“Telling myself that story helped me get my first full night’s sleep back then.” I still remember waking up that morning, so rested that I wasn’t even thrown off by waking up in Team Young’s guest room. I just thought it was one of our many sleepovers. That was a win for everyone in the house, since I had spent the other nights screaming; poor Dahlia had to go stay over at her abuela’s house because she wasn’t getting any sleep. “I got to a point where I stopped telling those stories, even though no remains were ever found.”

Valentino stares at the construction site. “I’m sorry to say it, but I think your parents died in the towers. Maybe it’s because I’m not a storyteller like you, but I can’t imagine them living different lives and not coming back for you by now. I’ve only known you for twelve hours, and I couldn’t even abandon you in this dark, cold corner of the city that’s heavily patrolled. You’re too special, Orion.”

Dude is trying to blow up my heart. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want my parents to haunt you.”

“Can ghosts haunt other ghosts?”

All it takes is one second—one impossibly long second—to forget that he’s dying.

“I don’t know, but if you all hang out, tell them I love them.”

“I will. I’ll make it really clear that you’ve grown to be a great man . . . who sucks at history.”

“They know that shit already.”

“I’ll have to find something else to share, then.”

Okay, that shit comes off flirty, but whatever idea he’s got brimming, that’s not something I want him talking about with my mom and dad.

I pull out the camera from my coat’s pocket and snap a picture of Valentino.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“You’re the first guy I’ve brought to meet my parents.”

Valentino is blushing, definitely not sun-kissed cheeks. “Hopefully I’m not the last, Orion.”

Why does moving on feel so heartbreaking?

He’s not my boyfriend, and we’re not in love.

He’s going to die today, and I’m going to live.

All this answers my question.

We’re not going to get the chance to become boyfriends who fall in love.

His journey ends here, and I’ll keep going until I can’t.

Living doesn’t feel so heartwarming in this moment.

Valentino takes the camera from my hands. “Let’s get a photo of you visiting your parents.”

I don’t fight him. This is a memory I’ll be able to share with Dalma and the Youngs.