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And why was I not strong enough to resist her?
The name causes her eyes to flare when she lifts her head, a softness trickling in for a split second.
A flicker of…relief.
She looks at me. She looks at me and in the single heartbeat that skips between us, I know we’re both thinking about that kiss.
We haven’t talked about it. Haven’t even mentioned it.
If it hadn’t burned its way through my skin, sizzling my bones and scarring the marrow, I’d have wondered if I imagined the whole thing.
When June and I walked out into the hospital parking lot the night Theo died, June held a prescription for an inhaler in one hand and my trembling palm in the other. It had only been hours since our lips tangled, our tongues twisted, and our bodies rocked against each other, shamefully tempted by something we should never think to crave.
But a lot can happen in a few hours, and it did.
The unthinkable happened.
At the end of the day, two tragedies occurred that night—and when placed together side by side, a forbidden kiss was nothing but a small crime.
So when June let go of my hand as our feet stalled beside my car and raised her chin, finding my eyes with a look of pure devastation, I gave her what she silently begged me for.
A mutual understanding.
An absolution.
A shared promise that we’d sweep it under the rug for good.
Erased.
And then we both shattered, falling apart in each other’s arms, rocking against one another in a completely different way. I peppered kisses into her hair with apology instead of want. I held her with comfort instead of passion. Our moans bled into the night with loss instead of lust.
June curls a piece of unwashed hair behind her ear, her grip tightening on the childhood elephant.
I dip my eyes.
She can’t see the truth hiding behind the wall of grief; I can’t let it free. I can’t let it whisper in her ear and spill my dark secret—that kissing her fundamentally changed me, and there’s no erasing it.
There’s only pretending.
Pressing forward, I keep my head down. “I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay,” I tell her, stepping up to the edge of the bed and placing my hands in the pockets of my shorts. “I’m only going to ask you what I can do to help ease even a fraction of your pain.”
A small sound breaks free. Angsty and raw.
I brave a glance at her still huddled in the corner, her bare legs stretching as she clings to her stuffed animal. Tears continue to track down flushed cheeks as her swollen eyes search my face. June slicks her tongue over her lips as she whispers, “A lullaby.”
A lullaby.
Our lullaby.
“I can do that.” My voice sounds frail. Far away. “Anything you need.”
She scoots over, gesturing for me to join her on the bed, inhaling a shuddery breath as she reins in her emotions. Her eyes don’t leave my face. Her clutch on the toy only strengthens.
Chewing on my cheek, I move toward her.
One leg raises, my knee pushing into the mattress, then the other. I crawl my way over to her until we’re shoulder to shoulder, side by side, and June instantly presses into me like I’m her personal cocoon. My arm lifts to wrap around her shoulders, tugging her closer, feeling her shake with a new wave of tears. She nuzzles her face to my chest, and I prop my chin atop her head.
We sit like that for a while, my back against the wall and June molded against my torso, a moment made of lilacs and melancholy.
