Page 48 of Beautiful When He Breaks

He nods once, so I grab the bottle off his nightstand and hand it to him while he shifts Mila more securely. He takes a careful drink, hands the bottle back, and then leans his head against the headboard with his eyes closed for a moment.

“I don’t want to put her down yet,” he says quietly.

“Then don’t.” He opens his eyes and looks at me again, and there’s the pain. “You should get some sleep.”

His mouth twitches despite everything, then the twitch fades, and a soft expression settles over his face. “Stay until I’m out?”

We both know I’d never deny him.

“Always,” I say. “I’ll make sure she’s safely in the bassinet before I leave.”

Always. That phrase means too much between us now. Maybe it always has. He lets the words sit, then nods and shifts down in the bed until he’s more settled. Mila stays on his chest, and his hand never moves from her back.

I take the chair by the window and stay there while the room goes quiet again, and somewhere between his second and third deeper breath, I realize I can’t sit with my own problems any longer.

Not because I’m noble or brave. If I don’t say it now to somebody, the whole thing is going to keep rotting in me until there’s nothing clean left.

Once Eli and Mila are both fully under again, I realize I’ve been rehearsing the first sentence in my head for fifteen minutes and hating every possible version of it.

I wait a little longer anyway, until I’m sure he’s really asleep, then I get up, put Mila safely in her bassinet, and leave as quietly as I can.

15

Julian

The hallway outside feels colder than his room. Or maybe I just feel their absence immediately. I close the door nearly all the way, leaving it cracked so I can hear if Mila wakes, and stand there for a second with my hand still on the knob.

My pulse is already too high. My palms feel damp. I could still go to my own room or wait until tomorrow. I could keep doing what I always do, which is tell myself I’ll pick a better time for honesty and then magically never find one.

Instead, I turn left and head for Luca’s room.

The door is half open. I can hear low voices inside, Luca’s and Sage’s, and that almost stops me because I do not want an audience for this.

I stop in the doorway and knock once against the frame anyway.

Luca looks up from where he’s sprawled back on his bed in track pants and a Blackthorne tee, phone in one hand. His eyes find my face and sharpen immediately. He already knows this isn’t casual. “You good to talk now?”

I nod once.

Sage looks between us, takes one look at Luca, and closes his laptop without a word. “I’ll go,” he says, already standing.

I blink and lie. “You don’t have to.”

He gives me that soft, perceptive look of his that makes me feel simultaneously grateful and transparent. “Yeah, I do.”

Luca tips his head toward the door. “Thanks, Sunshine,” he says to his boyfriend, and the way he looks at Sage nearly makes me divert my gaze.

Sage slips past me on his way out, pausing long enough to squeeze my arm once—just quiet contact. Then he’s gone, and the door clicks shut behind him.

Luca sits up straighter against the headboard. He was clearly halfway into winding down for the night, but every bit of that disappears behind the captain look he gets when somebody he loves walks in bleeding on the inside.

I stay standing for a second because saying it standing feels easier, as if I can still bolt if I hate the way it sounds once it’s out. My hands are jammed into my pockets so hard my knuckles ache.

“I need to tell you something,” I start.

Luca’s expression doesn’t change, but his whole body stills. “Okay.”

“It’s bad.” I let out a breath that feels scraped on the way out. “And if I tell you, you’re gonna be pissed.”