Space (Laws of Physics #2)(40)

Leo frowned, his glassy eyes turning thoughtful. “You love me, huh?”

I smirked at his ridiculous question. “Of course I do.”

He shook his head, his frown intensifying, and blurted, “Why don’t you like me touching you?”

I stiffened and held perfectly still.

But Leo had more questions. “Was it something I did? I know Lisa had her issues with me, and boarding school. We worked it out and I think we’re fine now. But what did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” I whispered, straightening to sit upright in my chair, but I didn’t completely withdraw. I covered his hand with mine. “You should sleep.”

Try being honest for once.

Leo might’ve been the one who was sick, but Abram’s words plagued me.

“There’s got to be something, Mona.” My brother’s eyes, the same color as mine and Lisa’s, as my mom’s, searched my face. “I’m really sorry, whatever it was.”

“It wasn’t you,” I said without meaning to, wanting to calm him.

It had the opposite effect.

Leo’s fingers tightened over mine, his eyes growing wider, suddenly fierce. “Then who was it?”

Try being honest for once.

Swallowing around a knot in my throat that threatened to bring with it a flood of memories, I glanced at the headboard behind him. I told myself for the billionth time that I’d given a meaningless and stupid incident too much power over me, over my relationships with my family, and my friends.

Nothing had happened. I wasn’t hurt. I was fine then and I was fine now.

Abram’s voice sounded between my ears, demanding, Try being honest for once.

I felt my lips curve downward in a frown. “Can we talk about this later?” I slipped my fingers from Leo’s, but didn’t remove my hand, covering his once again. “When your fever is below 100?”

Leo’s forehead twitched, he blinked his eyes, obviously having trouble keeping them open. “If someone hurt you—”

“No one hurt me,” I soothed, which I reminded myself was the truth. “But you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t sleep.”

He didn’t believe me, it was written all over his face. “Mona—”

“Go to sleep.” I stood, reached for the light on his side table and switched it off. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“Mona.”

“Leo. Sleep. Now.” I backed away toward the door, punctuating each word with a finger point even though he probably couldn’t see me. “And I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

The shiver of disquiet raced down my spine, causing me to wince, and making me grateful I’d turned off the light. “Sweet dreams, big brother.”

He grunted in response and shifted on the bed.

Reaching the door, I stepped backward to close it, and heard him say, “I love you, Mona.”

Smiling into the darkness, I answered, “I love you too, Leonardo DaVinci.”

He chuckled. I closed the door. I took a deep breath. And, after washing my hands of residual flu-like symptom causing germs, I forced my feet to carry me to the dining room where I knew dinner had already been served.

I craved quiet, but I didn’t know if that was because silence had become habitual, or if I actually wished for it. Regardless, I refused to remove myself to my room again, or use Leo’s sickness as an excuse to be absent. I could’ve stayed with him and avoided the crowd under the guise of watching my brother sleep. That would’ve made me a coward.

After years of wanting to see him, Abram was here, now. At best, he hated me. At worst, he was indifferent toward me. I thought maybe his true feelings fell someplace in between. Everything between us was officially over. Any possibility of a future between us was an asymptote of a curve, approaching zero reaching to infinity but never touching the axis. I was clear on all of that.

But I also recognized these next few days would be my last chance to be near him in any meaningful way. I could avoid him and all the uncomfortable, painful, breath-snatching feelings, or I could experience him and the feelings. Even if he hated me, even if I didn’t understand why I continued to feel so strongly about him, even if the only memories I made during this time were agonizing ones, I’d take agonizing over another black hole of nothingness.

And that was honestly the truth.

Walking into the dining room, I scanned the table, my chest seized when I spotted Abram sitting at the head. Next to him were Charlie on the left, and, on his right, the woman Connie Will (from sledding this afternoon) had referred to as Kaitlyn. She’d said they made music together, and they were very, very close—whatever that meant. Just thinking about it made my heart beat faster and darkness edge into the corners of my vision.

Indulging myself for a long moment, I let myself devour the image of Abram, tucking it away later for quiet moments, because he was smiling. Sure, he wasn’t smiling at me, but that didn’t matter. Seeing him happy, smiling, no matter the reason, did wonderful things to my heart. For some reason, his smile made me think of delicious ice cream—rocky road—in a cookie cone, a delectable, decadent, rare treat, best when savored, licked . . .

“Mona! I saved you a seat.”

Abram looked up at the sound of Allyn calling my name and our gazes collided, a crash of cymbals between my ears paired with a buzzing, static feedback loop. His smile fell precipitously, but he didn’t look away. Peripherally, I was aware of she-called-Kaitlyn turning to look, obviously checking to see what or who had darkened his mood.