Page 61 of Everything But Mine

When the bass rises, my shoulders loosen, and my hips catch the rhythm without effort. It’s a thick beat with attitude that dares you to forget your shame. Diego’s hips press into mine, his hands steady at my sides. It might look indecent, but it’s practiced childish mischief. His body moves with mine in that smooth, serpentine way he has.

He sings along, wine on his breath, then grins. I lower my back and arch his way. He smacks me, laughing until the beat shifts to a melodic Latin tempo I don’t recognize. Diego grabs my hand and waist and switches our dancing.

“How are things with Eric?”

I relax my arms around his shoulders. “They’re what they’ve always been.” I lie, or maybe I speak the truth. Eric and I have always existed in this gray space, just shy of something. And Daray, and how fast things went with him, helped keep things neat between us. Made it easier to keep my guard up.

Diego chuckles. “You’ve always been a bad liar.”

“I am not,” I say, nudging him with my hip.

He grins and pokes my ribs. “Shh. It’s a compliment.”

We fall into a lull as the music dips into the chorus. It’s rare for Diego not to fill the silence. Usually, he’s twirling or lip-syncing. Now, he’s taking his time, finding the right words to go with the beat.

“I know you worry about him,” he says finally. “You should. He deserves that kind of loyalty. After you left for Milan… He wore his dejection like a fucking badge of honor.”

My whole body stills. I lose the beat, and Diego steps on my foot. A tremor rolls through me, and it catches in my throat. “You know about that?” I ask. “He told you?”

Diego looks confused for half a second. Then his brows furrow. “Wait… he told you?”

“Yeah, I mean…” I say slowly. “He made it seem like it was an accident. He wasn’t all there. He’d been drinking. And the river was high. Still, I think he wanted something bad to happen. I thought—” My voice falters.

Diego steps back slightly as if the floor just shifted beneath him. “Wait… Are you talking about that winter? Before you moved back?”

I nod. “That first night when I visited for Christmas. He scared the hell out of me.”

“Wait, so he did it again?” he asks.

“What do you mean again?”

“Fuck me. You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what, Diego?” I press. “I thought that was it. That I was there for the worst of it.” I swallow. “Was that not the worst of it?”

His face goes pale. He shakes his head slowly, then presses his mouth.

“Diego.”

He won’t meet my eyes. “Shit.” He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “I thought you knew. I thought that’s what you were talking about. Amanda, I didn’t know about that thing with the river.”

I stare at him.

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he says, but the dam’s already broken. “When you left for Italy… He was in a dark place. And I know you were justified to leave. I know he fucked up… but Amanda, do you really not know?”

He swallows. I shake my head as I say, “I know he fell in the river. And it was scary, Diego. It was so scary that I slept in his bed and moved the fuck back.”

He nods, then exhales slowly. “You remember when I visited you in Milan? That was like six weeks after you left, right?”

I nod. “Right before the Harvest Festival.”

He pulls me very close, and until his lips brush my ear when he whispers, “A few weeks after you left, about a week before I came to Milan… I couldn’t get hold of Eric. Like, nothing. For two days, Amanda. I had been checking in on him daily since you left. I had a bad feeling and a key to his place. So I left work in the middle of my shift and went there.” I already know. My stomach drops before he finishes. “He was passed out drunk on the bathroom floor. Alone. Empty bottles everywhere. I had to break the door to get in.” Diego pauses, his voice thinning. “I got him to the ER. They kept him on a psych hold. For days. He didn’t want anyone to know. But he talked to me, half-conscious, mumbling shit. It’s the only reason I know what he did.” He looks up finally, and there are tears in his eyes. “That’s how I knew it wasn’t just the alcohol. Amanda… I don’t think he expected anyone to find him.”

My hands go slack at my sides. The music is still playing, but it might as well be silent. I turn away from him because I don’t trust what’s about to come out of my mouth. My hands are shaking.

“You should’ve told me,” I say, low. “I would have come back. I came back thinking it was just the river.” I swallow. “You let me think he was fine.” I am so pissed, but it isn’t at Diego. This is on me.

His face folds. “I know. God, I know. But you have to believe me. It wasn’t Eric. He didn’t ask me to lie. He didn’t ask me to hide it from you. Just from his mom.”