8. Evie
Evie
MATTEO
your best friend is psychotic
ELLINGTON
Evie???
why are you texting me from Matteo’s phone?
MATTEO
I threw mine out the window
ELLINGTON
I’m coming home
MATTEO
do that and I’ll buy a phone just to throw it at your face
don’t call my bluff, I’ve already threatened the same to Matteo
which speaking of, tell him to stop being a health freak and take me home!
ELLINGTON
no can do little sis
you’re turning into a sewer rat, you need sunshine
MATTEO
harsh
I see it as more of a hibernation period
Am I being a bitch?
Absolutely.
Have I managed to scrounge up a single fuck to stop myself from being a bitch?
Absolutely not.
I haven’t said a single word to Matteo since starting the hike. I’m being beyond frustrating and my behavior is severely leaning toward toddler tantrum territory, but I think deep down I know this is good for me and that’s why I’m pissed.
I’m not ready yet.
I’m not ready to come out of the hole I’ve crawled into, I’m not ready to face my emotions, and I’m certainly not ready to rebuild my life. Besides my brother, everything has changed, and I’m utterly fucking terrified.
So, I’m taking it out on Matteo. However, if I didn’t know any better, I could swear he doesn’t mind. Although, he has been pissy every time I throw a small stick at him. It’s what I’ve been doing when he tries to talk to me.
Like right now.
“Do you need—”
The small stick bounces off his head.
Matteo comes to a screeching halt, whipping around to face me fully, planting his hands on his hips. He removed his T-shirt ten minutes in so the move does nothing but draw my eyes to the abs rippling down his stomach as he grunts out, “Stop. Fucking. Throwing. Sticks. At. Me.”
Despite his clipped words, I can’t for the life of me actually look at his face. I can’t even be annoyed with myself. Matteo is so beautiful, even a nun would have a hard time looking away.
I think he knew what he was doing by going shirtless as well.
The fucker. Attractive bastard.
I lift my nose in the air. “No.”
“What are you doing?”
“Arguing.”
“Yes, I can fucking tell. What I don’t understand is why.” Matteo drops his arms, a look of utter defeat overcoming him. “Is this really that miserable for you? We used to hike together all the time.”
Guilt wracks my body, my stubborn chin slowly lowering. I’ve never seen Matteo so open like this, have never been able to read his emotions so easily as I can now, and the only difference is…this time he’s allowing me to. Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, of course not. It’s just…”
Matteo waits patiently, allowing me a moment to unscramble my thoughts.
Blowing out a breath, I spot a fallen log to the side. I drop down on it, taking water out of my pack and officially commencing a break.
I pull the hair tie out of my hair and redo my ponytail, needing to do something with my hands. I can feel him watching me, waiting, and I know he won’t drop this. No matter how long I take, Matteo will wait. He has the patience of a saint when it comes to me.
Sighing once more, I finally admit, “I’ll sound pathetic.”
“I’ll never judge you, Dove. You know that.”
I bite my bottom lip. Do you know how hard it is to talk to someone about your crumbling, shitty life when that said person excels at everything? It’s torture.
“I’m tired.” A humorless laugh escapes me.
“So fucking tired, all the time. Brushing my teeth? Going to the bathroom? Cooking myself a meal? The thought of creating a new resume and job hunting? Tired, tired, tired, tired. Even the sound of my mother’s voice right now creates a bone-deep exhaustion in me.
” Spreading my arms out, I admit, “I am so fucking exhausted that I am tired from being exhausted.”
Matteo bends down, squatting in front of me with his arms hanging over his knees. “Are you depressed, Dove?”
The question is asked so gently that I’m surprised my eyes start to burn, surprised that my throat tightens—all the telltale signs that I’m about to cry.
A tear springs free, rolling down my cheek before I quickly swat it away. Even when I believe I’ve cried myself dry, my body somehow produces more.
“I don’t know. Maybe? I’ve never had depression. I don’t know what it feels like.”
Matteo cocks his head, his tone even gentler than before. “I think it feels exactly like what you’re describing.”
I blow out a raspberry. “Well…that sucks.”
Matteo nods slowly, watching me. “This isn’t just about the break-up, is it?”
My heart sinks, a tsunami of emotions rising to the surface, and before I can try and stop it, the dam within me breaks, and the truth spills free. “No.”
A pained expression crosses Matteo’s face. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I can’t,” I breathe, tears flowing faster than before. “And I think that’s what’s destroying me.”
