We stay like that for almost an hour—letting him retell the same game he’s told me a dozen times, cheering the highlights, asking questions when he pauses. Luke jumps in naturally—laughing at the right moments, nodding along, even squeezing Xavier’s shoulder once like they’re old teammates. No pity. No awkwardness. Just presence.
When Xavier starts to tire, eyes drifting, I lean in one last time.
“Thanks for telling us, man. We’ll come back soon.”
He gives a tired smile. “Bring the kid next time. Number 12.”
I choke on a laugh. “Will do.”
FORTY-ONE
LUKE
“That was… different.”
Silas’s voice is quiet, almost surprised, like he’s tasting the words before letting them out. He keeps his eyes on the road, but his fingers flex around the steering wheel, knuckles whitening for a second before relaxing.
I glance over at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He exhales slowly, the sound almost a laugh but softer. “I think it’s the first time I haven’t felt guilty when leaving him. Like… I could breathe the whole drive out of the parking lot.”
My chest tightens—in a good way. I reach across the console and lace our fingers together, thumb brushing over his knuckles. His hand is warm, steady, still carrying the faint tremor from earlier.
“We can come again next week if you want,” I say, keeping my voice easy. No pressure. Just an offer.
He turns toward me at the next red light, that soft smile tugging at his lips—the one that still makes my stomachflip even after all these weeks. “Thank you. For being here. For understanding.”
My heart beats wildly inside my chest, loud enough I swear he can hear it. I do understand. The grief, the guilt, the love that doesn’t vanish just because the person you loved can’t remember it. I will be here for him like this for as long as he wants me to be. The situation isn’t clean-cut or normal, but I don’t think either of us has ever been normal. And that’s okay.
“Always,” I whisper.
He leans over the console and presses a soft kiss to my lips—gentle, lingering just long enough that the light turns green, and someone behind us honks. We both laugh, startled, and he settles back into his seat, still holding my hand.
“Te amo, hermoso.”
The words land warm and sure. I squeeze his fingers. “Love you too.”
We drive in comfortable quiet for a few minutes, the city sliding past in soft late morning light. Then I remember the text from Mom this morning.
“Hey,” I say, glancing at him again. “Speaking of family…my parents do Sunday dinner every week. Same time, same awkward small talk. I still go. Even when it’s…tense.”
Silas’s thumb pauses on my hand. “They still think it’s a phase?”
“Yeah.” I shrug, trying to keep my voice light. “Mom especially. Dad just…doesn’t say much. I told them months ago that who I love isn’t up for discussion. That if they want me there, they accept me as I am. They haven’t kicked me out or anything, but it’s…stiff. Polite. Like I’m a stranger they feel obligated to make small talk with. I used to go just as a little fuck you, I’m me…but now…I don’tknow. Yeah, they are crappy parents—but they are the only ones I have.”
He’s quiet for a beat. “You want me to come?”
I glance at him—really look. There’s no hesitation in his eyes, just steady willingness. “Only if you want to. I’m not asking you to fix anything. I’ve already set the boundary. They know I’m not changing. But… I’d like them to meet you. The real you. Not the version they’ve built in their heads from the gossip. And maybe…maybe seeing us together will crack something open. Even just a little.”
Silas nods slowly. “I’d like that. If you’re sure.”
“I am. But you might regret it.” I grin over at him, and he shakes his head with a smile.
He really doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into with agreeing to go. But if we are really doing this, and we aren’t going to be a secret, that includes my parents.
Sunday comes fast.
The house looks the same as it did in high school.
