No anger. No sarcasm. No clever retort. Just the raw weight of that sentence, crushing and intimate and awful. I don’t know how to hold it.
I don’t know how to survive it.
My fingers loosen slightly on the book, and my throat hurts from the emotions I’m choking on. “That’s not—”
“It is.” His voice is rougher now, like the honesty scraped his throat on the way out. “You don’t get to rewrite it into something smaller so you can stomach it.”
My chest burns, and I want to sob. “I didn’t know.”
His mouth curves, but it isn’t humor. It’s pain wearing a smile. “Does it change anything?”
I swallow hard. “Why would you—why would you do all of this over—over a summer?”
His eyes flash, and for a moment, the monster returns, furious and sharp.
“A summer,” he repeats, voice dropping. “That’s what you call it?”
I flinch.
He sees it and exhales, long and controlled, as if he’s forcing himself not to snap.
“You were the only part of my life that ever felt like I wasn’t drowning.” His voice comes out quieter, almost raw. “And then you vanished. And I had to learn how to breathe underwater.”
My chest aches so sharply it makes me dizzy.
I hate it.
I hate that some part of me wants to reach for him, to fix it, to undo it.
I hate that I can’t because I’m still angry. Still trapped. Still wearing his ring like a brand.
My voice comes out brittle. “So you decided to drown me too.”
“I decided you don’t get to walk away clean.”
I choke on a laugh that isn’t really a laugh. “You’re—” I swallow. “You’re insane.”
His smile returns, slow and wicked. “Yes.”
“And what am I supposed to do with that? With . . . whatever this is?”
“I guess you can read.” He shrugs. “Learn how stories like ours end.”
I lift my chin, forcing steel back into my voice even as my heart trembles like a traitor.
“And if I don’t like the ending?”
Lorenzo’s eyes glitter. “Then change it. But don’t pretend you can escape it.”
The air between us hums.
We’re so close now, I can feel the heat off his body. So close that if I lifted onto my tiptoes, our lips could touch . . .
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
He steps back suddenly like he’s pulled away from something that might burn him.
His voice turns sharper, more controlled. “Put it back.”