“Why can’t you?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I lock my watery eyes on his devastated green ones. “It will change everything,” I confess.
“How so?”
Like it always does when I think about it, my gut churns. “Everyone’s lives will change.” Offering a sad smile, I go on. “And I don’t think I can bear to be the one to destroy them.”
I can see Matteo’s mind whirling, the cogs turning, but no matter how much he tries to place the puzzle pieces together, he will never uncover the truth.
How fucking lucky that my secret is so morbidly horrific that no one could ever guess it.
I take a steadying breath to try and ease the bile. “So no, the hike isn’t horrible. I’m just—”
“Struggling.”
My sigh is weighted with exhaustion. “Yes.”
“Exercise helped me when I was depressed.”
My brows snap upwards. “You’ve had depression?”
“I think it’s physically impossible to grow up in the household I was raised in and not have depression at least once.” Matteo tries to offer me a smile, but it looks more like a grimace. “It’s how I found hockey. Falling in love with the sport saved me.”
I frown. “I don’t think it’s the same for me.”
“With all due respect, it’s been an hour, Dove. You’ve got to give your body time to fly.”
I snort out a laugh, a real one this time. “To try and heal my wings?”
“Precisely.”
Groaning, I let my head drop back, looking to the sunny, cloudless sky. “Fineee,” I sigh. “I suppose I’ve been a little…grouchy.”
“You think?” Matteo deadpans.
Righting my head once again, I smack his shoulder. “I’m depressed. Be nice to me.”
Matteo’s head falls back on a deep belly laugh and the sound…I wish I could bottle it. It has been, and I think will always be, my favorite sound. It’s a rarity, but God, it soothes something in my soul.
Rising, he holds out a hand. “Come on, Dove, give the outdoors a chance. You never know, you could feel better by the end of it.”
Offering a coy smile, I slide my hand in his, ignoring the electricity that courses down my arm at his touch. I dust off the dirt from my legs and wave him forward. “Lead the way then, Valenti.”
Two and a half hours later, the lake comes into view. The feeling of accomplishment that flows through my veins is addicting, the ache in my feet and knees worth it for this singular, spectacular view.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, awe coating my words.
“Holy shit indeed.”
Despite it being early June, snow still sprinkles the caps of the surrounding mountain peaks. It’s mesmerizing, the blue lake so still it calms something inside me.
I do feel better, surprisingly more energized despite the trek. Although, I didn’t realize how unfit I was until this hike. Matteo glided up the mountain, while I was a mere breath away from collapsing at any point.
Maybe I should take up running.
“You were right,” I reluctantly admit, not taking my eyes off the glacial water.
“Music to my ears.”
Ignoring the cocky drawl, I go on. “Why should I be the one held up in bed? Why should I crumble and not the people who have done me wrong?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“But really, it’s like I’m drinking poison waiting for my enemies to die. I’m wilting away every day, and for what? Just because I feel shitty doesn’t mean it’s going to make him feel bad about himself and what he’s done.”
“I don’t think Carter has the ability to feel empathy. He’d never feel horrible for what he did.”
I wasn’t talking about Carter or even Felicity for that matter.
Matteo doesn’t need to know that, though.
Taking a seat, Matteo makes himself comfortable, his eyes remaining glued on the lake. I sit beside him, propping my bag up behind me so I have something to lean on as I let my mind travel down the rabbit hole.
No matter how sad or angry I get at the situation, it won’t affect him. It won’t give me the justice I so desperately deserve. And when I wake to the memories of his head above mine in the dark, no amount of anger will kill him, either.
I fantasize daily about getting a call that he was in a freak accident. That might sound morbid and make someone’s moral heart twist in discomfort, but it would make everything so much easier. It would take the decision out of my hands and I wouldn’t have to face a reality that crushes my soul.
Yet no amount of wishing is working. All it’s doing is slowly killing me.
He’s taken enough of me. He doesn’t deserve to take my sanity too.
“I don’t know where to begin,” I say honestly, my thoughts spinning a mile a minute. “I need to find a job, a new place to live. I don’t even know if I want to keep working in finance.”
“It never suited you.”
I hum in agreement. “It didn’t, did it?”
His nose wrinkles, and it’s the most adorable sight. “Too stuffy and stuck up for your personality.”
The lake seems to be pulling all my secrets from me.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as I shrug and confess, “Math has always come easy to me, but just because it’s easy doesn’t mean I was passionate about it.
” In fact, I despised my job. I felt like a hamster running on a wheel, being told when to get on and off, what speed to sprint at.