. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “I think I have a fever, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, come here and check,” he said, placing his hands against my hips and lifting me into his lap without any effort at all. I didn’t think I’d ever get over how easily he moved me around.

I straddled him and placed my palm on his forehead. “You feel fine to me.”

He frowned. “That’s probably because you’re coming down with the same bug as me.” Cough-cough .

I placed my hands against his bare chest, leaned in, and kissed his lips. “We’re not going to play hooky today, Milo.”

“I want to spend the day with you,” he whispered, his voice low and timid. His eyes flashed with a splash of tenderness that made my heart skip a few beats.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I warned.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to make me agree to do bad things.”

He pulled me closer to him and lay me against his body. His lips brushed against my earlobe. “Please do bad, bad things with me, Star.” His tongue slipped from his mouth, and he trailed it along my ear. “Please?”

I closed my eyes and rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeats. “What would we even do if we played hooky?”

“I don’t know…each other?”

I laughed, feeling him harden against my leg. Clearly not all parts of Milo were sick. Some were wide awake and ready to play. “We are not skipping school to have sex, Milo.”

He pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“Story of my life until you.”

“We could take the Amtrak to Chicago,” he offered. “It would be an hour and a half trip. We could shut off our phones from the world and pretend it’s only us and do all kinds of tourist bullshit and laugh and have fun and just be us. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Just being us for a little bit of time?”

I pushed myself up slightly and studied his eyes. As I looked at him, I saw it—his need to escape for a little while. Even though he was seemingly playful with it, I could tell he needed a break. I should’ve been more responsible. I should’ve told him we could take a summer trip to Chicago when we were allowed to be us fully. I should’ve told him how important it was that we didn’t skip school. I should’ve told him no.

Instead, I laid myself back down against his chest, listening to his heart once more, and I said, “Now that you mention it, there is a little tickle in the back of my throat.”

I could feel his smile, even with my eyes closed, as he said, “We can’t go to school. It would be irresponsible to spread our germs around.”

“That’s true. I guess we’ll have to spread them around Chicago.”

“That’s a really responsible thing to do.”

I pushed myself up slightly and locked eyes with him. “Will your dad be okay? Are you sure you don’t want to spend the day with him?”

Milo shrugged. “We don’t really do that.”

“But maybe—”

“We don’t do that, Star.” He cut in, signaling that I was crossing a line. I didn’t bring up the topic again. Clearly, his relationship with his father was complicated, and it wasn’t my place to add my input. My only job was to make sure Milo was doing all right, and if that meant playing hooky, then we’d do that.

***

I convinced him to bring his cane to Chicago.

He’d been so self-conscious about it that I figured trying to use it in a different city might help him. It was clear that he didn’t need the cane as much as he might in the future, but I figured any practice would be helpful.

The moment we stepped off the train, we shut off our phones. I’d never had a day when I completely disconnected from the world, and I was looking forward to it more than I thought possible.

The streets of Chicago were busy with traffic and pedestrians moving around in a hurry. Tourists surrounded one of the biggest attraction sights—the Bean or as it was officially known as, Cloud Gate .

“This was going to be one of the stops on my imaginary road trip,” Milo mentioned, snapping photos of me in front of the Bean. I smiled widely, posing on one leg as he snapped away.

“You’ve made up actual stops?” I asked.

“No. Just a few random stops I wanted to see across the states. I’m shocked I’ve never been here, actually, seeing how it’s so close.”

“You know what we should do? Make up a road trip map together and mark down all the spots we want to see. I have so many places I’d love to go hiking at.”

“And I want to see the burger family!”

I narrowed my eyes. “The burger family?”

“You don’t know about the burger family?”

“Should I?”

“They are the A&W Burger Family statues. They are spread across the states, but I know the ones I want to see are Hillsboro, Oregon.”

I laughed. “You want to travel to see hamburger statues?

“It’s a family of burger people, Star. A family!” he exclaimed, smiling wide. I loved when he slipped into that version of himself—full of joy and light. It looked so good on him. “We need to find a place for lunch and discuss all the places we’d plan to go on for this road trip,” he said.

“I could use some food.”

“Deep-dish pizza?”

“Do you know most people from Chicago don’t eat deep-dish pizza? Down here, we do more of a thin crust style.”

“Lucky for me, I’m a tourist. So again, deep-dish pizza?”

Deep-dish pizza it was.

The rest of our time together felt free. We’d laughed more than we ever had and kissed in public places with no worries about who might see us. By the time we headed back to the train station, I was already dreading not being able to hold him the way I had that day. I was dreading not touching him in the hallways of school. I knew summer was only a few months away, but honestly, it felt like centuries when you were falling in love.

When we made it back to downtown Milwaukee, we finally took out our cell phones and turned them back on.

“It was kind of nice to be unplugged from the world,” I mentioned as we walked out of the train station and began to cross the street to where I parked my car for the day. Milo’s footsteps froze in the middle of the road as he stared at his phone. Cars were coming his way, and I yanked his arm, tugging him to the curbside before he could get hit.

