Page 3 of All His Broken Pieces
I was going to make this right.
This beautiful boy was going to smile again, just like he used to.
And maybe—hopefully—his first smile would be for me.
Chapter Two
Cove
To say that I was confused was an understatement. Langston had never noticed I lived here, even if we happened to sometimes pass each other in the parking garage. The man only really seemed to care about himself.
So, why was he all of a sudden here, with dinner, and holding me while I cried against his chest?
Why was he making promises that I didn’t want to believe in?
Was this another game for him? Was he going to go home later and laugh about it all?
My heart ached at the thought of all of this being nothing but a game to him.
I used to have the hugest crush on Langston until I realized he was just as big of a douchebag as everyone else. He’d made my life hell. How many times had I contemplated suicide because of him? How many times had I cut my wrists and my thighs because of him just so I could force my mind to focus on physical pain rather than allow it to torment me?
I leaned up and swiped at my bloodshot, tired, swollen eyes, hating that I had cried all over his chest. Why had I allowed him to comfort me after all he had done?
I really was fucked up.
He reached up and tenderly brushed his fingers over my cheeks, wiping away some of my tears. I sniffled and hiccuped. “Will you eat for me?” he asked quietly. “I made us a casserole. It’s my favorite. I’m hoping you’ll like it.”
I wasn’t hungry, and I opened my mouth to say so, but Langston shot me a look that told me the only thing he wanted to hear was yes.
Finally, I nodded and moved off his lap, my cheeks flushing when I remembered I was wearing my fuzzy onesie and clutching my bear like it was a life raft. “I, um, I’ll go change?—”
“No, you won’t,” Langston pushed. I frowned down at my lap. He hooked his finger under my chin, and my lips trembled when he lifted my head up so I was forced to meet his gorgeous, hazel eyes. He ran his hand over my hood, not pulling it down—more like he was just feeling the fuzziness. “I like seeing you like this, Cove, and if you’re comfortable, then don’t change a damn thing for me, you hear me?”
I licked my lips, and his eyes snapped down, a heated look entering his eyes before he ripped them away. My breath hitched in my throat.
Was it possible that Langston wanted me as badly as I wanted him? As much as I hated it, my attraction to him had never gone away. And now that he was older and had filled out a lot more, I wanted him even more.
God, what was wrong with me?
He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “Let me get plates made.”
“Oh, I can help?—”
“You’ll stay right there,” he said firmly, pressing his hand to my shoulder to keep me seated. “I can find my way around your kitchen easily enough, baby boy.” My heart raced at the name, and suddenly, I never wanted to hear him call me anything else. “Just stay seated, okay?”
I nodded and watched him as he walked away, his sweats making his ass look divine. It was perfectly round, but not so big that it made him look like he had a serious case of bubble butt.
My cheeks burning in mortification when I realized how hard I was staring, I quickly reached forward and snatched the TV remote off the coffee table, turning on one of my comfort shows: I Love Lucy.
“I love this show,” Langston said, surprising me when he stepped into the living room. I jerked my head around to look at him, trailing my eyes over his firm body. I took a moment to appreciate how good he looked, and my belly clenched with need, the blood rushing to my cock when I saw the imprint of his dick behind his sweats.
Gray sweatpants were both a gift and a curse.
“You do?” I asked, hating my voice came out squeaky. I needed to get a grip, but how the hell was I meant to do that when Langston looked so damn good?
He took a seat beside me and set one of the plates down on the table. I reached for it, thinking he was just back to being his rude self, but he smacked my hand away, surprising me enough to make me squeak in shock. He pulled me back to rest against his chest. “Let me feed you. Will you let me?”
I froze in shock. He brushed his hand over my chest, soothing me. Slowly, I nodded my head. He hummed in approval, and my dick jerked in my onesie. I was too embarrassed to reach down and cover it up, afraid I would just draw more attention to my predicament. But at the same time, I was already mortified because it was clear I was turned on.
