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Ibrush his hair away from his forehead and touch his cheek. “What, hon?”
Thosebrown eyes meet mine before flashing down.Hisface comes nearer, soIready myself for another hug.
Butthen his face is in mine—his lips areonmine.
Adrianis kissing me.
Ipush against his chest with both hands, gaping up at him. “Whatare you doing?”
Hedoesn’t say a word.Hiseyes are wide and red and begin to fill up with tears all over again.
“No,Dree,”Isay softly, quickly holding him. “Pleasedon’t.”
Adoor swings open andZaksteps out of the church.Heswipes his hands across his eyes as he marches toward us, clearing his throat. “Dree, c’mon,” he says in a voice thick with tears. “Wegotta close the caskets.”
Adrianshakes like lightning struck him, and he pulls me closer.Hisvoice pitches when he cries, “No!”
“I’mso sorry, baby,”Imurmur, stroking his hair.
Adriansobs on my shoulder, and he’s inconsolable.
Someoneelse sniffles;Zakstarts up again, too.
Myheart cracks in my chest, threatening to completely break in two.
Ireach out for him and drag him toward me andAdrian.Zak’sarms wrap around us, sandwiching me between them.
There, between theRamostwins—even though we’re all a wretched, sobbing mess together—the crack in my heart mends.
Chapter15
“Blackout”
–Lonewolf
DadandDavemight be best friends fromCatholicschool, butIhaven’t stepped foot inside a church since beforeImoved toAtlanta.Despitethis,Idip my fingers into the holy water font at the entrance and cross myself, genuflect at the pew, and kneel on the thinly-padded kneeler as ifIattended lastSunday.
Momcrosses herself beside me, folds her hands over the pew in front of us, and closes her eyes.Nextto her,Dadcrosses himself and focuses on the altar, taking in the simpleness of the white and green cloths on the altar, the wood paneling and the gigantic crucifix hanging behind it.
Iplace my own folded hands over the wooden back of the pew before us and breathe in deeply.Thefaint scent of incense lingers from the last solemnity, clinging to the pew cushions and altar cloths, but it’s quickly covered up with the smell of burning candles as an altar boy and girl begin lighting them up.
AnolderHispanicwoman emerges from the sacristy with a full head of gray hair and a silver tray in her hands.She’sbeen the sacristan here since before we moved toLosoya, attending almost every singleSundaywithout fail to prepare the altar forMassby setting outFatherTomas’schalice and paten and making sure his books are precisely where they should be.Sheglances up, scanning the pews before her gaze lands on me.
Ireturn her smile before she shuffles to the sacristy at the side of the altar.
Itmakes me happy to know some things haven’t changed at all.
Afew feet away, the wooden door of the confessional swings wide open, and a familiar, heavily-tattooed figure, dressed in a short-sleeved, navy-blue button-up and black jeans, steps out.
Iswallow hard whenZak’seyes meet mine.
Theair in my chest disappears as he heads straight toward us, boots thundering with each step.
Hegenuflects, bending his right knee until it touches the carpeted floor and crossing himself as he focuses on the altar, before sitting right next to me.
Iclose my eyes and bow my head until my chin touches the center of my chest, literally praying thatIcan get through this fuckingMasssitting next to him.
Thekneeler yields slightly under extra weight, and an elbow brushes against mine.WhenIopen my eyes,IfindZakcrossing himself again as he places his elbows on top of the pew.
