Headstrong Like Us (Like Us, #6)

by Krista Ritchie

“There’s something wrong with me.” His words suction oxygen out of the loft. “What do you fucking mean?” Ryke asks, wiping sweat off his forehead. “He’s in love with him,” Lo retorts. “Farrow is in love with my son.” It sucker-punches my gut. That he could tell at that point in time. Hell, that he’d even acknowledge this out loud. Lounging next to me on a beanbag, Maximoff slides his hand in mine. “You know Moffy is really fucking in love with him too?” “I had no clue,” he says dryly. Ryke outstretches his arms. “Then what’s the fucking problem, Lo? There’s nothing wrong with you—” “There is. I’m telling you there is,” Lo sneers with a frustrated groan. “You know what I thought when I realized my son and his boyfriend love each other? I thought, thank God. Because when I fuck up again, Moffy will have Farrow. It took me a full five goddamn minutes to even think, wow, I’m happy that my son found love. You know what that makes me?” Human. Maximoff stands up, our hands breaking apart. He’s brick-walled. I rise to my feet, and I follow him down the spiraled staircase to the first floor. No one in the loft is speaking, so I hear the TV clearly behind us. “You’re not a selfish bastard, Lo.”

This poor, broken man