Page 100 of Full Split

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “Because Mik’s about to call.”

“That’s cruel.”

“I know.”

I rest my head against his chest, the steady thump of his heart grounding me.

“I don’t want to go inside.”

“I know.”

When he kisses the top of my head and nudges me softly, I stand. And despite not wanting to be away from him for another night, I walk away feeling a lot closer to whole than I’ve felt in weeks.

Because he’s right. I’m not alone.

I never have been.

When I step back inside, the warmth hits me like a wave, but it doesn’t help. I feel cold to my bones just being separated from Wyatt. Mom is on the couch, a mug in her hands, the TV playing some muted late-night show she’s not even watching.

She glances up as I peel off my shoes. Her gaze flicks towards the back door, but she doesn’t say anything right away.

Then, casually, like we’re talking about the weather, she murmurs, “The trees in the backyard sure are sparse this time of year.”

I freeze.

She nods towards the window. “It’s almost thinned out enough that I can see straight through to the Lincoln’s backyard.”

I don’t know how to answer. I stand there like an idiot, heart racing, lungs locked up. The silence stretches long enough to be suffocating.

Mom just waits. Patient as ever. Calm in a way that’s a little threatening. Smirking because she knows all my secrets.

I don’t mean to. I don’t plan to. But the words come pouring out of me before I can stop them. I tell her everything that I’ve been dying to tell her, because I hate keeping things from her and next to Weston, she’s always been my best friend.

I tell her about Wyatt. About how everyone knows I’ve had the hots for him all these years, but that I’ve been truly in love with him for even longer than that. About how it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. How it’s real now. How I don’t know how to stop loving him, even if I wanted to. How I’m terrified that everyone is going to judge or hate us, but I don’t care enough to give him up.

I expect her to cut me off. To get angry. To tell me I’m being stupid and reckless. Maybe selfish, even. I expect her to yell and tell me she’s disappointed, or insist that I’ve been groomed or something horrible like that.

But when I finally force myself to look at her, she just sighs.

I blink, confused. “What?”

She gives me a small, tired smile. “I’ve known for weeks, Niles.”

I shake my head, unable to make sense of that. “How?”

“I’m your mother. I notice when you’re disappearing, slipping into the treehouse every other night, and walking out of bathrooms disheveled and not alone.” She blinks like it couldn’t have been more obvious. “I was just waiting for you to tell me.”

I stare at her, too stunned to speak.

“The age gap is concerning, but you’re an adult. And Lord knows no one can deny you once you decide you want something. I know you both well enough to know the power dynamic is not in his favor. And I’ve noticed a difference in him, too. These past couple of months, he’s been strange around me. A few times, I dare say he almost confessed.”

I huff out a laugh because that sounds about right.

“I hope he treats you right,” she says softly.

I swallow. “He does.”

“Good.”