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He aims a little-brother grin at me. “What’s up with you? You’re acting weird.”

“I’m just tired,” I tell him.

“You can talk to me, sis,” he says.

“Not about some stuff, I can’t,” I tell him.

“Is itboyfriendstuff?”

I fold my arms, sitting back. “I haven’t got a boyfriend.”

“Have you got a maybe boyfriend? That’s what that guy says on the TV. Remember? Amaybe boyfriend?”

I could tell him I’ve got adefinitelyboyfriend…as in I’d definitely wreck all our lives if he ever became that. Dad would hate me, which would cause a rift between Mom and me and Jimmy. And Dad would hate Silas, wrecking the business and affecting Dad’s income.

And all for what?

If it’s only the steaminess, or if I’m just some faulty imitation of Vanessa, then why do it?

It can’t just be this feeling inside, my core begging for his seed, my heart crying out for our shared future.

That future will never exist if he doesn’t want it.

“I’m teasing,” Jimmy says. “I’m sorry. I'm happy for you if he’s a maybe or anything else.”

“Don’t be,” I tell him. “All I care about is getting as good at my job as possible.”

“I thought you wanted to be a mommy?” Jimmy asks.

I bite down. Hearing him say the word makes me think of my future kids saying it, aiming it at me.

“That was a silly dream,” I say shortly. “That depends on a lot of things that are never going to happen.”

Most of all, it depended on a crush coming true or a wish being granted, you could say.

I wonder what Silas would say if I told him what we’d shattered with that argument. The crush that started three years ago, the crush that always seemed so unrealistic.

Would he care? Would it make him feel sorrier for our twisted closeness?

* * *

It’s day four when my cell phone rings.

I’m sitting in a café in the city, drinking coffee as I sketch on my pad and wait for my next appointment.

Silas Stone.

I stare at the phone screen, not sure what to do, ignoring what I really want…to answer, tell him I want him so badly it hurts, tell him I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.

When I finally answer it, I say nothing.

“Hello?” Silas’ tone is dark and distant like he’s going to play the hot-and-cold game again. But I haven’t got the energy for that. “Lauren?”

“I’m here.”

I keep my voice as distant as his.

We can move on, never hurt Dad.


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