“What are you doing? You almost died,” I said, confused by his sudden unawareness.

He was still looking down at his phone with knitted brows.

“Milo? What is it?”

His shoulders slumped forward as his body held a slight tremble.

“Milo?” I questioned.

He didn’t look at me.

His trembles intensified.

“Milo. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s my dad.” When his head rose, his eyes were flooded with tears.

True alarm and concern shot straight into my heart. “What happened?”

“There was a car accident. Weston has been trying to reach me. He said it’s bad, and well…shit...” His voice cracked as he shook his head. “I need to get to the hospital. I need to get to the hospital. I have to, I have to, uh…” His words faded away as he began to crumple.

“Which hospital? I’ll take you. Let’s go.”

He muttered the hospital’s name, and I quickly pulled up directions on my phone. When we arrived, I went to get out of the car, but he stopped me. “You can’t come up. Weston is here, so you can’t walk in with me.”

“I don’t care,” I told him. “I want to be here for you.”

“Star. You can’t. It’s fine.”

My chest tightened as the reality of our situation came back in full force. His father was fighting for his life inside of said hospital, and I couldn’t even go up there to be by Milo’s side due to my position at the high school. It seemed ridiculous and unfair.

“I’ll wait here until you’re done,” I told him.

“It might be hours,” he whispered, his voice tired and cracking.

“I’ll wait here,” I said once more.

He nodded once, then slid out of the car. As he walked away, I had to force myself not to rush in beside him so he wouldn’t have to go alone. Thirty minutes passed quickly. Then an hour. It wasn’t long after that that Milo came out of the building and walked toward my car again. He opened the door and climbed back inside.

I sat straighter, waiting to hear the news.

“He’s pretty beat up and not doing too great. He’s in a coma, and they don’t know… They didn’t have much information to give me. They said I could call for updates or come back during visiting hours, which I’ll do.”

“Okay. That’s good. And Weston?”

“He left a little bit before me. I told him I’d take an Uber home or something.”

“You’re not going to stay with him tonight?”

“No. I’m staying at my place.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m going to stay with you.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve already stolen a day of your time. I’ll be fine and—”

“I’m staying with you,” I repeated.

He looked at me and parted his mouth as if he wanted to argue, but no words left his lips. He simply nodded, completely defeated.

I took him to my dorm room, where I collected a few items in a duffel bag to take over to Milo’s. He sat on my bed, quiet. I was certain his mind was busier than ever, twisted with corrupted thoughts that were eating at his spirit.

As I grabbed my phone charger from the wall, the dorm door opened, and Whitney walked in with her headphones. The second her eyes fell on Milo, her jaw dropped open, but she held her composure the best she could.

“Is everything okay?” she asked as I zipped up the duffel bag.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I’ll be gone for a few days,” I told her.

“But what about your big exam tomorrow?”

“I don’t care,” I confessed, feeling my anxiety build as she said all this stuff in front of Milo. Nothing against my best friend, but she was the last person I wanted to deal with at that moment. My mind was focused on Milo and Milo only.

I turned toward him and gave him a tiny smile. “Ready?”

He nodded and stood from my bed.

“Starlet—” Whitney started.

I turned to her and placed a hand on her forearm. “I’ll explain everything when I’m back in a few days.”

She nodded, maybe not in complete understanding but in solidarity. “Be careful,” she whispered, not loud enough for Milo to hear. Then she pulled me into a hug and said it once more. “Just be careful, Star.”

Milo and I drove to his house, and he grabbed my bag to carry it inside. He moved as if walking through quicksand, seconds away from being pulled deeper into his own tortured depression.

It wasn’t fair, watching him break. He was just beginning to learn to breathe again, and it felt selfish that the world was trying to pull him back down, deeper into the darkness when he’d just begun to feel the warmth of the sun.

I was able to take in his home a lot more than I’d been the night prior when I’d stayed over. His house felt like a time capsule of sorts. I could feel his mother through the decorations of the home. Dashes of feminine touches were scattered through every room. Photographs were plastered on the walls, yet many of them were crooked and covered in dust. A few light bulbs were burned out, and the space was dimly lit.

The home had such a haunting feeling to it. As if it was once so lively, yet it had been stuck in neutral ever since his mother passed away. What was once a warm and inviting home had transformed into a dreary place soaked in sadness.

I moved to the fireplace to study the photographs on the mantel. Pictures of Milo with both his parents. He looked so much like his mother that it almost took my breath away. From the sparkle in their eyes to the curves of their smiles. I now understood why it could be difficult for his father to look at Milo. It was like looking at his favorite dream and not being able to hold it any longer. The living room coffee table was littered with empty beer cans and a half-eaten pizza in the box, and the floor could’ve used a good vacuuming, but when I looked around, all I really noticed was that two people lived there who were trying their best to make it through every single day. I’d never known a home could feel frozen in time until I’d stepped inside their four walls.

The moment Milo saw my eyes on said table, he grumbled to himself and hurried over to clear it. “Sorry. It’s my dad,” he tried to explain, pushing down the bit of embarrassment. I walked over and helped him clean it up. “Don’t worry about it. I can help.”

