Page 11 of The Mourning Throne

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He was still fine. Still dry-eyed.

Morgan shut the drawer. His face didn’t change. But his fingers stayed curled around the handle like he wasn’t ready to let go.

“I’m notmad,” Lex said, more to himself. “I’m just—”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

What was he? Ashamed?

Scared?

Absolutely losing it because it felt like someone pulled the rug out from under him?

It was too fucking quiet.

Complete silence.

Morgan was still, and if Lex started crying?

Nothappening.No.

Instead, he forced a laugh. “No emotional check-in?”

“You already told me,” Morgan said. “You feel like you’ve been left out. Like you’re second. That’s not the case.”

The accuracy stung like hell.

And then Morgan sighed, but it came with a shift in his posture. A loosening. His eyes stayed fixed on the middle distance, but his voice was—maybe notsofter, but at least quieter.

“I didn’t tell you,” he said, “because it was easierfor me.”

Cold slipped down Lex’s back.

Morgan didn’t stop. “You didn’t seem any worse for wear. You were still you.Wewere stillus. Why would I disrupt that? Why would I cause problems when there’s no need to? What does that accomplish, Lex.”

God, just look happy. I don’t even care if it’s fake. Act like a human for once, Morgan.

Lex slid his hand along the curve of Morgan’s back. His palm found the center of it, right between his shoulder blades.

Morgan didn’t budge.

Good enough.

Lex pressed his forehead to Morgan’s spine, chest cinched too tight to breathe right. Wrapped his arms around Morgan’s waist—desperate for an answer he couldn’t say.

Please. Please tell me I’ve always mattered more.

He waited for the rejection. Counting the seconds in silence.

One.

Two.

No movement. Not even a breath. He was about to pull away when—

Morgan turned. Grabbed him.

Held on—tight.

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