Page 59 of Say It Again

Aaron chuckled. “I actually don’t mind that you’re a tiny, messy monster.”

“Duh.” He rolled his eyes. “Because you’re obsessed with me.”

“It’s not an obsession.” Aaron kissed his forehead. “It’s a weakness.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you’re making a doll from my hair?”

“And it’s not a doll.” Aaron slid his fingers through Daniel’s hair. “It’s a mini replica, and it’s finally taking shape. Just a few more strands—”

He chuckled as he swatted Aaron off, rolling over on his belly to let his eyes get their fill of Aaron’s face. No one should be allowed to have a face like that. It was genetically unfair. He touched his fingertips to a small white line on Aaron’s upper lip. “What’s this scar from?”

Aaron’s pink tongue poked out to feel it. “When I was fourteen, I got into a fight.”

“You did? With whom?”

“With my dad.”

Daniel’s eyebrows raised and his smile vanished. “Not a physical fight? Right? Are you serious?”

Aaron chuckled as he nodded. “Yeah, guess I’m good at fighting with dads, huh?”

Daniel couldn’t find it in him to smile as he rubbed Aaron’s arm. Say what you will about Robert Greene, he would never get physical. “What was it about?”

“Money.” Aaron blinked at the walls. “Er, not directly, but I’d asked him for money because I needed new shoes for soccer, and he got mad. We started fighting. He hit me.”

Daniel’s hand snapped to his heart as he widened his eyes. “What do you mean, he hit you over soccer shoes?”

“That’s what it was about.” Aaron shrugged as he smeared a fingertip over the scar. “I had braces. Busted my lip wide open. I had to get three stitches.”

Daniel shook his head. His breathing was suddenly a bit hitched.

“But he felt bad,” Aaron continued, like they were having a conversation about a broken vase and not three stitches in his face. “Because he gave me forty dollars when I got home, and the shoes didn’t cost that much.”

The blood in Daniel’s heart ran cold enough for him to shiver.

Aaron toyed with a loose thread in the comforter. “He’d buy us stuff when he felt bad for doing something. Or give us cash. I guess it was usually cash.”

“Who’s us?” Daniel tried to level his voice, but it squeaked as his eyes began to sting. “You and your brother?”

“Me and my mom. And my brother, yeah. Less him, though, which thank God. I suppose because he was younger.”

“He hit all—?” His composure was wavering as terribly as his voice. “He hit all of you guys?”

“Only when he got mad. Not all the time. Not, like, every day or anything—woah, hey!” Aaron’s eyes widened as scrambled to cup Daniel’s face. “You’re crying? Don’t cry, kid. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Oh dammit,” he hissed, wiping his face on a blanket. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, no, don’t apologize. It’s okay.” Aaron yanked him into his chest, where he petted his hair over and over. “It’s okay, shh. You’re okay.”

Daniel rolled his eyes at himself as he bounced a bit, trying to wrangle his emotions. No, it wasn’t okay. He was terrible at being a solace to others because he felt it. Whatever they were saying. Whatever pain they were going through. Even in movies or stories he’d hear—it was all so visceral, and he couldn’t keep it separate from himself. It was one of the worst things about him, and it was just as bad as it’d ever been. “But I’m supposed to be consoling you, not the other way around.”

“Well, in a way you are.” Aaron sweetly combed his fingers through his hair. “In your way. Have you always been like that?”

“Like what? Like a human water faucet?”

Aaron chuckled.

“Yes. My mom’s the same way. We can’t control it. We try. But when the single parent in the commercial finally gets their online degree, or the bodywash brings the family together, we lose all composure.”

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