But I didn’t reach for her.I didn’t comfort her.I didn’t soften.Because the softness had been buried with my best friend.
Char’s voice turned pleading.“Dante, please.”
I held her gaze.And then I said it, the thing that had been living like a blade behind my teeth since the hospital.
“He will never be a problem for anyone again.”
The sentence was calm.Almost gentle.And it was the most terrifying thing I’d ever said.
Char’s face drained of color.Her eyes went wide, pupils blown, like she’d just realized the kind of darkness grief could forge.
Nita stepped forward instantly, hand grabbing my arm.“Dante,” she hissed.“Don’t.Don’t do something you can’t take back.”
I looked at Nita like she was speaking a language I didn’t understand.
“You can’t,” Nita’s voice shook.“I know you’re hurting, I know you’re—this isn’t you.”
I exhaled slowly, eyes still on Char.Char’s mouth opened like she wanted to speak but didn’t know what words could hold this moment.
Nita tightened her grip.“Dante, please.”
I turned my head toward her, just enough to meet her eyes.
“I lost my best friend,” I stated, voice even.“And I can’t ever get him back.”
Nita’s eyes filled with fresh tears.“Dante.”
“Too late, Nita.”The words were cold.“Do me a solid and take care of your sister.”
Nita’s face crumpled.“What are you saying?”
I looked back at Char.“I don’t know what could have been.We’ll never know.I’ll never be the man I was before and you deserve a man who can give you everything I can’t anymore.Live a good life Charlaina.Live a life full for Lamonte.Live a life free because the last thing I’ll do is make sure he can’t ever get to you again.You’re free, Char.Make it count.”
She stood very still, like if she moved the world might collapse.Her bruises were fading, but they were still there.Proof of what had happened.Proof of what he’d done.Her eyes were wet, scared, exhausted.And still—still she looked at me like she wanted to hold onto whatever part of me was left.
I stepped closer.
Char didn’t step back this time.
I lifted my hand slowly, fingertips brushing her cheek.
Her skin was cold from the wind.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I shook my head once.“Don’t be.”Then I leaned in and pressed my mouth to hers.
It wasn’t hungry.
It wasn’t soft.
It was a goodbye.
A seal.
A final promise that whatever we might’ve had, whatever could’ve been, was now something I was walking away from to keep it from getting ruined by what I was about to become.
Char made a small sound against my lips—broken, pleading.When I pulled back, her eyes were shining, wide and devastated.“Dante,” she whispered, voice trembling.“Don’t?—”
