Page 80 of Espíritu

Julian’s chest constricted, his heart squeezing tight, then shuddering back into its regular rhythm, guided by the warmth enveloping him, by Yadriel’s embrace that refused to let him fall apart.

“When I woke up, everything was too bright, too real. The beep of the machines was like … like a countdown or something. And there was my dad, slumped in the chair next to me, head down on his arms.”

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat stubborn and aching. In the dim glow of Yadriel’s family’s living room, shadows cast long fingers across the floor, reaching for him.

His throat worked around the memory. “I thought it was him. My dad. Because I wanted—it had to be him, you know?”

Yadriel’s hand stilled on his back, a silent encouragement to go on. Julian took a shaky breath, feeling the ghost of that hope shatter all over again.

Julian paused. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a breath. “But it wasn’t him. It was Rio.”

Tears brimmed at the edges of his vision, spilling over despite his best efforts. The pain was old, but it never dulled, always lurking beneath the surface ready to claw its way out of his chest.

“Hey, hey, Jules.” Yadriel’s voice was soft, a soothing balm over the raw edges of Julian’s grief. Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him close until he was enveloped in warmth and the faint scent of Yadriel’s cologne mixed with copal.

Julian clung to Yadriel, his fingers digging into the fabric of Yadriel’s hoodie, grounding himself in his solid presence. The weight of memory pressed down like a storm cloud, but he didn’t have to weather it alone. Not this time.

The room settled into a hush. Lita’s gentle snores, the flicker of candles, and Yadriel’s quiet heartbeat became the only sounds.

Sometimes, you just need to be held by your boyfriend.

THIRTEENJULIAN

The morning air clung to Julian’s skin, damp and crisp, as he leaned against the wall outside the cemetery gates. The heavy iron arch stretched above him, the words EL JARDÍN ETERNO stark against the morning sun.

The Stingray’s low growl rounded the corner.

Julian turned and waved half-heartedly to Yadriel, who stood a few steps behind him, hoodie zipped all the way up. Maritza called to him from down the street, and Yadriel gave Julian a quick kiss.

“I’ll see you at school,” Yadriel said before cutting a look to the Stingray and adding, “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Julian grumbled, already missing Yadriel as he walked away. “I’ll need it.”

The Stingray rolled to a stop, its black frame gleaming in the thin winter light. Julian climbed in, the passenger door creaking like it hated him personally. The seat was cold. The silence, colder.

Rio didn’t say anything. Hands gripping the wheel tight, jaw flexing as if he were chewing on broken glass.

Julian turned his gaze out the window, leaning his forehead against the cool glass as he watched the cemetery gates fade into the distance.

“Good morning to you, too,” Julian muttered, his voice cutting through the heavy quiet.

Rio’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Where were you last night?”

The question came out low, controlled, but Julian could feel the anger simmering beneath it.

Julian kept his tone light, as if that would help. “I told you—I was at Yadriel’s.”

“You didn’t tell me anything,” Rio snapped, eyes flicking toward him. “You just disappeared.”

Julian sank deeper into his hoodie. “I needed to talk to someone.”

Rio exhaled. “You’re my sixteen-year-old headache, Jules.”

“Love you, too,” Julian replied.

A pause.

“What did you need to talk to someone about?”