Love, Milo

‘So, Milo, are you bringing the special lady to your father’s celebration party?’ My mother asks across the dinner table.

I swallow a sip of water, having my eyes rip away from the spec of rice falling on the tablecloth.

It’s been three days since I dropped off those pickles for Raelynn. I wonder what she thought of them and my note, whether she ate or threw them away. What I wrote is true; I’m just hoping she believes it… platonically, at least.

I’ve been staying at my parent’s house to look after my mother. She hasn’t been well for a long time, not since her diagnosis with Leukemia cancer.

I shrug, having difficulty looking at her in the eyes knowing Raelynn and I are not an actual couple. Lying to her has always been difficult.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

‘Not sure if she’d want to go. She isn’t used to this lifestyle.’ Neither does she know that my father is one of the wealthiest men in this city.

Morgan Evans. The Devil himself.

And I happen to be his son. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t introduce my most hated enemy to that man if I had anything to do with it.

‘Well, she is always welcome. I’d love to meet her,’ Mom says with a smile, followed by a series of whaling coughs that cause me to stand up from my chair at the dinner table. It screeches across the floor, and my heart nearly stops.

‘Mom,’ I say, walking towards her.

From upstairs, I hear my sister’s voice, ‘Milo! What’s going on?’ Her steps come racing downstairs, but my eyes are on Mom as she wheezes.

My breath shallows as I reach a shaking hand across the table for a glass of water and give it to her. ‘I’m calling 9-1-1.’

She raises her hand, shaking her head. Her coughs have stopped, and she takes the cup of water from my hand and sips it.

‘I’m fine, you guys. Just… got choked up on my rice, is all.’ She looks up, and I follow her gaze at the foot of the staircase across the house to Genesis.

Genesis stands tall, her eyes filled with tears and cheeks burning red. She’s seventeen, my beautiful, kindhearted little sister. Jet black strands of hair fall over her face, sticking to her cheeks with the tears that have fallen them, her eyes trained on our sick mother.

‘Gen, everything’s fine—’ I attempt to say, but she scoffs.

I press my lips together, knowing it wasn’t just Mom choking on rice. She’s sick, and she’s been sick, and Genesis isn’t stupid.

‘What do you all think I am?’ Genesis cries. ‘You can’t just lie to me, all right? You can’t just shut me out of what’s happening with all of this. I hate it!’

I sigh, ‘How do you expect anyone to tell you anything if this is how you act? Like a child.’

She steps closer to us, complicated steps, her hands in fists. ‘I’m not a child!’ She snaps.

‘Then stop acting like one!’

‘You colossal asshole—’

‘Enough!’ Mom attempts to shout but strains her voice. ‘Enough. Milo, be kinder to your sister. She’s trying her best. This is hard for all of us.’

Genesis’ eyebrows jump, ‘But not Dad.’ She says. I send her a glare, but she ignores it. ‘Where is he anyway? He’s God knows where while his sick wife is at home?’

Mom stands up, and I help her out of her chair and follow her finger towards the living room couch.

‘Morgan’s at a meeting,’ Mom says, though she sounds like she believes that no more than any of us. Meaning, not at all. ‘He should be home soon.’

I sit her down, ensuring she’s comfortable and hydrated, before grabbing her pills from the bathroom to see Genesis gone, probably up in her room now. I know I should be easy on her, but being so dependent on mom her entire life, seeing mom so sick is hard. After I’m done, I make my way upstairs, mentally reminding myself to clean the dinner table.

Genesis door is cracked open slightly. I knock once and walk in to see her balled up on her bed, her back facing me. Her room is as decorated as the entire house is, to the T. A circle mirror sits above her bed, and picture frames of mom and her friends from a private school are on the side walls—a dresser on the opposite end.

‘Get out,’ She mutters, not very convincingly.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, sitting beside her on the bed. ‘For keeping things about mom from you.’ I lean down on her pillows, and she slowly turns over, looking up at me with bloodshot eyes.

Her lip quivers as she speaks softly, ‘She’s going to die, isn’t she?’

I furrow my brows, shaking my head. ‘No, Gen, no. All right? She’s fine, she’s going to be fine.’ I take her head in my hand and bring her into a hug against my chest as she weeps, muffling her cries probably so Mom doesn’t hear her.

It’s been a year since the diagnosis, a long year of chemotherapy and doctor visits.

‘She’s going to be fine,’ I repeat once again, more for me than Genesis.

***

This morning, I woke up in Gen’s room. Not that that’s unusual; I’ve been forced to have sleepovers with her since she was around five years old and me thirteen. She never had other girls to play with; most of them were snobby bitches from a private school that I had to threaten a few times over the years.

If there’s one thing to know about me, I’d go to jail for my sister.

‘Milo, can you drop me off to track practice?’ Genesis asks to enter my old room. It’s been practically unused since I moved out and into the new apartment under Raelynn.

I shake my head, ‘I have to see someone today. Have you asked Morgan?’

‘I’d rather not ask him.’ She enters my room and flops onto my bed like a starfish. I wrap my tie around my collar in the mirror and see her raise an eyebrow at me.

‘Who’re you seeing? You’re new girlfriend?’ She wiggles her eyebrows.

