He turns to me and holds my gaze, his own heavy with sadness, and I know he’s not fishing for compliments. It’s like he truly doesn’t understand why I care about him so much.
“You were my friend first and foremost,” I say. “One of the first friends I made on campus. You pushed me out of my comfort zone in the best way. You made me feel cared for and safe. And above all, you always made me laugh. From the very start, you had me cracking up at a time when I didn’t have all that much to smile about.”
I smile at him now, but it doesn’t seem to penetrate his sadness.
In a dark, heavy tone, he says, “I really wish I could be that guy for you again, Stevie. The one who cracks jokes and pulls off pranks and puts that sparkle in your eyes with no more than a witty comeback.” He brushes his fingers across my cheek and smiles, but his eyes are full of pain. When he speaks again, his voice is a broken whisper. “More thananything, I wish I could be him. But that guy is dead.I’mdead. That’s how it feels when you tell me these things. It’s like you’re talking about someone else—someone I barely even remember.”
“No,” I say, my heart breaking for him. “You asked me why I love you, but the truth is, I can’t put it into words like a list. It goes beyond words. Beyond anything I can consciously express. Those things I mentioned? They’re just facets of you, Ani. A handful of so many, many things that make you who you are.”
“WhoamI, though? I don’t even know anymore.”
His pain is strong enough to make me ache.
“Ani.Ansel.” I take his face between my hands, still holding his gaze. “You’re the man I fell in love with. The man I want to build a life with. You’re my family.Ourfamily.”
He doesn’t believe me. I can feel it in his energy. He’s so closed off and ashamed, there’s no room inside him for this truth.
Breaking away from my touch, he glances out across the rim. Other than the soft glow cast by our dwindling fire, there’s no light on the rocks. Only darkness.
“There was a time when I could give you the sunrise,” he says. “And now—”
“And now I’m givingyouthe stars.” I take his hand and lean back onto the blankets, tugging him down with me. He doesn’t resist.
When we’re both settled on our backs, we look up at the night sky. It’s a riot of stars, an explosion that glitters from here to eternity.
“Wow,” he breathes.
“Told you.” I nudge his arm, and a tiny laugh escapes his lips.
I lace our fingers together and let the silence drift between us again. There’s so much more I need to say—so much more he needs to know.
Goddess, why is this so hard.
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of the dead on my chest.
“I need to tell you something,” I say softly, knowing I can’t put it off any longer. “It’s about what happened in California.”
He stiffens beside me, but I feel the curiosity in his energy.
I swallow through the knot in my throat, forcing myself to say the words, because no matter how painful this is, Ani deserves to know. “Casey was able to access the list of… the names. The people who died. Your mother and your… The man who raised you… they’re dead, Ani. It’s been confirmed.”
The air rushes from his lungs. “And my—”
“No,” I say, already knowing what he’s going to ask. I turn onto my hip, placing my hand over his heart. Beneath it, I hold the small card Casey gave me. There’s a phone number written on one side, an address on the other. “Your sister wasn’t in California at the time of the attack. She was visiting a friend in New York, and she’s staying there now.” I slip the card into his shirt pocket. “You can get in touch with her if you want to. Or not—it’s totally up to you. I just wanted you to know she’s alive, and you have a choice.”
“Thank you,” he whispers. “I—”
It’s all he can get out before his throat closes up. He turns away from me and rolls onto his side. Soft sobs wrack his body. It reminds me of the nightmares.
There are no words to make this better for him, to take away his pain, and I’ve never felt so helpless.
Worse? I know this is just the beginning. There will be more nights like this one. More nightmares. More guilt. More trauma revisited. More pain.
We spend our lives running from ghosts—not because we can actually escape them, but because it makes us feel like we’re doing something in the face of utter helplessness. But running, no matter how hard it feels, is actually the easy part.
It’s when the ghosts finally catch up to you—and they always do—and you’ve got no choice but to face them head on. That’s when the real work starts.
“What should I do?” Ani whispers, his shoulders still shaking.
