Page 28

Theo

Later that night, I sit in the dark on the couch in my living room, staring out at the lights across San Francisco Bay. Each one reminds me of Justin—his laugh, his energy, the way he lit up every room. He should be here right now. But he’s not. And the silence he left behind feels huge, like a giant empty space. Tonight’s dinner at the Sullivans’ was hard.

I hear the soft creak of the stairs. I don’t need to look. I know it’s Mackenzie. She always moves like that—quiet, but sure. The sound of her sleepshirt brushing against her skin makes me jealous. She flips on a lamp, just enough light to chase away the shadows.

“Jesus, you scared me,” she says with a small laugh.

But even that warmth can’t melt the sadness in my heart.

She comes to sit beside me on the couch. “Can’t sleep?” she asks softly.

I shake my head and keep looking out at the lights, my mind still on Justin. He always said we’d leave our mark on the world, make it ours. He believed it so strongly that we all started to believe it too.

“Justin…” My voice catches. “He was something, wasn’t he? Always said we’d be big. And he made it happen.”

Mackenzie reaches for my hand, wrapping her fingers around mine. “He couldn’t have done it without you, Austin, and Rhys.”

I laugh, though it doesn’t feel happy. “We were just holding on, riding in his wake. It really sucks that he’s not here to reap the benefits of his hard work.”

She gives my hand another squeeze, and we sit together in silence. After a few minutes, the world feels quiet but not empty because, even though we lost Justin, we still have this. Each other. A little light in the dark.

Mackenzie wraps her arms around me, and everything else fades away. The soft scent of her hair, the warmth of her hug. It’s the only thing holding me together right now.

“When Gina broke down this evening,” she whispers, her voice shaking, “it was terrible. I can’t imagine how this feels for her.”

I nod, my throat too tight to speak.

She doesn’t say more, and she doesn’t have to. We understand each other without words. I reach for her hand, and together, we walk up the stairs in silence. No talking, no planning. Levi is staying with his dad tonight.

This time she doesn’t resist as we enter my room, the soft light from the City glowing through the window. Mackenzie stands in front of me, and I gently pull her closer. She rests her head against my chest.

“Thank you for being here,” I whisper.

She breathes out, her hand finding mine. “Justin would want us to keep going, wouldn’t he? To live. To feel things. Even now.”

I nod, my voice thick. “Yeah. He’d want that.”

And so we stand for a while, leaning on each other. After a moment, she looks down between us. “You’re so hard,” she murmurs.

And she’s right. My hardness pushes against my zipper. I have a desperate need to feel something beyond the ache of loss.

Her fingers drift lower, and heat surges through my veins.

“Theo,” she whispers.

I undo my belt with a flick of my wrist, and my pants slide to the floor.

Tonight isn’t about forgetting. It isn’t about filling the void Justin left behind. It’s about living despite it, about holding on to something real.

Tonight, we choose life. We choose each other.

I pull back the edge of the duvet, and we slide beneath the cool sheets. The world outside fades away, leaving just the quiet hush of fabric against warm skin. Wrapped in soft cotton, we drift together—two souls finding comfort in the quiet connection only night can bring.

She traces patterns across my chest, each caress soothing the rawness within me. I kiss her, feeling her lips meld with mine, a silent language of need and comfort spoken between breaths. Our hands roam, exploring the contours of shared sorrow and fleeting joy.

“Is this what you want?” Mackenzie’s voice is a murmur above me. Her eyes search mine.

“Always.” I smile, my heart answering honestly, even as humor tries to soften the confession. “With you, I’ve always wanted this.”

She lowers herself onto me, the sensation stealing my breath. A momentary panic grips me. I’m not wearing a condom. But then she whispers reassurance about birth control, and I trust her, letting go of one more worry in a day that’s been full of them.

She begins to move, setting a pace. My hands find her breasts, soft and full under my palms, and I shut my eyes, surrendering to the sensation, to the intimacy, to the memory of Justin, who would’ve smirked and told me to live like there’s no tomorrow.

Because sometimes, there isn’t.

Mackenzie’s hips move in a slow, undulating rhythm, each motion stirring the air between us until it feels charged. The world outside of this room, with its grief and relentless press, fades away into the background, leaving nothing but the connection between us.

“Right there,” she breathes, her voice hitching as she finds that perfect angle, that spot deep within her that sends ripples of pleasure through every nerve ending. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as the pressure builds, a delicious tension that promises release.

I draw her down until our bodies are flush against one another and gaze into her eyes. As she crests, the wave of her climax washing over us both, I feel her body clench around me, and I’m caught in the undertow right behind her.

“I never want to let you go,” I whisper, pulling her close, surrounding her with my arms as though I could shield her from everything that’s hurt us.

For a fleeting moment, I sense her belief in my words, as if they weave a small haven amid the sorrow and confusion that surrounds us and the struggle that lies ahead.