Page 81 of Paper Thin Love

“I want them to say I loved my family. I don’t care about what I accomplish. All that matters is that the people I loved know it.”

His breath catches.“What if your family isn’t worthy of love?”

I press myself closer, nudging my leg between his so we are as entwined as possible.“Then find someone who is Dash. Keep searching till you find them.” I close my eyes. The sound of his breathing and his gentle rubbing of my lower back help lull me to sleep.

“I don’t need to search.”

I smile; I know I’m dreaming now. My broken prince wouldn’t have admitted that out loud, would he?

Chapter 31

Dash

“Your fucking eyes just lit up like a Christmas tree.” Dante hisses as he kicks my freshly healed leg. The removable cast I had put on a few weeks ago made simple tasks much more manageable. The cast caused some atrophy, but Cillian’s strength training is already helping to fix it along with the physical therapy.

“She’s my pretend girlfriend.” I retort. That fucker Jared was smiling at Mila as they grabbed trays and started to get lunch. Any minute she’ll be mine and free from his company. I can’t stand having to tolerate that conniving jerk.

“Pretend?” Cillian questions with an all knowing smirk.

“Pretend with benefits.” I correct him. That’s all Mila and I can be, moments of smoke that are swallowed by our surroundings. We can never be more, never solid. Solid things can crumble.

I won’t crumble. I did the day I buried my mom. I’ll never resemble that weak boy again,

I told Mila I’d never love her. I told her I can’t be fixed, yet she clings to me like a runway model is bound to bulimia. It’s a sickness, yet somehow that problem benefits them. A double-edge sword.

So I gave in.

I kissed and touched Mila’s body, craved her taste, relished when she called my name as if I were a saint and not a devil to be damned to hell.

Those nightly showers were the only comfort I felt, the only escape I’d ever witness. As soon as the water shut off, I forced myself to stop, to not give in further.

It would be so easy, especially since she refused to leave me. Having Mila in my bed was now a nightly feature. She clung to me like I was a hero and…I loved it.

Only one person ever saw a glimmer of goodness in me. My mom.

Now Mila did.

It was a flicker of hope, a symbolic middle finger that I didn’t have to be the monster my dad forced me to be.

At least not yet.

When I was alone with Mila in my room, I was the good guy—the guy who kissed her back with passion, the guy who spoke his feelings to her, the guy she desired but eventually could never have.

Eventually, we would crumble.

I’d be fine. I had been smothered before. I knew how to consolidate emotions in my mind.

Mila didn’t before I came along. Now I gave her a tool. Art, a way to purge her emotions, buried them in the paints, then hang her trophies on her walls. Mila was flourishing in it. Her confident grasp of the paints signaled the completion of my job.

I adjust my leg, now able to move it with ease. I’m getting better. I should feel joyous, but the commencement of healing simply marks the start of the countdown. Any week now, I’ll be ordered to participate in The Cleansing. I have no idea who I’ll have to fight; it’s a thought that would keep me up at night if it weren’t for Mila clinging to me, dragging down my thoughts so I can sleep soundly.

***

I can sense eyes on me as soon as I round the corner. Connor Dickerson leans against the railing, his eyes locked on the ballet studio. The room where I train is just across the hall. Dante and Cillian are already inside, but I can’t run to them. I have to handle this by myself.

I’ll give it to Connor; he’s the first to approach me alone. The united front of Dante, Cillian, and I have kept the vultures and lurking predators at bay.

“King,” Connor snorts my name, his eyes still glued to the dance studio.

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