Page 55 of Ricardo

I look at him. “You? Scared?” I say, trying to make a joke, but the lump in my throat won’t let me raise my voice higher than a whisper.

Dante does not smile.

That alone makes my chest tighten.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me. For you.”

I look down at my plate.

He is quiet for a moment, then says, “You used to tell me everything. Stupid things. Important things. Things you pretended were stupid because admitting they mattered made you uncomfortable.”

A shaky laugh leaves me. “That sounds like me.”

“It was you.” His voice stays low. “Then suddenly everything was fine. Always fine. Perfectly fine. Your answers got shorter. Your laugh got quieter, more practiced, and somehow rather fake. You stopped complaining about your mother, which was when I knew we had a real problem.”

I press my lips together, but a sound still escapes me.

Dante’s eyes soften.

“I didn’t know how to get to you without making it worse,” he says. “And I hated that.”

“I didn’t know how to get out,” I admit.

His jaw tightens.

“I knew I was unhappy. I knew I was lonely. I knew I missed you and I missed my life, but every time I tried to name what was happening, it sounded too small. Too ordinary. He didn’t lock me in a room. He didn’t forbid me from calling anyone. He just made everything harder until I stopped reaching.”

Dante’s hand curls around his fork, but he does not interrupt.

“I kept thinking, if I were stronger, I would fix it. If I were kinder, he would soften. If I explained better, he would understand.” I look down at my plate. “And then one day I realized I was spending all my energy trying to make a man treat me decently.”

Dante goes very still.

“Jules,” he says, and there is so much in my name that I have to look away.

“I know.”

“I’m glad you called.”

My throat burns.

“Me too,” I whisper.

“You’re here now.”

“I don’t want to disappear again,” I say, genuinely terrified.

“You won’t.”

I laugh softly. “Just like that?”

“No,” he says. “You’ll have bad days. You’ll cancel plans. You’ll want to retreat. You’ll want to go back where it was comfortable and easier to just go along with it.”

My stomach twists because the truth lands a little too close to home.

Dante sees it and leans closer, his voice quieter.

“But you’ll call me. Or I’ll call you. Or I’ll show up at your apartment with food and annoy you until you let me in.”