But I Love Him Read Online Free PDF Page A

for him to understand. I need him to understand. If he knew, he wouldn’t feel like he does. He’d know he can take on the world, he’d know we are unstoppable together. He’d know it’s us against them.
    Soon, he will understand, because the sculpture is almost done. The glue has to cure for a few more days. And then I will give it to him, and then he’ll finally see.
    “Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks.
    The movie isn’t over, but I nod anyway. We’ve seen this film a half-dozen times because it’s one of Connor’s favorites.
    He hands me his jacket, the one I always wear. I slip it over my shoulders and push my arms into the sleeves. They’re big and warm. I feel good inside it, like it’s a coat of armor. He never wears jackets. He never feels cold, I guess.
    His apartment complex is small, so we’re out of the lot in thirty seconds, walking down the road. The wet pavement sparkles under the streetlamps, a mid-summer rain that can’t dampen our mood.
    We walk hand-in-hand through the little residential neighborhoods, past all the broken-down cars and ugly chain-link fences. A pit bull growls at us, but Connor just flips it off. I don’t know why he does that. It’s not like the dog cares.
    Eventually, the houses get bigger. The fences become wood. The cars get shinier. We’re back to the land of the privileged, the ones who have no idea the kinds of things that go on behind closed doors. I once belonged to this world, but I don’t think it ever belonged to me.
    And then before we can get lost in our walk, like we usually do, I see him, and my heart leaps into my throat and I can’t breathe.
    Everything around him fades and all I see is him, and I know he sees us, because he is just standing next to his car, frozen, one hand still on the door. He stares straight at me, as if he’s caught in headlights. As if we won’t see him if only he doesn’t move.
    He knows what will happen if Connor sees him. Just as I know.
    How did I not notice that we’d drifted into his neighborhood? How could I be so stupid as to bring Connor here?
    “Let’s, um, let’s go this way,” I say, tugging on Connor’s arm. He can’t see him. Not tonight. Not when everything is going so well and I just want to be with him and I just want the drama to stop and I just want to forget that everything is so fucked up. I just want to walk in the darkness and forget all this and now I can’t.
    Because Connor sees Blake. He sees him and he’s letting go of my hand and walking straight at him. I recognize his posture. It’s gone rigid. His shoulders are square, his hands are in fists. His strides are long and purposeful. I know every muscle in his body is tense. Ready.
    And I know what’s coming.
    It’s Connor who takes the first swing. Blake goes down, sprawling across the concrete that I’d thought looked so pretty with fresh rain just moments before.
    But it’s not rain on the road anymore. It’s blood.
    I fall to my knees, just as Blake has. All these months of protecting him. All this time playing peacekeeper and martyr and smoothing out the edges of the conversations and downplaying everything and avoiding Blake and never once mentioning his name.
    And it’s over, and they’re fighting.
    But Blake doesn’t go down that easily. He gets back up and I hear the crack his fist makes as it connects with Connor’s chin. I see him in a way I’ve never seen him. Angry. And I know it’s because of me. I know all these months that Blake’s wanted this, he’s wanted to take Connor and shake him and scream at him and make him see what he’s done to me.
    All those times I stood in front of him, those words swam in his eyes, but none of them were spoken. And now it has come to this. This is what I’ve caused.
    A porch light flicks on and someone’s door creaks open. A man’s voice shouts out.
    A car alarm goes off when Connor backs up and falls half onto the hood. He kicks Blake in the leg and Blake grunts with the