Page 16 of Except You
“It does not. It’s perfect. You look vulnerable and sorry in this one.”
I think I look how I always look, but I don’t say that. I just let him place the picture into a text message.
“Now, what should we say?” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and seems to be thinking, his eyes laser-focused. “How about something like, I’m sorry and I wish you were here.”
“Seems trivial for all the shit I’ve said and done.”
“I mean, you could say that you have a gay friend now.”
“Now I’m tokenizing you.”
“True.” He sighs and then adds, “Maybe just, I’m sorry, how are you?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s a start.”
Beau nods and then types the short message, hitting send before I can overthink it. And overthink I do. I obsess about it for ages, staring at the phone lying next to him. There’s been no response, not that I think Magnus would ever respond right away after all the shit I pulled, but then again, maybe he’s blocked me.
God, even I would have blocked me.
“Don’t worry,” Beau says softly, blinking up at me, his eyes drooping slightly. “He’ll message back. I know he will.”
I nod and my gaze shifts back to the television. Not holding out hope. I sink down a little lower, my arms folded across my chest, protecting me from the hurt that’s fighting to make its way in, that’s fighting to tunnel deep inside my bones.
This is what you deserve.
My eyes shut, and I tune it all out.
This is what I deserve.
Chapter Three
Max
Iwake up with a start, my heart racing. Something is warm against my side, and I press against it, feeling smooth, warm skin, hair, and a tickling of breath.
Oh fuck. Beau. He slept over.
I slept in bed with a gay man.
A laugh bubbles out of me at the thought, and then I clamp my mouth shut, not wanting to wake him. He looked tired last night, and he was so helpful. My phone is still on his side of the bed, and I gently reach over, plucking it from its resting place and turning it on.
Still no response from Magnus. Nothing at all. Just a blank screen winking up at me.
Taunting me.
Seems I may need to write that goddamn letter after all. That seems like a better idea at the moment than that silly picture I sent. Looking back, I’m not sure that was a good idea. Maybe he didn’t want to see my face at all.
Maybe he burned all of our family photos.
I wouldn’t blame him.
I shut my phone off and stare at Beau, who is still peacefully sleeping. Seems my movement on the bed hasn’t woken him. His cheeks are pink, his blond hair a mess on his head. His long lashes fan across his cheeks as he sighs, shifting closer to me.
He said he was snuggly.
I can see that now. He seems to crave the warmth of another body—of me.
The thought is slightly jarring, so I push off the bed and move to the bathroom where I shower and brush my teeth. My mind is fraught with thoughts of my brother and Beau.