Page 95 of His Reluctant Savior

He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. I’ll just prey on them or get bored with them once I’m done. What if I… do something to them? My moods… Sometimes anger just feels so…”

“Good?” I finished for him.

He nodded.

I could imagine when one’s emotions were so dampened that something strong could feel visceral and somewhat addicting. But Easton kept it under control for the most part.

“I will scare them,” he added.

All were valid concerns. I wish I had answers for him.

He sighed, continuing to watch Dalton and Owen. “I don’t need love because I don’t care, and I can’t feel what it’s like. You’re important to me only because you give me what I need and want. If you leave, I’ll… be angry and fight to get you back, but it’s not out of love, Sid.”

I reached over and squeezed his shoulders. “I know that, East. It doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t make me care about you any less.”

“A lover won’t want that. They won’t understand like you do. But I also have needs.”

“Have you tried to find someone?” I asked.

He shook his head. “But my boredom makes me… lonely.”

“Are you talking about sex?”

He looked back at me and nodded.

I shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with sex. Go get some, but do it safely. If that’s all you need, there’s nothing wrong with just having sex. There are plenty of people out there who don’t need attachments and love.”

“Perhaps. But shouldn’t I want those things? Everyone else seems to.”

“Nah. You do what works for you.”

I hoped there was someone out there for Easton, but I had my doubts. He wasn’t wrong. Most people would not understand him.

I think the onlyreason Easton sat through the entire birthday song with a flaming cake in front of him was because he was getting presents afterward.

I tried to explain to Dalton that Easton didn’t care about birthdays, cakes, or songs, but Dalton insisted Owen would want to sing the song, and he wouldn’t understand if he couldn’t.

Easton’s face was nothingness except for the clenched jaw as the song wrapped up. When he didn’t blow out the candles, Owen folded his arms.

“Blow out the candles and make a wish, East,” he said.

“I don’t want to.”

“But youhaveto! Your wish won’t come true.”

“I don’t have any wishes.”

“Everyone has wishes.” Owen, who sat on my lap, looked over at his father, who sat next to me. “Right, Daddy? Everyone has wishes.”

Dalton smiled down at his son and ruffled his strawberry-blond hair. “Not everyone wants to wish for things, Little Man.”

Owen huffed before his eyes lit up. “I know! I can blow out the candles and make a wish for you. Can I? Can I? Please?”

Easton waved a hand at the candles quickly burning down into the chocolate cake. “Have at it.”

The boy thought for a minute, then he nodded and leaned over the table, balancing on small hands. I held him to keep him from falling off me as he blew out the candles. It took several tries to blow out all eighteen of them.

Easton plucked out the candles and put them on a napkin. “What did you wish for?” he asked.

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