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And then I see him.
My heart stops.
Lazaro.
He's bent over the open hood of a car, his back to us. But I'd know that silhouette anywhere.
As if in a trance, I take a step forward. Henry squeezes my hand, grounding me.
Lazaro straightens up, wiping his hands on a rag. He turns, and for the first time in years, I see my brother's face.
There's a jagged scar running from his left temple down to his jaw, evidence of whatever violence befell him. But beneath that mark, it's still Lazaro. Those same hazel eyes, the strong jawline.
I'm overwhelmed with emotion, my heart pounding in my chest. Without thinking, I drop Henry's hand and rush toward Lazaro, my voice cracking as I call out his name.
"Lazaro! Lazaro!"
He watches me, confusion etched across his face. As I get closer, he still appears baffled, and yet he opens his arms. I don't slow down as I reach him. I throw myself into his arms, and to my relief, he catches me, his strong arms wrapping around me instinctively.
I bury my face in his chest, breathing in his scent. Motor oil, sweat, and something uniquely Lazaro. Sobs rack my body as I cling to him, years of pent-up emotion pouring out of me.
“I’ve found you,” I choke out between sobs.
He doesn't speak, but he doesn't push me away, either. I can sense his confusion, his struggle to understand what's happening. But beneath that, there's a familiarity in the way he holds me, as if his body remembers even if his mind doesn't.
I pull back slightly, looking up into his face through my tears. He looks at me in confusion and something else. Recognition? Hope? I'm not sure, but I cling to it desperately.
"It's okay if you don't remember. I'm here now. I never stopped looking for you."
Lazaro's voice, hoarse and uncertain, breaks the silence. "Lana?"
My heart explodes with joy. He remembers me. After all this time, after everything he's been through, some part of him still knows who I am. Tears stream down my face as I nod frantically, unable to form words.
I hold my brother, feeling whole for the first time in years. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. My gaze drifts to Henry, standing a few feet away, watching us with a soft smile. He did this. He believed in me and in Lazaro. And he's now brought us together again.
Our eyes meet, and in that moment, I feel a surge of love so powerful it takes my breath away.
I love you, I mouth to him, wanting him to know how much this moment means to me and that I know he made it happen.
He mouths that he loves me too.
My world is right. Whole. Complete. And it’s all because of Henry’s love.
EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Lazaro
I’m often asked what it’s like to not know anything about my life before I awoke in a hospital bed three years ago. To be honest, I don’t know. It is what it is. If I really think about my situation, I have to wonder what it was about me that I could be in an accident and no one cared. No one noticed I was missing. No one came looking.
And then, a woman who I don’t know, yet seems familiar, has walked into my auto mechanic shop. No, not walk. She runs into my arms, calling the name “Lazaro”. What is that? Italian?
A name slips into my head. “Lana.” I don’t know if that’s Italian, but it’s pretty. It fits her. And although I have no reason to feel this, I know deep in my soul that I love this woman. Not like a girlfriend, though. More like a little sister.
I’m not a touchy feely man, so the way she clings to me is a little weird, but I don’t stop it. It feels like this moment is important for her.
“Where have you been?” she asks me.
“Here.” Where else would I be?
