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I look at him.

“If Damiano were standing right here and you could tell him only one thing, what would it be?”

I close my eyes.

One thing.

I picture him in front of me. Dark hair, blue eyes, that crooked smile I would give anything to see again.

I expect I’d say I love you.

Maybe I miss you.

Maybe Please come back.

But the answer that comes out of my soul shocks me.

“I'm sorry.” I whisper it like even I don’t understand it.

My eyes open and another sob catches in my throat.

Why did I say that?

Jude doesn't look away. “What are you sorry for?”

“I don't know.”

But I do, because the second he asks, fear curls through my stomach and I don't want to look at it. I don't want to know why those were the words that came out.

I shake my head. “I can't.”

Jude doesn't push. He doesn't tell me I can or that I need to. He just stays there, holding me, and somehow his silence leaves me alone with the answer I've spent fourteen months avoiding.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

And I'm back there.

Damiano is lying in that hospital bed, terrified, begging them to give him chemo. Begging them to do something. Anything. Fighting every person who tried to tell him his body couldn't take any more.

Please.

I don't want to die.

And I stood there and watched it happen.

I let it happen.

Because there was nothing else I could do.

He wanted to keep fighting and I couldn't help him fight anymore. I couldn't make his body stronger. I couldn't make them give him another round of chemo. I couldn't do a fucking thing except stand beside him and watch while the one thing he wanted more than anything was taken away from him.

Life.

My hands fly to my face.

“I'm sorry.”

The words tear out of me now.