Even now, I could remember his jock buddies and their stupid jokes and the way Milo had always stood there, mouth a tight line, eyes grim, shoulders stiff like he was next on the chopping block. Except he never was. He’d been a golden boy for the popular crowd, and I refused to let my brain process the idea of him doing things differently. Because what if we’d never argued? What if we’d stayed friends? What if he’d stood up for me? Too many what-ifs for my head to hold, that was for sure. And I just wasn’t ready for a world where Milo might have genuinely changed. Even if his apology felt good, believing in it—or him—would be beyond foolish.

Chapter Six

Milo

“I’m not late,” I announced, out of breath as I barreled through the hospital lobby to where Jasper stood. He was loaded down with a couple of bags, a large gold scepter, and a disturbingly accurate giant frog mask. My leg already ached from the fast walk from the bus stop, and I was pissed at it, missing the days when I could have easily jogged up to the hospital.

“Barely.” Jasper was smiling, but my chest was still tight. I’d been worried he’d assume I was going to bail and call the whole thing off. I’d had another message from Bruno the night before, underscoring how badly I needed Jasper’s help.

“Sorry. Bus took forever to come, but I made it.” Inhaling slowly, I tried to resume my normal voice without sounding too defiant. Didn’t need to start this thing off with my bad mood ruining our uncertain truce.

“That you did. And you actually beat some of the others. Come on, let’s get changed.” Jasper adjusted his bags, and I instinctively reached for two of them, leaving him with the props and his usual backpack. My hand grazed his shoulder, which was a miscalculation on my part. He was warm and solid and smelled like cedar, facts that my body took way too much notice of.

“Here. Let me help.” My voice was huskier than it needed to be as I shouldered the bags.

“Okay. Okay. Careful. The red one has all the intro decks we use for playing the kids.” Jasper strode across the lobby toward the restrooms, pausing near a soda machine to turn toward me. “And why don’t you have a car?”

Oh, how I hated questions like that. I got enough shit from my friends over my reliance on the area’s spotty transit. “I have a car. Just don’t like taking it out, especially in winter.”