Page 25 of Red Flags Only

You’re my Lyra.

I’m your Jupiter.

And we always, always will be.

To the soaring skies and back,

Jupiter

P.S. I’ll write you as many checks as you like. You know this.

An eighteen-wheeler is too good for me. I deserve amuch slower death.

Wet spots smatter the pale green paper when I finish, and a new one emerges as a tear falls from my nose to land on Jupiter’s name at the bottom of the page.

This is… wow. Okay. Wow.

If I didn’t already know I’m a terrible person, I certainly would now.

I’m here rejecting Jove to his face on the basis of… what? The stuff he’s done to other people? It’s never bothered me much before, but now it does? Why? I’ve let people do much worse things to me than he’s ever done to anyone else, and he’s not done anything at all tome, except for exactly what he’s written here – love me, support me, and protect me.

Meanwhile, I’ve been throwing a fit and acting like a judgemental baby because my beloved pen pal wasn’t what I expected them to be in real life.

“I’m horrible,” I mumble, daring to peek at Jove.

His feet rest on the coffee table as he lounges on the couch, head tilted back and eyes aimed at the ceiling. At my words he jolts, feet hitting the floor with aclunkas he stands.

“Honey, no,” he soothes, steppingoverthe coffee table to get to me and wrap me in his arms. “You’re wonderful. And beautiful. And the best friend I’ve ever had.”

I hiccup, and the leaf-letter floats to the floor as my hands move to fist his shirt. “No, you’re right. You’ve been nothing but good to me for the entire time I’ve known you, thenonething doesn’t go the way I think it should, and I throw a tantrum?” I shake my head. “That’s awful. Even if you are big and scary to everyone else, I’ve only ever seen you be big and scary in defense of your brother, and you’ve never once been big and scary at me. Except for that time with the ax, but I don’t think you meant to be that time. Idon’t think you realize that axes are scary. You’ve always been a little bit oblivious.” A breath staggers into my lungs, and he seizes the opportunity to interrupt.

“I’m not scary,” he says. “Unless you’re someone who deserves it. You don’t deserve it, and you never will, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

I nod. “I know.I know. Which is why it’s so stupid how I’ve been acting. I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

His chin rests on the top of my head as he shushes me. “You’re fine,” he murmurs. “Forgiven. Always. All I want is a life with you. I don’t care if I have to work for it sometimes, so long as this is where we end up. Together.”

Gut me, why don’t you.

“Together,” I repeat. “If you’re sure.”

He scoffs. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I’m sure. You think I strong arm my way into just anybody’s house?”

Um… “Yes?”

He chuckles, pulling back to find my face. “Well, I don’t,” he says, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. His eyes lock, considering, on the wetness dusting his thumb before he puts it in his mouth, sucking the salty liquid off his skin.

My jaw drops.

“Are we good?” he asks, as if he did not justdrink my tears.

“Uh,” I answer, intelligent as ever.

His brows furrow. “We’re not good? You wrote me a letter. I replied.” He points at the butterfly on the table. “Communication. Apology. Forgiveness.” He gestures between us. “Hugging.” He frowns. “What’s not good?”

Oh, I don’t know, the way you justdrank my flagging tears???

I don’t say that though. Looking at his face, the genuine concern on it – the intense way he is so determined for usto be good – I can only say one thing.

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