“You don’t have to. I got this,” he said before standing and running into the side of the end table next to the recliner chair. “Shit!” he yipped, almost dropping the cans in his hand. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay?” I asked, rushing over to him.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, his anger building by the second. The moment he realized his tone, he looked at me and sighed. “Sorry. It’s just a lot right now.”

“Here, give it to me.” I took the items from him and went to toss them into the trash bin. When I came back, I could see how defeated he appeared as he rubbed his leg where he’d hit it. “Can I make you something to eat? Or tea? Coffee?”

He shook his head as his back was turned to me. He stared outside at the falling snow. April was right around the corner, yet snow was still dusting over our town as if it had no plans to vanish.

I was so worried about him but wasn’t certain what I could do.

“Milo…how can I help?”

He turned to look my way and then walked over to me. He pulled me into a hug, and I held on tight. We stayed there for a second before his lips kissed my forehead, then my cheeks, then the curve of my chin, then my neck, then…

“Milo, wait,” I whispered as his mouth trailed down the nape of my neck. Shivers moved through my system as I fought my wants versus his actual needs. Yes, his mouth against my skin felt good, the warmth of his touch trailing against me. I wanted him. There was no denying that fact because I always wanted him. My brain knew it wasn’t right, but my heart didn’t care about right or wrong. All it knew how to do was fall for the broken boy who every now and then let me into his shattered pieces. But it wasn’t what he needed. He didn’t need physical intimacy or a lover at that moment.

He needed a friend.

He needed me to be his friend.

“I want you,” he whispered against my skin. His tongue slipped from his mouth and traced along my collarbone. “I want to taste every piece of you,” he swore, his hands roaming against my waistline.

“Milo, no,” I said, stepping away from him.

The room felt as if it chilled over as confusion flurried throughout his eyes. “What the hell, Star? I just want you right now. That’s it.”

“No, Mi. You’re sad and worried.”

“No, I’m not. I’m fine.”

My heart ached for him because I could feel his frustration. I could sense his want to disconnect. To unplug and lose himself against me so he wouldn’t have to face reality. He was doing everything in his power to avoid facing the truth about his shattered heart.

“You haven’t said a word about your father since we left the hospital,” I calmly stated. “That worries me. We should talk about it and—”

“Don’t,” he whispered through gritted teeth. He turned his back to me, and his shoulders dropped as he shook his head. “If you don’t want to fuck, you can just leave,” he coldly stated.

“Mi—”

“I mean it, Starlet. I don’t want to have a fucking heart-to-heart session with you, all right?” he shot at me. He turned my way, and his eyes almost shattered every inch of my being. His eyes showcased the opposite of what his words were stating. I saw it in his stare—the need for comfort. The fear of his solitude. The pain of the possibility of yet another massive loss.

How much heartbreak could a heart have before it simply gave up on beating?

I moved toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“You need to let it out.”

“There’s nothing to say. Okay? My father’s a drunk who got himself into this situation. End of story.”

“Mi—”

“What?!” he cried out, his voice cracking as he took steps away from me. “What do you want me to say, Star? You want me to talk about how pissed off I am at him? You want me to express how damn traumatic this is for me, not knowing if he’s gonna be okay? You want me to dig deep into how messed up my mind, and my thoughts are, knowing that I could get a call any second now saying he’s gone? Is that what you want?” he asked. He was yelling, but I knew he wasn’t shouting at me. He wasn’t angry with me. He was pissed off at the world. At the injustices of it all. At the unfairness. With just cause.

“Or, oh wait, let me guess, you want me to tell you how angry I am with myself, huh?” he asked. His movements stilled as he shut his eyes for a split second. His head slightly tilted to the left as if he was trying to gather his thoughts. As if he was trying to control his emotions.

I wished he wouldn’t, though.

I wished he’d allow himself to spill over. To feel it all, every hurt, every ache, every slice of pain.

When his eyes opened, I saw the waterworks seconds away from pouring out. “Because I should’ve spent today with him like you mentioned. He’d still be okay if I would’ve helped him instead of running off to Chicago to try to escape this shit.” He glanced at the photograph of his parents on his mantel and began to whisper. “I might not get to tell him I’m sorry, Star,” he said. “I might not get to make up with him, or have a beer with him, or tell him ten years down the line that he was right and that I was a little shit. I might not reminisce with him about Mom, or get to build a new relationship with him. He’s in a coma, and he doesn’t know I’m sorry. He doesn’t know I’m sorry for being a fucked-up kid with daddy issues. He doesn’t know that I forgive him for not knowing how to parent after Mom left us. He doesn’t know I love him.”

I could’ve reassured him that his father knew that Milo loved him.

I could’ve been the person who comforted him and told him that his father could still pull through.

He didn’t need that right then, though. He needed to break.

Sometimes one had to break into a million pieces for healing to begin. All Milo needed from me at that very moment was my arms wrapped tightly around him as a physical reminder that he might’ve felt alone, but he wasn’t. I was there and would be there as long as he needed me. No matter how long it took.