“I thought so too, Jamal,” she says, folding her arms. “Guess we’re both learning a lot tonight.”

“That, Autumn.” I point to the area of sand we’d vacated. “That wasn’t about you.”

“How was that not about me?”

“How was it?”

“See, this is the part you don’t get. The lesson you won’t let yourself learn.” She shakes her head. “When someone loves you, Jamal, they love all of you. I love all of you. Your pain is my pain. Your anger is my anger. So, when you’re in the thick of it, I’m in the thick of it. But you? It’s like the more people wanna love you, the harder you wanna push them away.”

“That’s not true.”

“No?”

“Not at all.”

“Jamal, how long have we been together?”

I squint in confusion. “What’s that got to do with . . .”

But she’s not finished. “Do you love me, Jamal?”

“Wait, what?”

“Do. You. Love. Me.”

“You know what? I’m not playing this game with you.”

“Who’s playing, Jamal? Huh? You or me?”

“Man, this full moon got everybody out their mind tonight.”

“Or finally in their right mind. Tell me you love me. Say the words.”

“Yo, you buggin’. Like for real.”

“It’s easy, right? Four words. You love to talk, right? So, talk. I love you, Autumn.”

“Why are you trying to embarrass me right now?”

“Oh, I’m embarrassing you, Jamal? I’m embarrassing you? My friends are standing here not listening to you tell me you love me. I think I’m the one embarrassed.”

“Like, you saw what just happened. You know my head’s all over the place and now you wanna have a full-on state of the union.”

And I know I’m dumb as hell.

And I do love her.

Other than my sister, I love Autumn more than anyone on this planet.

Which is exactly why I can’t tell her.

Because the Universe is a trained assassin.

And as soon as it’s out there, the second you verify your weaknesses, expose your soft spots, the Universe starts counting down, and then it’s only a matter of time before it stalks and destroys everything and everyone you love.

I know, because I’ve already seen it happen.

The only thing worse than loving someone so much?

Telling them.

“We’ve been together for two years and you’ve never, not once, told me you loved me. Two years. And I never, not once, complained. I never pushed. I never even nudged you, Jamal. I knew you were afraid. I understood why. And I knew, eventually, you’d get there. But . . . it’s like Q said, eventually you sound stupid even to yourself.”

I feel it in my throat. The burn. The next words I speak, my voice will crack in two. “Autumn. Baby. Please, just . . .”