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“There has to be something I can do, Dante.” I lean against his shoulder.

He looks down at me. “Even if there was, my father would never let you. You’re not part of this.”

“I’m part ofyou, though,” I remind him, my brow furrowing. “I care about you. We’ve spent the last two weeks together almost every single day. I know how your mother died; I know all of your favorite things. I know that you can’t stand any kind of skating, and you know…well, you know that my first kiss was with my step-cousin Mary.” I say the last part in a mumble while rubbing my neck. “I think that makes me part of this.”

Dante sighs and pulls away from me.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re not bound to us, to me, by the ritual and by blood,” he tells me. “To them you’re nothing until you pledge your loyalty.” Dante’s gaze shifts away from me.

My heart sinks into my stomach. I’ve been doing my best not to think about the ritual over the last few weeks, to focus on studying, getting to know him, and processing the fact that I’m gay and my boyfriend is in the mafia.

Now it’s right in front of me.

“To them?” I ask. “Or to you?”

Dante doesn’t answer me. My stomach suddenly aches.

“I’m your boyfriend. Does that mean nothing?”

Dante scoffs. “I dunno. What does it mean to you? We don’t go out together, and the only person who knows about us outside of my family is Nathan. You don’t want anyone else to know. So what does it mean?”

I blink at him. My throat tightens. “I’m still figuring it out, Dante. You’ve known for years that you were gay and came out a long time ago. Do you really expect me to have it all figured out and be ready in a month?”

Dante shakes his head. “No, I don’t. But the reality is that if you wanna be part of my world, if you wanna do something about all of this, you can’t until you’re bound by blood. Until my family sees that you’re serious.”

“Untilyousee that I’m serious,” I whisper in response. “Shouldn’t committing myself to you be enough?”

“In my family, the ritualiscommitment,” he explains, his voice getting rougher.

My hands curl into fists and I slide off the bed. “Don’t pressure me.”

“I’m not fucking pressuring you,” he insists as he finally looks at me, meeting my gaze. “I’m telling you how it is. You don’t wanna do the ritual, fine, but then you’re not part of this.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be part of it!” I blurt out.

Dante stands up, his body even more tense than my own. Shock gleams in his eyes, but it seems like he’s trying to keep his face as calm as possible.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be,” he replies.

I shake my head, surprised at myself for saying that. “No, Dante. I-I just need time. Exams are right around the corner; I’ve got a lot on my plate. Your world, your family, is new to me. It’s scary.”

“You’re right, it is a lot. Maybe you should take some time,” Dante agrees.

I sigh in relief.

“Without me.”

I gasp, suddenly flooded with anxiety. “What?”

“You want space. Isn’t that what you’re asking for?” he asks. “Space to process?”

“I need time to process, but I don’t want you to go anywhere. Why would you say that?”

The tension in the room is so thick that it hurts to breathe.

Dante doesn’t answer, just takes a breath and shakes his head.