Page 81 of The Truth of Our Past

I’m dead.

“But—”

“You promised. You said if I didn’t want it, you’d take it to your gallery.” My heartbeat has taken over my entire body. It fills the space where my stomach used to be and every pulse travels through my body.

Mads’s hands cover her mouth as if she might be sick. Jayce reenters the shop but doesn’t ask any questions, folds her into his strong embrace, his front to her back, and kisses the top of her head.

She nods and waves her hand at the sculpture, but I know she’d rather fight me.

“It’s the best thing he’s ever done,” I say, and my words get stronger. “The world should know how talented he is. This could make him famous.” It’s not even a lie. I’ve spent years in museums and teaching myself about art. This is phenomenal. “Put it in his show. It’ll sell for a fortune.”

I didn’t know I’d fallen in love until he said he was leaving. First love’s torturous.

Jayce picks it up and lowers it into the crate. I can breathe again.

“That’s not a good idea.”

“He said it was mine and everyone should know how incredible he is.” The pain will be worth it if he succeeds.

It will be my gift to him. I can’t keep it. I can’t look at the reminder of what could’ve been if circumstances were different.

That statue belongs in the dream where Von sleeps in my bed and eats breakfast at my kitchen island and we fuck on the couch and in the shower. We tell each other everything and have a lifetime ahead of us. He finds kinky masterpiece theater in Brooklyn and helps me make decisions on a queer youth center. I knew all of it was impossible, but I let myself believe.

He nags me about my clothes on the floor, and I insult his coffee that takes a year and a half to brew. And he makes fun of me when I get my first gray hair, and I tell him he’s too old to rock a man bun.

That’s where the sculpture belongs, sitting in the middle of that.

It doesn’t belong in my empty apartment when he’s living halfway around the world.

Instead, it can bring him fame and fortune. It’s my way of wishing him the best.

I love him too much to touch it again.

Chapter thirty-six

Von

Impossible by James Arthur

Being back in Sweden ishelvete. My arrival has caused instant and insatiable speculation concerning my time in America and my abrupt return.

Local news stations and sports press immediately surrounded my condo in Stockholm. It’s not a loss to abandon the seldom used, cold, sterile unit. Everything is modern and sleek, a showpiece for another life. A life I’ve deliberately given up.

The drive to my grandparents’ farm is scenic and should help clear my head. Although they are long gone, the farm calls me home.

I went to America to avoid making decisions about a life without Boe andfotboll. I thought I found love and a new life to be proud of. Instead, I’m back more heartbroken than when I left.

I’m not sure how much more loss my heart can take.

Alec’s fear is infuriating.

My brain can rationalize his flight response when faced with the fact that I had to leave him. The betrayal of his parents runs deep in his soul. It made him believe he’s unlovable.

That is the farthest thing from the truth. Alec is selfless and loyal and has the biggest heart of any person I’ve ever met. He’s trying to make the world a better place through charity work. Alec has had nothing handed to him and he’s dedicated to helping others who struggle. He makes me a better man, realizing I can do more with my fame and money.

Those things add up to a very deserving and loveable person. He would do anything for his friends—they’re family.

Alec’s the one person in my life, outside of my family, I’m sure isn’t after my fame or money.

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