“That’s your favorite memory?” Luca asks, sobering. “Really?”
I shrug. “I mean, it’s up there.” I turn sideways on the couch, bracing my elbow against the back and propping my head up. “Hell, Luc, we were inseparable. I don’t think I have any childhood memories that aren’t filled with you. It’d be impossible to pick a favorite.”
Luca lets out a soft sigh. “I really missed you.”
“I really missed you too. I’m gonna go clean up the kitchen, I think.”
I stand, but Luca shakes his head, so I sit back down. “No, I should. I made the mess.”
“Nah.” I pat his knee. “Youshould be resting. You shouldn’t have been making breakfast at all.”
His eyes dart away. “It’s what I do, though. I don’t know how to be anyone else but… this.” He waves a hand over his body. “I make breakfast and get groceries and make dinner and pick up dry cleaning and clean the house and try like hell to make sure it’s enough to keep Damien happy. That’s who I am.”
I stare at his profile for a second, trying to gather my thoughts. “That’s not who you are.”
“I don’t expect you to get it,” Luca says, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “Damien always tells me I’m nothing without him. That I’m lucky to have someone like him to take care of me.”
There’s a beat of silence while I process that statement, anger rising in my chest. I scoff. “Fuck him.”
Luca flinches at my tone, so I soften my voice, but I don’t back down. “I was there when you were potty trained. I was there when you won first place in the state fair with your creative writing piece in sixth grade. I was there when you failed your driving test three times. I was there for your first kiss. Matter of fact, Iwasyour first kiss. I was there when you broke your first bone falling out of the tree house we built at eight. I was there when you got stitches for the first time. If anyone gets to be the expert on who Luca fucking Pierce is, it’s me. Not that jackass.”
Luca’s eyes snap to mine. They’re full of tears, but they’re alsofull of hope. It’s small, but it’s there. Fuck Damien for all the things he made Luca believe about himself. “You haveneverbeen nothing.”
A tear drips from his eye. He doesn’t bother wiping it away. “Okay,” he whispers. “I hope you’re right.”
I’m definitely right, but I also know the only thing that will prove it to him is time and healing. “My parents will be happy you’re back in town.”
That gets a small smile out of him. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“Okay.” He finally reaches up to brush the tears off his face. “Can I wait until I’m not…” He points to his throat.
I figured he wouldn’t want anyone to see him like this anyway, so that’s not really a surprise. “Of course. I’ll wait to tell them you’re here until then.”
He nods, then falls silent, so I stand to get the kitchen cleaned up. I’m rounding the back of the couch when his voice stops me. “Austin?”
When I turn around, he’s facing me. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Chapter 9
Luca
Forthefirsttimein almost two weeks, I’m standing in front of the mirror, looking at myself. The dark, black and blue bruising around my throat has faded to a gross yellow and green. My bottom lip is healed; only the ghost of swelling and blood remain where the split was.
And most amazing of all, I woke up without a headache. Even on the better days, it’s still been painful—a low, throbbing ache behind my eyes and in my temples. But today? I woke up without pain.
I’m not sure what to do with that. Living with Damien was constant pain. If not in my body, in my mind. My ribs aren’t sore anymore, and even though the bruises are lingering on my throat, they don’t hurt now. Thankfully, Damien’s… assault didn’t cause any permanent damage to my body.
I don’t know if I know how to live in a body that doesn’t hurt.
I lift my t-shirt, studying my side in the mirror. There’s nothing there to see, but I touch my fingers to where the bruising used to be. It’s… unsettling. It feels like something is missing from my body. And how fucked up is that? Livingwithoutpain feels like something that shouldn’t be happening to me. It feels fake in a way. Like I’m going to wake up in my bed at Damien’s house, and all of this will have been a dream.
I drop my shirt, then step away from the mirror and into Austin’s bedroom.
I haven’t left the house since I’ve been back in town, but Austin is on hour eighteen of a twenty-four-hour shift. I’m bored out of my mind. I’m going stir-crazy, and I’m about to fucking lose it. I can only watch so much TV. I can only sit on the couch for so many hours. Especially since Austin banned me from cleaninganythingin the house. What kind of bullshit rules are those?
