Page 55 of The Ruins

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“It’s a great idea.” That crease appears between his brows—the one I used to kiss like I could smooth out every worry he had. “Unless you need to get back to your son? Can your babysitter stay an extra night?”

Every word hits hard.

“There’s no babysitter. Z has Bruiser this weekend.”

“Bruiser?” Caleb huffs a quiet laugh. “That’s a hell of a name.”

Despite everything, my mouth twitches. “He earned it. That kid came out swinging.”

And just like that—we fall into it.

Easy.

Familiar.

Dangerous.

I tell him about the kicking. The fists. The black eye Bruiser gave Z during a diaper change that solidified the nickname.

And Caleb—God—he looks at me like I hung the moon as I tell him about my son. Goddamn him for getting it. So many other guys would be put off hearing me go on and on about another man’s child.

“He sounds amazing,” he says softly.

“He is.”

“Of course he is.” His gaze lingers. “He’s yours.”

That feeling hits again. Thathomefeeling.

And it’s terrifying.

Because what happens if I reach for it?

I’ll destroy it.

Isn’t that what I do?

Look at me and Z. Right when I’m trying to get back together with him, I comehere. Because I ruin things.

…But you also found out important information. That Z lied to you way back then, and he’s never owned up to it.

He would’ve been too scared to lose me.

Is that any justification for it? It was his fear of losing you that made him lie in the first place.What else has that fear driven him to do?

We reach the side gate.

Caleb hesitates—just for a second—like he knows crossing this threshold means something.

Then he pushes it open.

And—

The backyard explodes into life.

String lights zigzag overhead, casting everything in a golden glow. Folks are bringing out steaming dish after steaming dish onto folding tables already covered in food. A cooler overflows with drinks. Music blasts from a speaker on the patio—something nostalgic, something that makes my chest ache because Iknowthis song.

People from the memorial are everywhere—laughing or talking in groups. Some are dancing barefoot in the grass.