“I don’t know…” he whispered. “I just…” He exhaled, the sound trembling. “I couldn’t leave you, crying like that, feeling that amount of hurt. I just couldn’t.”
“I told you to leave,” I whispered, almost feeling bad I had thrown him out.
“I know, but I still couldn’t. Even if you were going to shove me out the door again, I just don’t think I could…canleave you.”
My chest tightened as his words fell out, so pure, so sincere, and so true.
“Then I saw someone,” he added, his voice dropping lower. “Someone I haven’t seen in years.”
“Someone who died?” I asked, remembering how he had mentioned he often sees dead people at random times.
His throat bobbed. “Yeah.”
I sat up a little, the sheet clutched over me. “Who? Was it him? The…”
“No,” he paused, his brows pulling together as he thought. “Well, maybe.” Another pause. “But I saw my brother.”
The words were soft, broken open, and that was the part thatheld my attention.
“I’m sorry, Damian,” I said, uncertain if it was the right thing to say. He had only mentioned he had a brother, never why it was past tense. “What…what happened to him?”
“He died in the earthquake when we were kids, supposedly. We went for ice cream with my mom, and the building, it just…” He shook his head, like the memory of it all still didn’t make sense to him. “He wasn’t found, so we just concluded, you know. But…”
“What?” I held his hand, urging him to continue while letting him know that it was okay to.
“But I never saw his ghost, not once, not ever. I see everyone, strangers, spirits with unfinished business, people from a century ago. But never him, never the one person I wanted.”
A devastated quiet hung between us, as he exhaled and continued. “I only see him when I’m having a rough time, or falling apart…like today. I just imagine his ghost is there, helping me figure it out.”
I reached for his face without thinking, and he melted into my touch.
“Did you look for him?” I whispered.
His eyes glimmered with that old grief that never quite heals, one I understood way too well.
“Half my life,” he confirmed. “Searching every realm I knew, every sign, every whisper, until I stopped. Figured maybe he was the one ghost I’d never see, and I made peace with that.”
I tightened my hold on him. “I’m sorry. Losing someone twice…that must feel like drowning.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the words settle. Then he opened them again and leaned down, kissing me with a gentleness that nearly broke my ribs from the inside.
He pulled back just slightly, leaving our foreheads touching each other. “Thank you for choosing to live, Elena. In all the ways that brought you to that choice, thank you for making it,”he said, his voice was soft enough to melt bone, and God it did. It melted everything I had ever known, in ways that made me feel seen, alive, whole again. And as I gave a gentle nod, I felt the one warm drop of a tear fall down my cheek.
“Get up,” he whispered.
I blinked, confused. “Why?”
His thumb brushed my cheek, tender in a way that hurt. “Let me wash you, you must be sore.” He smiled, all knowing. It sounded like a confession, quiet devotion after a night that had nearly destroyed us.
When he helped me sit up, the house finally exhaled in a way it never had since I returned.
The house that once smelled of coffee, wood, and depression was now filled with the scents of tomatoes, basil and something buttery that Damian insisted wasn’t burning, even though the pan hissed like it was begging for mercy.
“Stir it slower,” I said, leaning over his shoulder, watching as he flicked the spoon twice as fast. “Damian.”
“Elena,” he called in response.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re doing it wrong, you see that, don’t you?” I laughed.
