He doesn’t say anything as he studies my face. Based on his expression, it seems like he doesn’t like seeing me cry. Not because he gets uncomfortable when a girl cries, but because it hurts him to see me upset.
“Sorry,” I say with a light laugh. “We were supposed to be enjoying a movie and I ruined everything.”
“Never.” He closes an arm around me and gently pulls me to his chest. “Don’t feel bad about anything. I just hate that you’re feeling crappy.”
“That’s okay.” I wipe my eyes again. “It’s good to think about my brother and sister from time to time. And it’s good to talk about them. I mean, if you don’t mind me talking about them.”
“Of course not. You can spend the next ten hours talking about them. I’ll listen to every word you say.”
His words cause warmth to take over every part of my body. I lay my head on his chest and spend the next half hour telling him as many details of them as possible. I try to draw on what I remember, but most of what I tell him is limited to Gina’s videos, since I don’t have a lot of memories with them. He doesn’t say a word the entire time and just listens to me, gently rubbing my arm or my back and smiling when I tell him a funny story. I also show him photos and videos of them. When I’m done, there are more tears raining down my cheeks and his shirt is wet.
“Sorry,” I say as I nod to it.
He shrugs. “I don’t care about that.” He tucks his fingers under my chin and raises my head so my eyes meet his. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “I feel so much better. Thanks for listening.”
“Of course.”
I lay my head back on his chest and we sit in silence. His chest rises and falls gently and I can feel the soft beat of his heart. I wish we could remain like this forever. It feels really good.
“I lost a close family member, too,” he says in a low voice.
I raise my head a few inches off his chest and search his eyes.
He nods slowly. “My dad. He died a month ago.”
“Amonthago?” I ask.
He nods.
“Oh my gosh,” I gasp as I throw my arms around him and hug him tight. “I didn’t know. It must be so hard for you. His death…it just happened.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and nods again, his body growing stiff.
“You don’t have to talk about him. This is still too raw.”
Rubbing his forehead and with his eyes still shut, he shakes his head. “I…want to tell you about him. The truth is, I haven’t spoken to anyone about him since he died.”
“Not even your mom?” I ask.
“No. Like I told you, we don’t talk.”
“Oh.” I wish I knew more details about their relationship, but it’s not my business. Damian will tell me if he wants to. But how hard must it be for him to have no one to talk to?
“He was everything to me,” he says, his eyes slowly fluttering open. “He was the best dad in the world. He always made sure I was happy and had everything I wanted or needed. Then he got sick with cancer and…” His body convulses as he tries to hold back tears. “I knew in my brain that he would die because that’s what the doctors told me. The cancer was too advanced and it spread all over his body. There was just no way…but a part of myheart refused to believe it. Like maybe he would survive by some miracle.”
A lone tear escapes the barrier, and he quickly wipes it away. “The one request my dad had on his deathbed was to see my mom. The woman he still loved. I called her a million times, sent her texts and emails, even left messages with the school secretary. But she never showed up. I don’t think I could ever forgive her for that.”
I bring my hand to his cheek and softly caress it.
“He was still in love with her after she treated him so badly,” he says, his voice laced with pain but also anger. “My dad was such a good guy. So kind and giving. And my mom just stomped all over his heart. How could someone be so cold?”
I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him as gently as I can, hoping I’m providing him with comfort.
“The divorce was so hard on him. He was crazy about her. Sometimes I wish…” He squeezes his eyes shut.
“What?” I ask.
