Page 39 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

After our conversation, he created a compass tattoo to remind him everyone takes their own journey. Jos etched it onto his chest right above his heart later the same day. When he showed it to me, I wanted to cry.

Because it’s how he is. Thoughtful. Caring. And maybe a little controlling too. But it’s because he wants what’s best for the people he loves. And right now, he’s sitting on the sidelines with his hands tied behind his back, watching his best friend choose the harder path.

It sucks.

“I’m sorry, Milo,” I murmur.

“It’s like you said; I can’t help everyone. Not if they don’t want it.”

“Doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Unable to stop myself, I round the side of the couch to sit on the edge of it, desperate to comfort him. To remind him of his tattoo. To remind him Jake’s choices areJake’schoices. He can’t control everyone around him, even when he thinks he knows what’s best. But are Baby Mamas allowed to say such things?

And is that all I am to him?

At a loss for words, I pick at my cuticles, unsure what to say or do since I’ve made my move and now sit beside him. There’s still plenty of space between us, but it’s the closest we’ve willingly been in a long time, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

And the silence?

Kill me now.

I clear my throat and peek up at him to find him staring at my bare thigh from my dress riding up. My breath catches, but for some reason, I can’t make myself tug the flowy material down. I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m trying to distract him from his issues with Jake since it seems my words clogged my throat as soon as I sat down. Maybe I’m curious whether I imagine his heated looks or his stilted breathing, and I want to see what happens if push comes to shove. Especially when it’s how we used to solve his problems. A few solid orgasms are an excellent distraction. Not like we’d ever go down that road again, but still.

Ilikefeeling his gaze on me and pretending he still finds me distracting. Tempting.

Maybe.

“Speaking of people not wanting my help.” He looks down at Penny curled against him. “She did good. Just slept.”

Aaaand there’s our reality again.

With a soft smile, I rearrange the hem of my dress before scooting closer and rubbing my hand along Penny’s tiny back. She looks so tiny curled up against him. So peaceful. Her mouth twitches with a sleepy smile, and I melt.

“Thanks for watching her,” I whisper.

He nods. “You know you don’t have to do this alone, right?”

“This?” I peek up at him.

Patting Penny’s bum, he clarifies, “Parenting.”

“I know I don’t.”

“But?” he challenges, reading my damn mind like always.

I glance up at him again, fussing with Penny’s blanket. Anything to distract me from the look in his eyes. The concern. The need to take care of the people around him, which apparently, still includes me.

“You didn’t sign up for this, ya know?” I explain.

“So?”

“So, it’s hard for me to understand boundaries and expectations and…you know what I mean. I feel like I’m flying blind. I know we’re not a thing anymore, but we’re trying to live under the same roof and raise a kid together. I feel like one minute you’re bossing me around, telling me to take care of her. And the next minute, you’re swooping in and saving her from witnessing her mommy’s mental breakdown. It’s confusing… And a lot to take in.”

“I get it,” he returns. “Didn’t help I was an ass earlier this morning when we were talking about boundaries and expectations.”

“You weren’t an ass,” I lie.

He chuckles but doesn’t call me out on it. “I’m gonna text you my work schedule. If I’m not working, I can be home. And even if I am working, text me, and I can be home. We might have our own shit, Mads, but I’m not gonna let it come between me and my kid. We’re a partnership now. You can rely on me.”

Me and my kid.

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