“Wanna watchMasterChefwith me while Austin makes us grilled cheese sandwiches?” Luca asks.
I hesitate. “Really?”
“Sure,” Austin says, smiling. “Luca swears I don’t make them as good as my ma, so I’ve gotta prove him wrong.”
“Okay, yeah… that would be nice.”
When Austin steps away from the couch, Luca pulls me down beside him, stealing part of the blanket he wrapped around me and covering himself with it too.
He’s sitting close, and it’s comforting. I hate being alone. As he turns the TV on and gets the show queued up, Austin closes a cabinet and then opens the fridge, and I settle deeper into the couch, enjoying the sounds of other humans and enjoying Luca’s company.
“Do you wanna know a secret?” he whispers, low enough that only I can hear.
“Sure,” I whisper back, glancing at him.
His lips curl into a smirk, and his eyes flash with happiness. “Austin already does make them as good as his mom.”
That warms my heart. It’s all so very complicated for me, but God, am I happy he’s happy.
Chapter 12
Theo
1 week later (mid-April)
Itwasn’thardtoget a new job. Forcing myself out of bed to actually show up, though? Now that’s something else entirely.
Trudging to my bathroom, I stand in front of the mirror and brush my teeth. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be out of bed at all, but my rent is already behind. Quitting my job and leavingtown seemed like the right thing to do in the moment, and in some ways, I can’t regret it.
But it also sucks. Now I’ve been there. I’ve existed in Luca’s orbit. I know that it’s hard to be around him, but it’s also freeing. I know that being out of the city with horses and baby goats, with fresh eggs cooked for breakfast, is perfection.
Knowing is the worst. It was easy to pretend before. Well, it was easier. Now that I know what it’s like—the quiet, the softness, the joy—it’s hard coming back to… this.
My bed has a broken spring or something, and I didn’t realize how hard it was on my back until I compared it to the plush comfort of the beds at Millie’s Bed & Breakfast.
I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed the simple sounds of nature until my only backdrop was the constant blaring of car horns and people yelling.
It’s made everything so much worse, so much harder than it was before. Happiness lived as this abstract thing. Something I could see, something right in front of me, but that I could never reach out and touch. It’s like being a small child, staring through the window of a store at a toy, but only getting as far as pressing your nose to the glass. Always wanting and reaching, but never quite able to touch the thing you’re yearning for.
The closest I’ve come in years to touching it was riding Molls, the wind whipping off my face, while listening to the sounds of Hunter’s laughter.
I shake those thoughts off. They won’t do me any good.
He’s texted me twice. Once on the day I got home, and then again last night. I haven’t responded. Not because I don’t want to, but because after the way I embarrassed myself in front of him, I’m not surehowto respond.
He was in an impossible position. I know that. Who meets someone and says, “Oh hey, by the way, I know about the giant scar your ex-husband gave you when he tried to kill you.”
No one.
And if he had, I would have gotten right back in my car and left. My shame would have never let me stay. Besides, he had no way of knowing I was going to kiss him. I sure didn’t. Not until I fisted my hand in his shirt and my lips were on his.
Sure, I’d felt betrayed in the moment, but I’m pretty confident that he wasn’t intentionally keeping what he knew from me to hurt me. He wasn’t using it to get close to me or to take advantage of me.
I just keep replaying the whole thing over and over. If he hadn’t put his hand under my shirt, what would have happened? If I hadn’t freaked out? Would we be talking right now? Texting? Would I have stayed? Doubtful. Not like I could have just stayed permanently at their sweet little bed-and-breakfast.
Not without a job. And even with a job, paying for the one-week stay nearly emptied my bank account. There’s no way that I’d be able to handle paying that monthly.
As is, I can barely make my rent, but that’s a problem for future me. Present me can’t handle even thinking about it.
