Chapter Forty Nine
The church doors thudded shut behind them. Ryan stumbled down the stone steps like he was drunk on grief — loose-limbed, glassy-eyed, unmoored. Evan was right there. Always right there. He caught Ryan’s elbow, guided him wordlessly toward the cracked sidewalk, away from the swarm of black-clad mourners buzzing like flies. They found a grim little bench near the edge of the parking lot, half-sunken in dead leaves. Ryan dropped onto it, legs spread wide, shoulders sagging like a marionette cut loose. Evan sat beside him, their knees brushing. For a long, terrible moment, neither said a thing. The wind rattled the bare branches overhead like bones. Ryan sucked in a broken breath — like the air hurt going in — and leaned forward, cradling his face in his hands. Evan hesitated — then
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