Page 126 of Becoming Us

My back hit the wall, and I slid down, collapsing as the tears broke loose. They streamed down my face, unchecked, while my heart pounded in my ears. The pain in my chest grew and grew, until it felt like a hole had opened up inside me—vast, hollow, and devouring everything in its path.

Te amo, hijo.

My finger traced his, clutching his limp, unresponsive hand. Begging him not to die.

The bathroom door flew open.

“Noah?” Holly’s voice rang out as she stepped inside, eyes scanning until they landed on me.

“Hols.” My voice was unrecognizable.

Her face crumpled as a sob escaped me.

“My dad died,” I told her.

She dropped to her knees without hesitation and wrapped her arms around me—tight. Incredibly tight.

I clung to her like a lifeline as sobs tore out of me, ragged and raw. “My dad died, Hols.”

This was too much. It hurt too much. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t fucking do it. I buried my face in her shoulder and tried to push it in, bit by bit—hiding it away. If I didn’t, it was going to swallow me whole.

Just like it did, every time I saw him get weaker. Every time his name flashed on my phone. Every time I ignored what he said—how he said it. Like he’d been saying goodbye all along.

Push it in, Noah. It’s not real. It’s not happening. Push it in. Come on, push it in.In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In.In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In.

Holly held me on the bathroom floor while I rocked in her arms, the sobs softening, easing just enough to breathe again.

I stared blankly at the wall behind her.

“I can’t do it,” I whispered.

Her grip only tightened as I repeated it, again and again.

I can’t do it.

I can’t.

I—

I stared at the ceiling of my room, blinking slowly up at it. I knew I should be crying, or screaming, or something. But I just felt…flat. Like someone had drained all the color out of me. All the music. Every song we’d shared. Every lyric that had lived rent-free in my head. Gone, leaving me empty, nothing but silence in their place.

Holly had gotten me out of the funeral home, and I’d been drinking since we got here. For a while, it was quiet. Just the two of us, sitting in the silence.

Then the people started arriving.

My mom was hosting a wake at the house. There were probably waiters floating around with drinks and canapés, while people in black murmured about the stock market and my father’s legacy. Like this was just another networking event.

She’d tried to come in, but Holly hadn’t let her.

I could hear them on the other side of the door, voices muffled but sharp.

“If he’s been drinking, I’ll send someone with coffee,” my mother said.

“He can’t go out there. He’s a mess. He needs to be alone right now, not paraded around like an attraction so people can talk about how sad all this is on ‘Federico’s poor son,’” Holly hissed.

“He left the funeral, Holly. He can’t be this disrespectful to his father?—”

“Yes, he fucking can,” Holly snapped. “This has been destroying him for months—” Her voice cracked. “Months—and all you’ve done is ignore him while he carried an enormous responsibility that wasn’t even his to begin with. Instead of being there for him—for your son—and giving him a hug. What the fuck is the matter with you?”