Chapter Seventeen Milo
Seventeen
Milo
I am an idiot. I initially told myself that I’d sneak out once Prue fell asleep. But we were too intertwined for that—I’d have woken her up. So, instead, I told myself I’d leave once she was in such a deep sleep that she wouldn’t notice me slip away.
Waiting for that time to come, for Prue’s breaths to deepen and her limbs to grow heavy and soften, I decided to do some light reading. I picked up one of her journals and helped myself to one of her poems.
Then, I did it again…and again…and again.
Like I said, I’m an idiot.
I don’t know what came over me but once I started I couldn’t stop. I devoured an entire journal before I even came to the realization that I was in the wrong.
It seemed to be some of her older stuff, not that you’d know by the way she weaves her prose. But talks of cafeterias and high-school politics gave it away. And as much as I felt guilty over it, I couldn’t stop myself from picking up another notebook after that one.
I want to know her so deeply; I feel the need in my bones. She’s fascinating to me. Like a puzzle I need to solve. There are simply not enough hours between now and the time I will inevitably leave here to learn all of her. So, I guess I have no choice but to give up sleeping.
When she stirred and rolled out of my hold, I stopped pretending that I wanted to leave. I rolled over with her, pressing myself into her back until sleep took me under as well.
But when I woke up before sunrise, my phone was laying in Prue’s place. I tapped it to see the time, 4:45 A.M. , and found texts from her.
Prue: Sorry if I woke you. Dad called, Mom was trying to bake during the night and nearly set the house on fire. I’m with her now.
Prue: I’ll keep you posted but today’s not looking like a painting day.
Prue: And, sorry to skip out on you. I wouldn’t have, otherwise.
Prue: And (sorry for blowing up your phone) last night was really…nice ;)
Prue: Thank you.
No, Prue wouldn’t skip out on me. Not like me, who was fully prepared to. Fuck, have I always been such a dick? Why didn’t I realize it before? I place the phone between my eyebrows, hitting it into my forehead as I berate myself for even considering walking out on this girl.
Eventually, once the spot between my brows aches, I text her back.
Milo: no worries, killer. Sorry your mom is having a hard go. Can I help?
Prue: Oh no, I did wake you
Prue: I tried to be sneaky
I notice the lack of punctuation immediately. Is she in a rush? Or is this how she texts when she’s comfortable with someone?
Prue: I’m sorry
Holy fuck… a heart? Whenever I’ve gotten one of those, I’ve known it’s time to cut ties.
The moment the lovey-dovey emojis come out, someone’s gotten too attached.
And while I’m a lot of things, some of them certainly problematic, I’ve never been one to lead someone on.
But Prue knows our dynamic…. She’s insisting on it.
Reminding me of it. So, it’s safe, right?
Jesus, my tongue was deep in this girl’s pussy last night and here I am overthinking lack of punctuation and an emoji. I need to get a grip.
Milo: don’t be
Milo: I’m going to take off, if you’re not coming back
Milo: I’ll come back later if Mrs Welch is feeling up for it, but if not I’ll see you when I see you
I gather my clothes from where they are scattered around the room and put them on.
Prue: Okay…
Prue: I hope you have a good day, Milo.
I read it three times. The first, taking it at face value. The second, because my intuition tells me to. And the third confirms what I suspected. She’s feeling insecure, like she was yesterday when she told my brother I’d blown her off.
I had been busy but, yeah, I had time to text her and decided not to. Not because I didn’t want to, because I really did, but because I thought she’d be put off if I started acting too friendly. I’ve got to stop overthinking when it comes to this girl.
Milo: I will, if I get to see you again later
I sit on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at my screen as I wait like a fucking teenager for three little dots to appear while my foot taps a nervous rhythm against the hardwood floor. When she replies, I nearly punch myself in the face for smiling at my phone.
Prue: You can count on it :)
“You’re grouchier than normal,” I say, handing Nadia a glass to dust before placing it on the shop’s display shelf. “Is it because Sef finally forced you out of the house?” Nadia arrived at the brewery around noon looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.
“I have literally not said a single word,” my sister argues, accompanied by one of her world-famous death glares.
“Exactly…” I say, leaning out of her reach and onto the bar behind my back. “There’s only so many ways I can attempt to make conversation.”
She spins on her heel, looking at me like I’m the world’s largest dumbass and she wants to exterminate me before I have the chance to breed. “Milo, the only thing you’ve said in the past four hours is ‘sturdy shelf isn’t it?’?”
