Page 105 of Not Dating Material

“Ask what you want, then.”

“What was your childhood like?”

“A nightmare. Next question.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but you can. If you want to talk about it. I know you have Xander, but—”

“Xander isn’t you.”

I meet his eyes, unexpectedly thrilled by that comment. “No, I know that, but—”

“I don’t think you do.” He rolls over onto his side, and I mirror him. “Look, I’m not a big softie or whatever, but I like spending time with you. Just you. While you and Xander might be similar in some ways, you’re different in all the ones that matter. You’re not like anyone else in my life, and I like it that way.”

I tuck my hands under my cheek. “You’re making it really hard for me to keep my promise.”

Seven laughs. “Yeah … I’m done saying things though, if that helps.”

There’s a short silence before I end it. “When I was little, I used to think my mom would come back.”

He blinks like I’ve caught him by surprise, but I keep talking.

“I don’t remember her all that much. Just this vague sense that if I wanted it enough, it would happen. Dad said I used to ask about her all the time, and I know it killed him because he was the best. I just didn’t know it back then.” Or now, apparently. “I got cranky with him today when he was worried about me. I wish I could stop taking him for granted.”

“I …” He frowns. “I don’t know what that’s like.”

“Was it hard?”

“Yeah. Very. The, umm, the first few homes were only short stays. I barely remember them.”

I don’t say anything in case he stops talking, but I slowly reach for his hand.

His fingers link through mine, and Seven stares at our joined hands for a moment. “The first place that was long-term … I thought I’d hit the jackpot.”

“Why?”

“They were rich. Bought me everything. Got a big room to myself. At thirteen, after spending my life with nothing but bruises and then being passed around places I didn’t fit in, it was heaven.”

I nod, even as Seven draws a long breath.

“Anyway, it turned out not so great. They had a son who … thought he was entitled. To everything. Even me.”

I pick up on what he’s saying, and the pain in my chest almost brings me to tears. “Seven …”

“Seriously, don’t. His parents found out a few months after it started, sent me back. Said it was for my own good, but they told my case manager it was because I was causing trouble. Took me forever to find a place after that, especially because I turned kinda aggressive at that stage. Even when you’re fourteen and have been shat on your whole life, people still want you to act like an innocent, happy kid. Just before I turned seventeen, a couple with experience in high-risk teens took me in. They didn’t know what happened, but they knew enough to get me therapy. It helped me not to go totally off the deep end, and then Xander showed up.”

My grip on his tightens.

“By that point, he was feral. Lashed out at everyone, stole and broke people’s things, but was a complete angel to our fosters. Until they didn’t give him attention, and then he’d have one of his attacks. He came from severe neglect, and while these fosters were great, they were a last-stop home. They were kind, and I wouldn’t be who I am without their help, but didn’t try to be a substitute for parents. They gave us what we needed, booked therapy, helped us with bank accounts and jobs, basically set us up ready for adulthood. They didn’t give Xander the connection he needed, so I did. We kept each other safe. But I moved out before him, and his therapist said it was healthy for us to have time apart.” His chuckle is dark.

“Let me guess, not so healthy?”

“Xander snapped. He had attacks every other day, didn’t stop asking for me, kept trying to leave to come and find me. They had him admitted to a psychiatric ward, but they couldn’t hold him because he knew exactly what he needed to do to get out of there. In the end, they let us have visits, and the second he was old enough, he moved in with me.”

“Holy shit,” I mutter.

Seven’s eyes are all shiny. “He’s doing a lot better now, but that’s why when I say we’re for life, I mean it.”

“And what about you?”

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