“Does Lo know?” I ask. He frowns. “About what?” “Russian, French, all of that.” He shakes his head. “No. It doesn’t matter.” “But…it makes you, you,” I say. “It’s a part of who you are, isn’t it?” His jaw hardens. “It’s not a part I like to fucking remember, Daisy.” Being controlled by his mom, he means. I think he chooses to forget so much from his childhood that it’s made him into some shadowy figure that’s just as tormented as his brother. I stand on the tips of my toes and kiss his cheek. “Thanks for telling me the truth.” The elevator doors open, and I head out of them. He catches my
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i love how open and honest they are with each other
