He chewed his lower lip. “No. I don’t think so. I wish it was me, but I don’t want to go full primal jealous rage or some shit like that.”

I would never say it to my best friend—the person I loved more than anyone in the world, except Huey now—but I was so fucking relieved. Where my parents had been apathetic to my existence, Devan’s hadn’t been. But not in a good way. His dad had beat him and his mom for as long as he could remember. He’d been violent. Mean. Right up until his mom overdosed on pain pills, and the authorities investigated. Hospital records were checked, and the abuse came to light. Six-year-old Devan went into foster care, and his dad went to prison, where he died of liver failure.

The shit Devan had dealt with in his life made me sick to my fucking stomach, and I knew he tried real hard to not be anything like his old man. He walked away when other men would fight. He was so fucking gentle with women and kids, the elderly. Anyone more vulnerable than him. And he kept a tight lock on his emotions, like he believed deep down that all it’d take was dropping the milk on the kitchen floor one morning to turn him into that raging psychopath.

I knew that Devan would rather cut off both arms than harm anyone. After a ton of therapy, I was fairly sure Devan knew that he wasn’t a ticking time bomb of violence too. But the fear remained, for both of us.

Instead of sharing any of those dark fears, I just raised my beer at him. “Same, man. I wish it was me, but I know my time will come.”

Devan was still shaking his head. “It’s not just the sex, Riv. It’s just being with her… it’s something else. She's so light and full of joy, despite everything. Being with her just makes me happier. She’s like a xanny in human form. I’ve never felt more, I don’t know, content.”

Well, fuck. I’d left this hardass alone with a girl for a week and he was about to write an ode in her honor. I didn’t tease him about it, though; I was so fucking happy he was content.

“Well, here’s to being boyfriends-in-law, I guess.”

I’d resisted the urge to steal Nova from Rigby’s bed that night, and the next. I didn’t want to rush her, and I didn’t want her to think that her only worth to us was if we were fucking. My therapist would’ve been so proud of me.