“He’s fine. He’s asleep. He had tea and juice and soup and medicine. Don’t worry, okay? I’ve taken care of everything.”

He looked more than a little loopy from the flu meds. “Work?”

“Handled. Eat some soup or Nurse Nadia will get cranky.”

With a bleary smile, he let me prop him against his pillows. Exhaustion was likely making this bug hit Ty harder than Sam. Kids were usually resilient, and neither of their fevers seemed high enough to warrant a doctor visit. With my help, he downed most of his soup and half of his tea, then he stumbled to the bathroom.

“What day is it?” He seemed to be fumbling to remember my schedule.

“A sick day,” I said firmly. “Back to bed.”

By evening, they were both feeling a lot better. Sam and Ty were curled up watching TV when I brought the last round of soup, tea and medicine. Sam glanced up at me with a sleepy smile, then he said to his dad, “I knew she’d fix us.”

Ty froze. Before, he was relaxed, groggy, obviously feeling like shit, but enjoying the rare chance to watch cartoons with his son. But I saw it dawn on him that I shouldn’t be here—that we had separate lives—and this wasn’t one of our weekends. My presence didn’t speak to friendship or sex, but something else entirely. I knew what it said; that I loved them enough to put my life on hold, if they needed me.

And it was true.

“Why are you even here?” It was the first time he’d thought to ask.

“I went upstairs to get her,” Sam answered.

Shit. That won’t help, buddy. Instinctively, I understood that Ty wouldn’t like learning how much Sam trusted me. It wasn’t like I was using the little guy to get closer to his dad. Hell, I’d never do that. But Ty wore a sharp, terrified look, like all of him was recoiling.

“You should’ve called Grandma,” Ty said gently.

“That’s stupid. Nadia is right upstairs, and she loves us.”

Ty’s throat worked. His eyes met mine, darkness swirling. “But Grandma’s feelings might be hurt. You know she enjoys taking care of you.”

“Oh.” Sam was crestfallen, mouth trembling. “I didn’t think of that. I was scared cuz you didn’t get up.”

Seeing that Sam was about to cry, Ty hugged him around the shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. You did a good job.”

Maybe if I leave now, it’ll be okay.

“I have to get going,” I said.

Ty didn’t get up, didn’t let go of Sam, and his voice was too quiet. “Okay. Thanks. We’ll be fine from here.”

Without you, his look added.

All that night, I waited for a text but it didn’t come. The next day, I went to work with a knot in my stomach that only swelled with Ty’s silence. Sam was back in school, completely recovered. Mrs. Keller didn’t seem to realize I’d lied and that made me feel worse.

She even patted me on the arm. “So glad you’re feeling better. A number of kids were out yesterday, too. I think something’s going around.”

Her assistant made a sour face. “This time of year, there always is.”

In my classes, I was a zombie, staring at the professors droning on. After failing twice to take notes, I gave up and recorded the lectures. Once I squared things with Ty, I’d feel better. Right? The ache in my chest didn’t abate as I drove home. If anything, the feeling intensified as I parked outside our building. He’s probably not even home yet. I didn’t see his car, so I went upstairs and tried to read some assigned chapters, but the words danced before my eyes. My stomach churned until it hurt. Around six, my phone finally pinged. With trepidation, I flicked open the message.

Come down. You can let yourself in.

Completely without context, the grave tone sent me running down the stairs. When I stepped into the apartment, Ty had his back to me, hands braced on the counter, head bowed. My first thought was—

“Sam, is Sam okay?” He was fine when I left Rainbow Academy this morning.

“Yeah. I dropped him off with my mom.” When he turned, he wore such a somber expression that it scared me.

“Don’t you have night class?” My knees felt weak as I collapsed on the sofa.

“You skipped everything for me yesterday. So I’m returning the favor.” But from his tone, this wasn’t sweet or good. He was so pale that he was shaking. Not from sickness, at least not like yesterday. This was something else, pain chewing at him from the inside. Ty took a deep breath. “I am completely, hopelessly in love with you.”

The smile formed instinctively; I didn’t think I’d ever hear those words from him. Happiness sparked briefly, guttered like a candle in the wind. From the bleak look in his eyes, this wasn’t a joyous moment. There wouldn’t be a kiss to celebrate the occasion.