“So you did hear me.” I reply, smirking.
“You’re extra insufferable today,” she says, her eyes held on my smirk before they flick up to stare into my soul. “What is it? Something’s different about you.”
I shrug, smiling coyly as I move to grab another box. “Maybe I just really enjoy stocking shelves with you.”
“Unlikely. Spill…” She follows me toward the supply closet and waits outside in the hall.
“You first,” I say. “What’s got you all…pent up?”
She sighs, closing her eyes as if she cannot believe the words she’s about to say. “I…I nearly kissed Aleks. Well, I thought about it. Well, he almost kissed me, I think. I don’t know.”
I open my mouth, shut it, reevaluate, then open it again. “Okay, and that’s…” I study her blank expression. “Bad?”
“No,” she says, slumping down the wall until her butt hits the floor. “It’s not.”
“So why—”
“Because he’s Aleks.”
“Ah, annoying,” I say, filling in the blank as I nod.
“What? No.” She glares up at me, shaking her head. “No, shut the fuck up.”
“Well then what? He’s literally the nicest human I’ve ever met other than Sef, so what’s the problem?” Other than Prue too, come to think of it.
“Exactly.” She points to my chest. “He’s nice. ”
I take a moment to appreciate my newfound fondness for that word, then continue. “And you don’t want nice?”
She pinches the bridge of her nose, leaning the back of her head onto the wall. “No, I do. I’m supposed to, right?”
I gently drop the box to the floor at her feet and move to sit next to her. “You’re worried that he’s too nice for you.”
“Yeah,” she whispers. “Something like that.”
“Well, he is.” She slaps my chest with the back of her hand before I have the chance to finish laughing.
Winded, I go on. “Listen, it’s nothing against you.
But we’re talking about Aleks here. He literally keeps a spider trap in his kitchen so he can release them outside.
His grandma had to put a ban on DVD rentals because watching Marley & Me ruined his entire summer.
He named his dog after Dolly Parton and wears nearly the same outfit every single day. He’s pure. He’s—”
“ Nice, I know,” Nadia finishes. “Unlike me…” She looks up to the ceiling as her lips pucker into a pout. “I get it.”
I look her over, head to toe, my eyebrows notching together as I take in her visible disappointment. “Nads, you couldn’t afford to be nice.”
“What?” She turns to me, her eyes softer than I’ve ever seen.
“You couldn’t afford to be nice,” I repeat, sturdier. “Not in that house…Not with Mom and Dad the way they were. Not with us two idiots as your older brothers. Nice wouldn’t have helped you survive.”
My heart aches for my little sister, both the one in front of me now and the one I’d help mend over and over.
She spent so many years trying to be older than she was—making breakfasts, mending fences, helping around the house as best she could.
For a while, she tried to earn the affection of our parents the only way she knew how—by making herself less and less of a burden and by being ever so helpful.
When that didn’t work, when they didn’t soften to her, she hardened.
It seemed overnight, at the time. As if one morning I found a jaded teenager at my parents’ table in place of the sweet, helpful daughter they’d once had.
But in hindsight, I can see how slow the transition actually was.
How many years she spent trying to please them, throwing herself against a locked door time and time again, begging to be let in.
I desperately wish I could go back and tell that younger version of Nadia that it was never her job to make herself lovable. That Mom and Dad just weren’t capable of it, no matter how much she tried. And, hell, she tried.
“I want to try to be now,” she whispers. “Now that I’m…” She sighs, from the deep hollow of her chest. Nadia looks away from me as I do the same, our eyes having briefly met for an uncomfortable second. “Why, if I’m out of that house and they’re out of my life…can I not—”
“Probably the same reason I can’t stand still for very long,” I say, interrupting. “We’re still protecting ourselves, I think. How we know best.”
“How did Nik make it out so normal?” She scoffs, drawing circles on the concrete floor with her finger.
“Because I had the two of you to worry about,” he answers, rounding the corner. “And, if I stopped doing that…I’d probably fall apart too.”
“Eavesdropping, are we?” I tease, as he moves to sit on the other side of Nadia. Together, we all stare at the blank wall across from us until the sun coming through the narrow, vertical windows far above us falls behind a cloud and comes back again.
“We’ve never really talked about it,” Nik states expectantly, sucking all the air out of the hallway. “Maybe we should.”
“What part?” Nadia laughs without humor.