Page 88 of Burn the Script

My blood boils, heating to an unbearable degree. I storm away but don’t get far before turning back with an accusing, shaky finger aimed at him. “So your one rule for me—never to leave you in the dark—you were breaking all along. I’ve been killing myself, surviving on scraps of sleep, to right any wrongs I could’ve done to you. And this whole time, you’ve had no intention of giving us another chance.”

“I didn’t ask you to go back and forth.”

“You didn’t try stopping me either!”

“I know,” he says, hugging himself again. “Maybe we’re both selfish. I can’t give you up, but I’m not ready for a life in the headlines.”

“Why not? You still haven’t explained why you’re afraid.”

Miguel swipes at his wet cheek. “I care too much about what people will say. We’ll get torn apart online. It’s happened before, when I was only a background figure in photos with you and Tate. People judged me without knowing how we’re connected. Imagine what they’ll say when they learn who I am to you.”

The surprises keep coming, one after another. I had expected us to end the night with our introduction to the world. After hearing his big reveals and, more importantly, his fears, I’m floored. If he would’ve confided in me from the start, I could’ve helped him.

Raking a hand through my hair, I pace, my mind already spinning ideas for damage control. “We can manage the blowback on our end. I’ll hire a team to monitor comments. You won’t ever see them.”

“Graham.” He expels my name on a heavy sigh. “You could have god-mode access to the entire internet, and it wouldn’t make a difference. You. Can’t. Fix. This.” On the last word, he taps his temple. “And you can’t stop what’s coming for us. It’ll be brutal, especially for me.”

I lace my fingers on top of my head and stare at the merman statue in the center of the fountain. The only reason water trickles from its mouth is because Miguel had the fountain cleaned up and repaired, brought back to life. I’ve become complacent with it over the years, but looking at it now, I see the cracks in the stone facade. They’ve been there all along.

My arms fall to my sides. “If I can’t help you or change my situation, what can I do?”

He sits on the fountain ledge, hands tucked between his knees. “Give me a minute to figure this out, with no pressure from you.”

Stop pressuring me!

My scoff echoes. “Sorry my love is so overwhelming you can’t be around me while you think.”

“I deserve your anger.”

“I’m not angry!” His flinch says otherwise, and I groan. “Well, maybe I am. But mostly, I’m hurting.”

Dropping down next to him, I leave no gap between us, needing him close when I ask a crucial question. Regardless of how many convincing text messages he sent to Maisy, I need to hear the truth for myself.

“Are you still in love with me, Miguel?”

He cups my cheek and turns my head toward him, brushing our lips together. “Madly, irrevocably, infinitely. I’ll never forgive myself for making you doubt it. You’re my end goal, Graham. The second I find a way to ignore the haters, I’m busting through this fucking gate.”

The gate looms before us. For years, it protected our privacy and offered us sanctuary. Now, the iron bars represent another obstacle standing between today and our future. I don’t care what online trolls say about me, but it’s devastating to think anyone on the other side of that gate wouldn’t love Miguel as much as I do.

I’m powerless against their judgment…and miserable without him.

My sniffle gets buried in my sleeve as I wipe the tears away. “I want you to come home.”

“So do I, baby. More than anything.” When his soft lips graze my jaw, I close my eyes, dreading the goodbye to follow. “I promise I’m working on it. I just need a little more time.”

The question of how long he needs nudges my mind, but I shut it down and nod. As he stands, I rise with him, grasping his lapels. Our lips collide on a battlefield of shared anguish as he lets out a heart-wrenching sob.

He flings his arms around my neck and deepens the kiss. A history of happy memories fights to survive through our tongues, tainted with tears, anger, frustration, and the bitter taste of resentment. Fuck anyone responsible for keeping my darling from me, and that includes myself.

38

MIGUEL

NOW

Monday, February 27th

After a full day of wallowing in isolation, with no human interaction whatsoever, I’ve forced myself to leave my apartment and reenter society. It’s a decision I regret while standing in the doorway of the conference room at work.