Page 149 of Sorrow & Strangers

Rafe wraps his heavy arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side, kissing my head. “No one ever is,” he says, as I tuck myself against him.

I glance at him as we walk in silence. He has so much to give, and I wonder what he is looking for. What kind of being would it take to get past his defenses?

“Thanks,” Rafe says, breaking the silence again. “For making me go.”

“Thanks for trusting me.” I smile. “I love you, Rafey.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “You’re a sap.”

I elbow him lightly in the ribs.

“I love you too,” he grumbles, and I lean against him.

We arrive home and head straight to the kitchen for some water.

“He’s got a reputation, you know,” Rafe says.

I blink and put my glass down. “Who?”

“Max.”

I roll my eyes. Are we still talking about this?

“He’s a notorious player. Many have tried to pin him down, and many have failed.”

“Rafe, what do you think is happening here?”

“I think my sister looks less dead since she’s started hooking up with someone, but she’s being stubborn because she thinks it’s going to turn into some lifelong commitment.”

“I love Connor,” I say, my heart squeezing with the physical reality of the statement. But there is also a nugget of my inner truth that I can’t ignore. The stranger makes me feel alive.

Rafe nods. “I know. I also know that this is how you and Connor started. You started sleeping with him, and he wore you down until you fell in love with his stupid self. But this is different.”

“How?”

“Max isn’t Connor,” he says. “But also, you are a very different person than you were when you met Connor. You have a better idea of what you want now.”

“I want Connor,” I say with a shrug.

“Sum, he’s not coming back. You are free of any commitment you made to him,” he says, and while I know it is the truth, it still hurts to hear. I brush my finger over my empty ring finger, and I have the urge to check on the ring sitting next to my sprig in my bedside drawer. Another memory. Another sliver of my past. Two of my most important possessions side by side in the drawer of grief.

“But—”

Rafe pulls me into a hug. “We’re moving on.”

“I don’t want anyone else, Rafe,” I say, my voice hitching and my stomach curdling a little.

“You don’t have to. We both just have to stop standing still.”

“We’ll move forward together,” I say, and Rafe nods. I’m not sure he ­realizes how much he needed this today. He needed to see that his life isn’t over, to know that it might be lighter in the future.

I take a drink of water before I ask. “Do you think maybe you’ll start dating?”

“Maybe,” he says, and the answer surprises me. I expected an immovable no.

I smile. “Good. You should. You know, there is a whole club of girls who thirst over demons.” I think for a moment. “I believe it’s called Horny for Horns.”

Rafe’s brows draw in something close to horror. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for that, but maybe I’ll be more open to meeting someone.” He gives me a pointed look. “And so should you.”