I bite back the urge to tell her to fuck off. ‘ Mom wants her at that party tonight, so I’ll have to ask her now or never.’

She raises one brow. ‘You’re seriously going?’

Halfway through the tie, I stopped my movements. ‘Not like I have a choice. Hey— do I look casual?’

I turn to face her. What better way to get women’s advice than from another?

‘Casual? Like normal New York citizen casual or a rich-ass-business-man casual?’

‘The first one.’

She shakes her head, gets up, and walks to my closet, which is still filled with old clothing. ‘You look like you’re about to go to dinner with Elon Musk.’ Really?

She yanks out a few pieces and throws them on the bed: black slacks and a long-sleeve button-up.

‘Wear that. It’s the most casual set of clothes you have here. But don’t girls like the rich-ass-business-man style?’

I take the clothes from the bed and sigh. ‘Not this one.’

I dig in my pockets and throw her my car keys. She jumps and catches them and gasps.

‘You’re driving me?’

‘You need to get your own damn driver’s license already.’

She squeals, running to hug me for two seconds before gagging at the hug and retracting herself from around me, running out of the room and probably straight to my car.

I shake my head, looking back at the clothes and thinking of Raelynn.

How long will she need me to fake this relationship for her? And when she doesn’t need it anymore, what then? Do we stop speaking like nothing ever happened? Do we stay friends? For all it’s worth, I’d rather not know the answer to that yet.

***

It’s a little past noon when I drive up to Raelynn’s garden right after dropping Genesis off at track practice.

It’s the same garden she kissed me in. I honk to let her know I’m here by surprise. I need her number.

My mind goes back to that day, and I find my gut twisting at the thought of it. I close my eyes, leaning my head into my car seat. Her lips were so soft, so sweet against mine. Her slick, warm tongue glided with mine like butter, like they were meant to be together. I press a hand against the center of my slacks, against the bulge that’s been created, and the pressure only turns me on more. I hiss, removing my hand and groaning, shifting in my seat. Fuck me.

‘Milo?’

I jerk my body at the sound of my name. I put my arm on my bulge and look at Raelynn leaning on my window.

Her cleavage is on full display, and I feel like I might actually fucking pass out. They sit in a sports bra sort of top; overalls are the only thing covering her. But with her leaning over like this— fuck.

‘My eyes are up here,’ she raises her brows, and I clear my throat.

‘No— yeah, of course. I wasn’t…’ I feel my face burn, and I curse myself. And I curse Raelynn for being so… God damn sexy.

She bites her lip, and I have to look away at the road to contain myself. She’s enjoying this too much for me.

‘Right, well, if you’re just sitting here to stare at my boobs, you can do that from afar while I plant,’ She says.

I almost take her up on her option. ‘Did you get the pickles?’

She nods, pushing a curl that falls over her face out of the way. ‘Yeah, thanks, by the way.’ Her voice softens.

I stare at her briefly before unlocking the doors, ‘Get in.’

‘Where to?’

‘Just get in, and I’ll show you.’

She nips on her cheek from the inside as if nervous. ‘I’m dirty and wet, and I don’t want to mess up your car.’

‘How wet?’

Stepping back, she shows me her soil-covered overalls that I’ve come to like—dark spots on the material shows where the water sits.

That’s not what I meant.

But my eyes scale down her figure and I shrug. ‘My car will live.’ Reaching over the console, I push open the door.

Raelynn crosses her arms. ‘No, I’m not getting in there like this, Milo. I’m filthy. Wherever you’re taking me, I need to change first.

I groan at her stubbornness and step out of my car, walking towards the trunk where I still have some clothes from the move. Opening it, I take out a white button-up shirt and sweatpants, shut the trunk, and walk around toward her.

‘Here, wear these. We have an appointment to get to.’

She grabs the clothes, and confusion crosses her face. ‘Appointment?’

‘Mhm. Now go change, love.’ I walk away and around the front to get back into my car while Raelynn steps back into her garden to change.

She locks the front gate but doesn’t go inside the greenhouse or little shed as I expected.

Instead, in full display to anyone walking past this street, she unbuttons her overall, letting them drop to her feet. She’s left in her bra top and underwear, and I’m riled up more than I’ve been in a long time staring at the curves of her body.

Her bronze skin looks so soft, the round of her ass moving as she goes to step out of her overalls. Her locks of hair brushes against her shoulder blades, and my eyes scale up and down her body the entire time.

Slipping on my white button-up and going to button it over her breast, the end seam barely covers her ass.

She slips on my sweatpants, stringing them tight against her waist and tying it before turning to the gate and opening it back up.

She walks to me and steps into the car.

Her hands go up, she gathers her curls into a high ponytail, and I raise an eyebrow at her.

She glances at me, then grimaces, ‘Gross, don’t even think about it. It’s hot; I’m hot.’

Yes, you are, darling.

‘Think about what? I wasn’t thinking about anything.’

She rolls her eyes, the corner of her mouth rising, ‘Right.’

She shuts the door and pulls her seatbelt down, and without a second to spare, I press down on the gas, driving into the street.

All while living through the pain that resides between my legs.