This was dangerous. This was exactly what I swore I wouldn't let happen. When I moved into that building, I had rules. Keep my distance. Watch over her from a safe distance. Make sure she was safe without ever letting her know I was paying attention.
Those rules were gone now. Shattered the moment she knocked on my door, the moment I carried her into my apartment, the moment I sat on the floor beside my bed and watched her sleep.
I thought about Mateo. Tried to imagine what he'd say if he could see me now. If he could see me counting down the hours until my shift ended so I could go home to his fiancée. If he could see me memorizing the way she laughed.
Take care of Lucy. Promise me.
Was this what he'd meant? Was this taking care of her?
Or was this something else entirely? Something that would make him hate me if he knew?
I didn't have an answer. Didn't know if there was one.
I just knew I couldn't stop.
I got home from shift at seven, the evening light turning the mountains gold and pink outside the windows. I could smell dinner before I even opened the door. Something with garlic and tomatoes, the kind of meal that made a house feel like a home.
Lucy was at the stove, her back to me, stirring something in a pot. She was humming.
That song again. The one I couldn't place, the melody that had been nagging at me all week.
And then, standing in the doorway with my keys still in my hand, it hit me.
Sunday mornings. The firehouse kitchen. Mateo was at the stove making pancakes for the crew, flour on his shirt and a spatula in his hand, humming that exact melody while he flipped and poured and made everyone laugh.
He'd learned it from his grandmother, he'd told me once. Some old song she used to sing while she was cooking. He’d hummed it every Sunday for three years, and I hadn’t heard it since the day he died.
Until that evening.
Lucy turned and saw me standing there. The humming stopped. Her expression shifted, concern replacing contentment.
"Cal? What's wrong?" There was worry in her voice.
You carry pieces of him you don't even know about. You hum his grandmother's song, the one he hummed every Sunday, the one you must have heard so many timesit seeped into you without your knowing. And I can't tell you. It would break us both.
"Nothing." My voice came out rough. I cleared my throat. "Smells good."
She studied my face for a moment longer, not quite believing me. But she let it go, the way we'd both learned to let things go this week. The unspoken agreement that some questions were too heavy to ask.
"It's my mom's marinara," She shrugged, almost apologetic. "Figured I should earn my keep somehow."
"You don't have to earn anything."
The words came out softer than I'd intended. She looked at me, something flickering in her expression, and then she smiled.
Not the broken smile I’d seen that first night, trying to pretend everything was fine. Not the polite smile she gave customers at the café, just for sales. A real smile: warm and unguarded, the kind that reached her eyes and transformed her whole face.
She smiled at me like I'd given her something precious.
And I thought:this is how it happens.
This is how you betray your best friend.
One smile at a time, one meal at a time, until you've stolen the life he should have had.
CHAPTER 7
Lucy
