Chapter 3
chapter three
LEO
I sigh as soon as my key slides in the lock of my Sorrento apartment.
A loud click echoes through the hall as I turn the small key to the left, but I don’t push the door open right away.
I stay staring at the rusted gold 27 that hangs on the front of the dusty blue door, dread flooding my stomach.
This is the place I lived for years, the place where I nursed my wounds—mentally and physically.
The place where the water ran red down the bathroom sink for what felt like too long.
That night felt too long in itself, like weeks fit in the hours between sunup and sundown.
I take a deep breath, twisting the knob and pushing the door open.
It’s exactly the same as I left it, of course. I hate it. I have the sudden urge to paint the walls from the pristine gray to something warm and full of life, like green.
I dump my overnight bag by the door, not bothering to drag it into the bedroom, the place where the nightmares wracked me so badly those first few months that I would wake up with tears staining my cheeks.
I walk straight into the kitchen, ignoring the dead pot plant by the window as I reach under the sink, my fingers closing around the neck of the bottle of bourbon I stashed there what feels like lifetimes ago.
I don’t bother getting a glass, knowing they’ll have a layer of dust coating them. I pull out a chair and unscrew the lid on the bottle of dark liquid, tipping it toward my lips.
I’m not usually the kind of guy to drown my sorrows, preferring to turn to alcohol when I’m having a good time instead. I’ve heard enough stories to know the kind of bastard that can be made of a man when alcohol is abused, but today is an exception.
It’s only a few days. I’m hoping to have a sale set up by the end of the week, at least, to the point where I can leave my manager, Emilio, to finish things up and head back to Ruby Cove.
I never thought I’d find so much comfort in the small town where I grew up, but going back made me ache for the quiet life it could provide me. Finding peace in the familiarity. The predictability.
A sharp buzz vibrates my back pocket. I set the bottle down and pull my phone out, laying it on the table, seeing Miles’s name appear on my screen.
Miles: So… how’s it being back?
I roll my eyes, unsurprised that he decided to text me right away.
Miles and I connected almost instantly when he arrived in Ruby Cove, and since then, we’ve spent hours in a boxing ring together, training regularly and usually having post-training debriefs as well.
During said debriefs, I found out that he’s spent a lot of time in Sorrento, too, being the place where he and Marina met about five years ago now.
And he knows it’s not exactly my favorite place to be.
I haven’t told him any details, but Miles knows there was an incident that drove me away from this place, right back to my hometown.
I send him a photo of the bottle in front of me.
Miles: That good, huh?
Me: Oh yeah, it’s fucking wonderful.
I sigh when another message comes through, this one from Emilio.
Emilio: See you soon.
That reminds me, I actually have somewhere to be. I huff out a sigh as I stand, my chair scraping across the hardwood floor before I slip back out the door, heading straight for Romano Security.