The arguments swirled in an endless whirlpool, getting no closer to any plausible solution. The choppy waters stirred up memories of times when I’d snuck onto that same patio to meet with Nico when he wanted to tell me about his first time driving or how his first day of high school had gone. My dad didn’t allow boys over at the house—I wasn’t allowed to date until I was sixteen—and no matter how much I argued that Nico was just a friend, my parents wouldn’t budge. He didn’t have a cell phone, so we couldn’t text. Sometimes, we settled for talking at school or phone conversations, but every now and then, he showed up at my house unannounced and threw pebbles at my bedroom window until I met him outside.

For ten years, from the time I was five until fifteen, Nico was my life. He was good, and pure, and honest. He was my escape from everything I hated about the world. At fifteen, I’d lived more of my life with him than without, and I couldn’t fathom ever losing him.

The last year of our friendship, our relationship had started to evolve into something … more—something even more beautiful than it had been before, which I hadn’t thought was possible. My freshman year, his sophomore year, we were both in the high school wing of our K-12 private school. It started with sweet notes left in my locker, then progressed to holding my hand in the halls, and on to a first kiss—a stolen moment in the supply closet of the art room.

I always loved Nico, but my freshman year, I fell in love with him.

Not just teenage puppy love. Nico became my favorite part of every day and the thing I pictured in my head each night as I drifted to sleep. He planted himself deep inside the fibers of my being, his roots interwoven with mine like two redwood trees, separate at first sight but one creature when you dug down deep.

When he left me, he’d violently ripped us apart, and my wounds had never healed. I had convinced myself they had—placed bandages over the gaping wounds—but underneath, I was just as raw and damaged as I’d been seven years before.

And now he was back to throw salt in those wounds. Why now? I had no doubt there was a reason behind his sudden appearance. Was I willing to be near him to figure it out, or was self-preservation more important? I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but either way, I was in trouble.

“Can I ask you a question?” Nico asked one day as he sat on the swing next to me.

“Yeah, I guess.” I squinted over at him in the bright sunlight. Nico and I had become friends over the prior weeks, and I liked talking to him.

“One of the kids in my class said your brother died. Is that why you’ve been so sad?”