Page 26 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“Milo––”

“Answer the question.”

I bite my lip, refusing to answer him, though he reads my silence correctly anyway.

“And a bottle? You got any bottles?” he asks.

“She hasn’t taken a bottle since she struggled with latching at the hospital.”

“I picked some up when I got the crib,” he grunts, more to himself than to me. “I’ll take care of it.”

Taking a step toward him, I grab his arm. Not with any real force, but enough to keep him in place. His skin is warm beneath my fingertips, his muscles tight and firm as they flex, patting Peanut’s back softly even though she’s stillveryworked up.

“Milo,” I plead, but I’m not sure what I’m begging for anymore.

I feel like I’m being ripped apart. Like if I let him take her, I’m admitting defeat. Like if I choose to rely on him right now, it’ll prove I can’t do this alone.

And I have to do this alone.

Don’t I?

He looks down at the contrast of my pale skin against his inked forearm, surprised I’m touching him. Hell, I’m surprised too. Especially after last night and the way he tore what’s left of my heart into tiny, infinitesimal pieces.

But he feels good. Familiar. Like I could crawl into him and stay there––safe––forever.

If only it were so easy.

The heat from his gaze spreads up my arm and into my chest before he shrugs away from my touch.

“Get some sleep,” he repeats. Peanut is still howling against his chest as he closes his bedroom door behind him. I stare at the wooden barrier between us for a solid minute, unsure what to do. But the truth is…

He’s right. I need sleep.

Not only for my sake but also for Peanut’s.

For the first time in hours, I close my eyes and soak up the mostly quiet room, collapse onto my bed, and curl into a ball. As if Milo’s permission is the only thing I need, I let go and finally rest for the first time in ages.

And I hate how good it feels.

* * *

I wake with a deep yawn,my boobs killing me from holding way too much milk.

How long have I been asleep?

Rolling onto my side, I check the time on my phone and groan, pressing my hands to rock-hard breasts. Peanut has to be starving by now. I’ve missed two feedings, and the milk is practically seeping from my aching chest.

Poor cows. Now, I know how they feel.

After stretching my arms over my head, I open the door and head to the kitchen only to find it empty. Curious, I creep back upstairs, chewing on my lower lip as I study Milo’s closed door for a solid thirty seconds.

She’s gotta be in there, right? Where else would she be? Then again, if Milo decided to be an asshole like the previous night, there might be a woman in there, too, and if I have to see him having sex with someone who isn’t me…

A lump lodges in my throat as I lean closer and press my ear to the door.

Silence.

No humping. No high-pitched praises to a higher being. Nothing.

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