Page 63 of Breaking You Open

“He’s too trusting,” Louis says, and I hear the frown in his voice.

“Maybe it’s good he ran into you, then.”

“He doesn’t know me. Not really. He doesn’t know what I’m really like.”

“Louis …”

I stay back for a few more moments, desperate to hear more, but I have to reveal myself eventually, or else they’ll start to wonder where I’ve run off to.

Louis smiles when he sees me. He pulls me closer and brushes a hand over my cheek. “Got some dirt on you, boy. How about we take a bath when we get home?”

A bath.

I blink against the onslaught of memories threatening to flood my senses.

We’re both guys, aren’t we?Do as I say.

All I get out is a shaky “o-okay” as Louis strokes the top of my head in a gesture that should feel affectionate but instead makes me shudder with unease.

A bath is fine. It should be fine. Ithasto be fine. With Louis, I can replace that memory with a good one. I won’t think about Aaron. I won’t think aboutthat.

I lean against Louis in the back seat, playing off my shut eyes as exhaustion. I try to focus on his large hands stroking my hair, desperate not to let my mind replace his warm, callused palms with the cold, slithering touch of my foster brother.

I squeeze my eyes shut, begging him to stop haunting me, topleaseleave me alone. How can I get rid of him if I can’t slice into his flesh like I did with Eric? How can I get rid of him if I can’t pepper him with bullets like I did the target? Only then would the shame leave my body, but it’ll never happen, so I can’t be fixed.

He still lives in me, and he won’t ever let me go.

Chapter 20

Louis

I fill the bathtubwith water and shower gel and tear off my shirt, longing to wash off the sweat and dust from the shooting range. When I turn around, Sparrow is just standing there, staring at the tub, as if mesmerized by the steady flow of hot water.

I strip down fully, ripping my pants off along with my underwear and socks. “You’re just going to stand there?”

He blinks and shakes his head. “Uh, no, I just…”

“Want me to help you?”

He nods.

Weird. He’s not usually this quiet.

I grab the hem of his shirt, and he lifts his hands over his head. That’s a good sign at least, though it’s almost as if he does it on autopilot. I guess I’ve done this a lot—helping him in and out of his clothes and into bed. This time, he’s a lot stiffer than usual though—mouth a tight line, eyes refusing to meet mine. Chalking it up to exhaustion, I proceed to slide his pants off. He steps out of them, then I bend to pull off his socks.

It’s crazy how good this feels. Tender. I’m still learning, but given some time, maybe I can find it in me to take care of him the way he needs—the way he deserves.

The tub barely fits me, so I’m not sure how this is going to work. I sink into the water first and motion for Sparrow to sit in front of me, our legs touching and his body lined up against mine. His skinny pale knees stick out above the water next to my massive, hairy tan ones.

I exhale and lean back, letting the aches of my body dissolve into the water. I expect Sparrow to do the same, but then I hear his breath quicken and go shallow.

“Too hot?” My voice echoes against the tile walls, and I slide a hand up his torso, feeling the increased beat of his heart.

“N-No,” he says, but something is clearly wrong. Despite the heat, he’s shaking. He cowers every time our skin touches, and his lower lip trembles as if he’s about to start crying.

“You still with me, boy?”

His gaze flicks up to meet mine, but he doesn’t reply. He’s like a startled animal. Any moment now, I expect him to shoot out of the tub and spray water everywhere, but he stays put, squeezing his shoulders together as if trying to appear as small as possible.

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