Cemetery Boys(75)

Yadriel thought his heart was going to burst through his chest.

Rio’s eyes snapped to Yadriel, wide and alarmed. He pointed at the door. “Get out.”

Yadriel backed up. “I’m sorry—I—”

“NOW.”

He caught a short glimpse of Luca, shielded by Rio’s body. He was trembling, his eyes glued to the new hole Julian had left in the door. Yadriel ran out and down the stairs.





SIXTEEN


Yadriel raced down the stairs as fast as his feet could carry him, combat boots clomping all the way. Julian stormed off ahead, with no sign of slowing down. The chain-link gate rattled as he blew through.

“Come on.” He waved at Maritza. “We gotta go.”

Maritza met Yadriel at the bottom of the stairs. “What the heck happened?” she asked, her head snapping back and forth between him and Julian’s retreating back. Michelangelo whined anxiously. Meanwhile, Donatello merrily chewed on something that might’ve been a crumpled plastic bottle. “Sounds like it didn’t go well.”

“It didn’t,” Yadriel agreed as they rounded the building.

A few heads turned when Julian cut through the busy lot, a sharp gust of wind following him.

A woman gasped and punched the arm of the man standing next to her. “Did you see that?” she asked, pointing right where Julian had passed. Undoubtedly, she’d seen the shirt in his hands floating off on its own.

The man laughed. “Those Santa Ana winds are crazy,” he said, shaking his head.

Yadriel quickened his pace, filling in Maritza as they chased after Julian. His stomach twisted, sick with guilt as he remembered the looks on Luca’s and Rio’s faces. Yadriel wasn’t sure if Luca fully believed him about Julian’s being dead, let alone being a ghost. Either way, he’d definitely freaked Luca out.

He hadn’t meant to upset them, but he couldn’t help himself. The way Rio had been so dismissive and just so wrong about Julian, how was he supposed to just let him keep going? Especially when Julian was standing right there, listening to all of it and unable to defend himself. How could Rio think so little of Julian? Was that how he really felt? What he really thought? Or was he just acting out because he was hurt?

The Diaz brothers seemed to have trouble processing their emotions.

Julian stomped down the street.

“Julian!” Yadriel hissed, trying to keep up.

The shirt hung from Julian’s fist, whipping around wildly. Santa Ana winds were a flimsy cover, at best. If they weren’t careful, they were going to catch someone’s attention. That was the last thing they needed right now.

“Wait up!”

Julian turned, disappearing behind an old church.

Yadriel, Maritza, and the dogs ran to catch up. When they found him, Julian was pacing back and forth in front of the entrance to the church like a caged animal. Rusty grates of filigree and crosses sealed off the doors and windows. An angry, frigid wind kicked up dirt and debris around him. His expression was severe and frustrated, the muscles in his jaw tight and his nostrils flared.

Maritza hung back. Donatello whined and Michelangelo shook himself out nervously. She cut Yadriel a wary look.

Her words from earlier needled into Yadriel’s head.

He won’t be Julian anymore.

But this wasn’t Julian losing grip on himself and slipping toward turning maligno. Yadriel knew that.

“Julian—” Yadriel reached out for him, even though he knew he’d be nothing more than frost on his fingertips.

But Julian jerked away. “DON’T.”

So Yadriel didn’t.

Instead, he watched, cautiously. He didn’t try to move closer, but he didn’t retreat, either. Gently, he tried, “Hey, you—”

“I know, I know, I know!” Julian growled impatiently. “You’ll flush me down the toilet!”

Maritza gave Yadriel a startled look.

A blush swept up the back of his neck and across his face. “I’m not—”

“Just give me a second!” Julian dropped into a squat and pressed his shirt against his face. Framed under the arch of the gated doors, the fluorescent lights spilled yellow across the steps of the church, but it didn’t quite touch Julian. There was a saint painted on the cement wall above him. A faceless man in a black robe with a white rope tied around his waist. In his right hand, he held a skull. In the left, a crucifix. Colorful swirls of paint spiraled out around him.

Yadriel’s chest ached, but all he could do was stand back and give Julian space as he warred with himself.

Julian’s back rose as he gulped down air. Slowly, the wind settled.

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled it through pursed lips. When he stood up and faced Yadriel, his cheeks were splotchy, his edges watery. He dragged his fist across his eyes before finally letting his hands fall to his sides.

Yadriel wrapped his arms around himself. “Are you okay?”

Julian’s laugh was forced. “Jesus,” he sniffed, looking anywhere but at Yadriel. “Can we not talk about feelings right now?”

“I don’t think Rio meant all that,” Yadriel continued, joining Julian on the step. “He’s just hurt. I mean, you could see that, right?”

Staring at the ground, Julian didn’t look so sure. “I didn’t mean that shit I said to him,” he mumbled. His finger moved to his throat, searching for something that wasn’t there. He glanced over to where his necklace hung around Yadriel’s neck. “I just got so mad!” He shook his head, jaw clenched.