Chapter 18 Emilio
EIGHTEEN
EMILIO
I hold Raelynn in my arms for what feels like hours, rocking her gently.
Every sob rakes through her and hits me like a body shot.
I’ve given death notices more times than I care to count—knocked on doors in the dead of night, watched faces crumble, families fracture, listened to them deny what I was telling them, refusing to accept that their loved one is gone.
Those nights leave fingerprints on you. But none of them has ever come close to tonight.
Delivering this to Raelynn felt like I ripped my chest open with my bare hands, tore my heart out, and stomped on it.
She’s endured more than anyone should have to. Losing her mother, her father, and now Khloe… it’s too much for one person. I know what it’s like to lose pieces of yourself. I’ve buried people, carried caskets. I’ve dealt with my fair share of grief but not like this. Not this deep.
This is the kind of loss that carves straight to bone, and leaves scars that never stop bleeding.
Max doesn’t leave her side—not once. He’s a steady presence through it all, pressed against Raelynn like he knows she’s breaking and can’t stand to let her do it alone.
His head rests on her lap, eyes lifted toward her face, quiet and patient.
Every few seconds, his tail moves—a slow sweep against the floor, the only sound in the heavy stillness.
When her sobs start to quiet, when the shudders in her chest finally begin to ease, it’s his warmth that grounds her.
She knots one shaking hand in my shirt and the other disappears into his fur like she’s afraid that if she lets go of either of us, she’ll disappear with everything else the world’s taken from her.
At some point, Tessa pulls herself up from the floor.
Her face is pale, streaked with tears that haven’t stopped since I told them.
She doesn’t speak—just slips quietly down the hall, her footsteps dragging, the door to her room clicking shut behind her.
The silence that follows feels heavier. Like the apartment itself is holding its breath.
Still cradling Raelynn, I brush her hair back from her face with one hand, my thumb tracing the wet trails down her cheek.
Her lashes stick together, clumped with tears.
She’s beautiful, even like this—especially like this.
Vulnerable in a way that makes my chest ache.
I lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment.
“Come on,” I murmur, more to myself than to her. My voice barely works.
I shift under her, and she moves with me automatically, still hanging on.
I stand, gathering her up as if she weighs nothing.
She tucks herself against me, feet dangling, arms tight around my neck.
Her hand knots in the collar of my shirt, refusing to let go.
Max follows, his nails clicking softly against the floor as we move down the hall, never straying more than a few inches from her side.
Her room is dark except for the soft glow spilling from the hallway.
Shadows stretch across the walls. Max jumps onto the bed as soon as I open the door.
He circles once before curling up at the foot, his eyes locked on her, unblinking and protective.
The soft thump of his tail against the sheets is the only sound that dares to exist.
I pull the comforter back and lower Raelynn gently onto the mattress.
She looks so small like this—fragile in a way I’ve never seen her.
The fire that usually burns in her eyes is gone, replaced by something hollow and raw.
Her skin is pale, streaked with tear tracks that glisten under the dim light.
Her hand slips from my shirt, the last bit of strength fading from her fingers as she whispers, barely audible, “Don’t go.”
Those two words nearly undo me. I sink down beside her, one knee on the edge of the bed.
My hand finds her arm, thumb tracing slow, steady circles over her skin.
“I wasn’t planning on it, baby,” I whisper.
The word slips out before I can stop it, soft and natural.
She doesn’t flinch at it. Her eyes flutter, half lidded and tired.
I kick off my shoes and slide onto the bed beside her.
The second I do, she finds me again, curling into my chest, her face buried against me like she’s searching for something that feels safe.
I pull the comforter over us both, wrapping my arms around her, and hold her as tight as I can without crushing her.
She’s trembling again—not from sobbing this time, but from exhaustion.
Her hand rests over my heart, her fingers still tangled in the fabric of my shirt.
Her breathing comes unevenly, broken by quiet hiccups that taper off one by one.
I rest my chin on the crown of her head.
I can feel the rise and fall of her chest begin to steady, each breath syncing with mine.
My own pulse slows to match hers, the adrenaline giving way to something quieter, heavier.
I smooth a hand down her back, tracing the curve of her spine in slow, mindless passes.
The warmth of her skin seeps into my palm.
The weight of her against me feels like both a promise and a burden—one I’d carry without question.
Every few minutes, she exhales a shaky breath, and I murmur something low and quiet—nonsense words meant to keep her anchored.
I tighten my arms around her, pulling her closer until I can feel every shallow breath. “You’re safe,” I murmur into her hair. “I’ve got you.”
Her only response is a small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a sob. Max shifts at the foot of the bed, his head lifting for a moment before he settles again, as if he knows she’s finally still.
Her breathing slows, and I feel her body start to relax against mine, exhaustion dragging her under. I stay awake, listening to the tiny sounds that fill the room—the hum of the air vent, the faint rustle of the sheets each time she moves, the steady rhythm of her heart under my hand.
If I could take this from her, I would. Every ounce of pain, every scar life has carved into her, I’d bear it myself without hesitation.
I’d guard her from the world and everything waiting outside that door.
Take every nightmare, every ugly memory, every flash of pain, and lock it away where it can never touch her again.
Loss keeps finding her, clawing away at what’s left.
And I can’t stop thinking how unfair it is—how wrong it feels to watch someone like her, stubborn and bright and braver than she knows, be broken again and again.
But in this moment, I’ll give her everything I can—my warmth, my strength, whatever pieces of myself she needs to stay afloat because the world has taken too much from her already.
And I’ll be damned if I let it take anything more.