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“She’s amazing,” I say softly, still turning over the impossible idea—maybe my brother isn’t gone.

“She really is,” Stacy murmurs as she steps around me, her voice soft like she’s speaking not just to me but to the night itself. “Believe me, I’ve known her a long time, but...” She pauses, and when I look at her, something in her gaze has shifted—softened. Her eyes carry something warm, something real. It feels like sunlight after too long in the dark. “There’s someone else I admire around here, maybe more.”

“Who?” I ask, feigning confusion.

“Need a hint? He’s always got oil on his jeans and thinks motorcycles are a personality trait.”

I laugh. It comes out as a low, rough sound, but it’s the first real laugh I’ve had in days.

“Thank you,” I say, unsure what else to offer. “Though I’m not sure what I did to deserve that.”

“Being strong,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. She searches my eyes like she’s seeing every frayed edge I’ve been trying to keep hidden. “You’ve being strong forbothof us. I’ve been a mess ever since I found out the truth about my mom. And you—you’ve been grieving Sammy and still holding me up at the same time.”

Her voice wavers and that hits me in the gut.

“It’s nothing,” I say, my throat so tight that my voice is hoarse.

“That’s heart,” she whispers, pressing her forehead to mine like it’s the only way to hold us both together.

I want to deflect, crack a joke, turn this into something light, because the weight of her sincerity is a lot. Almost too much on top of everything else, but I can’t do that to her. Not now when she’s finally letting me in.

“Well, I couldn’t turn my back on you, could I?” I say, my voice softer than I intend, but it’s honest and raw. The way the truth should be. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I ignored your situation?”

“A crappy one,” she says with a quiet chuckle, the sound brushing against the edge of something fragile inside of me. She leans closer, her breath warm on my skin. “But you’re not. Not even close. And I won’t forget this, Ray. I mean it. I’m here for you too. Just like you’ve been here for me. That’s a promise.”

Something in me breaks open at her words. Not in a bad way. More like... pressure releasing from a valve I hadn’t realized was at its limit.

I slide my arms around her waist, pulling her in as though that closeness can fuse us together. Maybe it can. Maybe, just for tonight, the ache of everything we’ve lost can be quieted by what we’ve found.

Her eyes shimmer when they meet mine—not from tears, but from the kind of intensity that makes time slow down. I don’t need to speak. I don’t need to think. I justfeel.

I brush my lips against hers. Light. Testing and she doesn’t hesitate. She melts into me with a sigh, her arms tightening asshe molds her body to mine. It’s like we were always meant to fit this way. The kiss deepens, soft and slow, something sweet blooming behind the heat.

She tastes like spring after a long, cruel winter—fresh, sweet, impossible not to chase.

I kiss her again. And again. Until something inside me gives—shattering in the best kind of way. Something deeper than grief—deeper than guilt Something ancient and hungry and starved for this kind of warmth.

Her body clings to me, her heartbeat syncing with mine like it was always meant to. The beating is music I never knew I needed. My hands find the curve of her back, sliding up slowly, reverently, as if I’m memorizing the map of her spine. She’s soft where I’m rough, steady where I’m breaking. She grounds me. Rebuilds me in the cradle of her arms.

Before Stacy, I didn’t know what it meant to hunger for someone in my soul, not just in skin. Toneedsomeone the way lungs need air.

But now I’m getting drunk on something rare and rich—the finest French wine, heady and dangerous. Her presence floods my senses, and I want to drown in it.

“I’m happy you’re here with me,” I whisper into her skin, my lips brushing her cheek.

“No way you’re happier than me,” she says with a smile, pressing her cheek into my collarbone. Her fingers thread gently into my shirt, like she’s holding on for dear life. Or maybe like she’s afraid this moment might slip away if she lets go.

Under the half-moon and the scattered stars, we stand—frozen in time, wrapped around each other as though the rest of the world doesn’t matter. As though the cracks in us only make the whole more beautiful.

Her scent fills my nose—sweet and earthy, tinged with that faint floral perfume she always wears. Her heat seeps into me, banishing the chill that’s clung to my bones since the moment I got that call about Sam.

Nothing else exists. Not the silence that stretches between stars. Nor the ache in my chest that throbs with every beat of my heart. Not even the knowledge that tomorrow, we’ll still be standing on shifting ground.

Right now, it’s just her. Just me. Justthis.

I’ve spent years waiting for a connection like this. For someone who sees past the grease-stained fingers, the emotional walls, the smart-ass comments. Someone who doesn’t flinch when I’m angry, who doesn’t turn away when I fall apart. Someone whochoosesto stay.

“I don’t want this moment to end,” I murmur into her hair.