Chapter Seven
AudenI close the door behind me and then look at St. Sebastian slouching in the middle of my foyer. Slouching as if he’s scowly and cross about being here, even though he was the one haunting my doorstep like a lonely cat before I got home.
But I know him well enough now to know that when he seems scowly, he’s actually uncertain, and to know that when he’s quiet and watchful, like he is now, he’s expecting to be hurt.
It gouges something in my chest to think he’s come to expect hurting from me.
I want to drop to his feet and apologize. For loving him, for making us play house even when it was a terrible idea, for pinning him against a museum wall and f*****g him like I was owed it.
But I also want him to drop to my feet. I want to haul him close and run my nose along
