Milo was in a funk. And I couldn’t blame him. He’d come out to his friends, who weren’t really ever true friends, but they’d been a part of his life for almost a decade, and he’d lost his place to live all in one grand gesture. Which had been unbearably sweet. And scary. The moment when he’d reached for my hand was something I’d remember forever. My inner fourteen-year-old had waited years for him to stand in front of me like that, to stand up, not only for me but also himself. I’d wanted to cheer him on, even if my adult self understood that the real-world consequences sucked. So I got why he was brooding. I simply wished I had a way to make it better.

“Is that everything?” I asked as I closed a box of clothes.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He’d grudgingly let me handle packing up the closet with the boxes we’d picked up at my mom’s. She did so much online shopping that it had been easy to raid the stack awaiting recycling in the garage. And it hadn’t taken many boxes at all to pack up Milo’s tiny, bleak room at Luther and James’s apartment. Nothing on the walls, not even any of his amazing drawings. A bed and dresser he didn’t own. No signs of the Milo I’d come to know so well over the past few weeks. Even his art supplies and sketchbooks were a meager stack that he’d kept stored under his bed. We’d mainly packed in silence, and the quiet continued as we carried the last boxes down the single flight of stairs.

Milo didn’t spare a last glance for the place as he tossed a key on the kitchen counter, not that I blamed him. There was nothing homelike about this place. I wanted so much better for him.

“Are you sure your mom is cool with me parking there?” he asked when we reached our cars. A loaded-down classic car in the huge parking lot at school would be a major theft magnet, so when we’d grabbed the boxes, I’d asked Mom if Milo could park behind the garage, out of view from the street and curious passersby.

“Yes. I didn’t even have to tell her the whole story—”

“Might as well.” Sighing, Milo unlocked his car. “Everyone is going to know soon enough. Luther can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“As well I know.” I spared a glance around the deserted parking lot before patting his shoulder. “It should still be your choice who and how much you tell.”

“Ideally.” He pursed his mouth, looking off into the distance. Sad Milo always tugged at my heartstrings, but this version was something different and way harder to read.

“Hey. Are you mad at me? I didn’t make—”