How could he stand up there, so righteous and composed, and talk about us like we were somehow wrong? Like we were a fucking weakness instead of a love that felt like oxygen?
I wanted to scream. Cry. Use my fists in a way that would cause physical harm.
Somehow I’d found myself heading east, entering the quiet park at Tudor City Greens. To my right, lights were strung up at the far end, faint laughter echoing from a gathering happening, which was the last thing I wanted to be around. I headed in the opposite direction, through a small garden with several empty benches and not one other soul around, and sank down onto one.
Good timing, too, because I didn’t trust my shaky legs for much longer.
I dropped my head into my hands and tried to breathe through the overwhelming panic rising inside me. I’d never gotten over Rafael. I’d built a life—hell, a kingdom—around the parts of myself that had survived without him. I had brothersnow, a found family who would burn the world down for me without asking why.
I had purpose. Power. Belonging.
The only thing missing in my life…was him.
The second I closed my eyes, the memory I always tried to avoid, the one I couldn’t bear to think about, slammed into me.
The night everything ended.
IT WAS SO quiet in the church garden that you’d never know the bustling streets of Manhattan surrounded us. Almost like you weren’t allowed to speak, which was why it was never my favorite place.
It was, however, the place I knew I’d find Rafael.
I made my way through the hedges, and the heavy, sweet scent of the roses in full bloom filled my nose. Combined with the heat and humidity, it was too much, and I was tempted to grab Rafael and take him somewhere away from here—but as I turned the corner, the sight of him stopped me short.
He stood by the fountain in a rumpled black suit, his tie loosened around his neck, his shoulders hunched over from carrying the weight of the world on them for weeks. Even from where I stood I could see the way his eyes were rimmed red, both from holding back his tears all day and from not sleeping enough.
He wasn’t eating enough either, but that was a fight for another day. I couldn’t blame him for falling apart, not when his parents had been gone now for weeks. It was all I could do to be there for him when he kept pushing me away, but I needed him to know I was here. I’d always be here. I could hold him together while he unraveled, and while he healed.
Maybe today would be the start of that. After weeks of dealing with paperwork and funerals and shock, the membersof the church had gotten together to hold a memorial for his parents, a celebration of their lives and contributions. I thought maybe this would help Rafael, but looking at him now, it seemed to only remind him of what he’d lost.
“Rafael,” I said softly, moving in closer.
But he didn’t look at me. His fingers traced the stone edge of the fountain that had already been shut off for the night.
“I can’t do this anymore.” The words were so careful, so quiet, I thought I’d imagined them.
My stomach dropped. “Do what?”
He stopped tracing the fountain, his fingers curling around the edge like he needed something to hold on to. Fear skated up my spine, a sense of dread filling me, but I didn’t know why. He could’ve been talking about anything. Why did it feel directed at me?
“Talk to me,” I said, my voice somehow coming out steadier than I felt. “What can’t you do?”
He finally looked up, and the expression in his eyes shook me to my core. They were much paler than usual, exhausted, but there was something else in them too—resolve. “I can’t be divided anymore. I can’t be yoursandHis.”
My entire world stopped.
Then slowly rebooted.
Rafael was just hurting. He didn’t know what he was saying.
“You’ve always been both,” I said, and somehow I even managed a small half-smile before adding, “See? I can share.”
But he didn’t crack a smile at that, didn’t even seem to hear what I’d said. “I’ve been pretending I could have both, but I can’t.”
“Rafael.” I stepped closer and stopped short of reaching for him. “You just buried your parents. You’re grieving. This isn’t the time to be making decisions.”
A humorless laugh escaped him. “It’s the only time that makes sense.”
“It’s not?—”