“Ty—”

“I was fooling myself that we were just friends, no strings. It’ll never be that way with us. And that’s why this has to stop.”

The emotional blow knocked the breath out of me. “But—”

He shook his head and backed around the table, keeping it between us when I stood up. “Let me finish, or I’ll never get this said.”

“Okay. Sorry.” I hovered before the couch, torn between the desire to run and to demand he listen to me, instead. Silence won out.

“I can’t go on like this. One weekend just isn’t enough. The past two months, I’ve started resenting Sam. I can’t—I can’t have that, Nadia. God, I’m jealous of your fucking roommates because they’re there when you wake up and when you go to bed at night. But that’s not even the worst part. Yesterday you proved that you’d throw away your future for me. You ditched work, the practicum, without a second thought. That was never part of the deal.”

“I didn’t ruin anything. I still have my job, and I’m sure I can smooth things over—”

“This can’t continue,” he said flatly.

“We can figure something out.” My tone was soft, thick with threatening tears. Losing Ty and Sam would break my world open like a tremor on a fault line.

“No, sweetness. We can’t.”

If he was angry, I could stand it. But he was just so tired and sad that my tears spilled over. I clenched my fists, wanting to argue, but I’d promised when we first started this that if and when it stopped working, it would end. But the ground was opening up beneath my feet, and when he stopped talking, it would swallow me up.

“You’re sure?”

He nodded, an ocean of longing and anguish in his brown eyes. “I’ve been thinking, and our upstairs/downstairs thing? It’s a metaphor. How many times have I hung out at your place, Nadia?” When I made a zero with thumb and forefinger, he said, “Exactly. You can come into my world, but I can’t live in yours. So it’s always you, coming to me. Me, holding you back.”

“You’re not,” I whispered. “I’m happy.”

The pieces fit. I love you so much, Ty.

Tears could strangle you and steal your voice. I hadn’t known that until this moment. My heart was made of broken glass, slicing upward until my throat was cut. I couldn’t speak.

“I don’t see how that’s true. You do all the giving, make all the compromises, and everything’s on my schedule, because it has to be, or there’s nothing at all. But that’s not fair.” Sucking in a deep breath, Ty went on shakily, “We...we’re just not in the same place, and I won’t let you regret me.”

“You’re only three years older,” I said, incredulous. “We’re both in school—”

“And those years were life-changing. I have Sam. You need to meet other guys, and you’ll never do that with me on the scene. At this point, if I saw you with someone else, I’d probably kill him, even though I can’t call you mine.”

I am yours. I always have been. Pain was an ice pick, chipping at my insides, until there was only blood and shards of bone. Before, I thought people who threw around the word heartbroken were full of shit. But I couldn’t breathe for the vise tightening around my rib cage. It was like drowning, losing all the light beneath night-drenched waves.

“This isn’t right, Nadia. I have to let you go.”

“I don’t want you to,” was all I could manage.

“That face.” He finally came around the table, closing the distance between us, and I knew, I just knew he was going to frame my face in his hands, as he always had. “How can I live without this face?”

You’re killing me. Don’t turn the knife.

“So don’t.” It wasn’t quite begging. Any minute, I would quake apart at his feet and he could sweep up the dust. Maybe he could keep me in a jar on the shelf.

Ty shook his head, all certainty and sorrow. “We met too soon. This can’t work now, much as I wish it could. You deserve a guy who can be there for you all the time, someone without so much baggage.”

“Sam is not baggage,” I snapped.

“He’s also not your son.” Such a gentle tone for such awful words.

“And you’re not my boyfriend. I get it.” I bowed my head for a few seconds, fighting the tears. Then I broke away from his hold. “Does it matter at all that I love you?”

“Love isn’t a panacea,” Ty said wearily. “Or a magic pill. Diana loved me, too. But she didn’t stay, and I won’t put Sam through it again.”

“I’m not her,” I answered. “You won’t even give me a chance!”

“Can you honestly say you’re ready to move in and be with me, be Sam’s mom and live happily ever after? You’ve spent enough time with him to know exactly what that means.”

I’m twenty-one years old. I can’t, I’m not. That was my first, instinctive thought. And Ty read it in my face, in the slump of my shoulders. A light in him guttered and died.

I stopped fighting then because he was right after all, damn him. I would probably never forgive him for it. “So this is it. How does it end?”