Chapter 15
Austin
When Luca comes out of the bedroom half an hour later, I have toast and syrup ready for him and the next episode of MasterChef queued up on the TV.
His steps are tentative as he makes his way across the living room and sits down next to me. I’m not sure what’s going on with him tonight, but I didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable.
“Here.” As soon as he sits down beside me, I hand him the plate. He takes it slowly, then sits back on the couch. “Get comfy.”
He cuts a piece off his toast and takes a bite, studying me for a second. I won’t make him do something he doesn’t want. Absolutely fuck that, but I do want him to be able to relax. “Sit back against the arm and put your feet up here.”
He rolls his eyes with a huffed laugh but finally does what I’ve asked, placing his feet across my thighs close to my knees. “This is good.”
“I haven’t even started rubbing them yet,” I tease, smiling when he laughs.
“The toast.”
Grabbing the remote, I hit play, then toss the remote to the side to start rubbing his feet.
It’s not anything I have to think too hard about, and I find myself zoning out as I work my thumbs along his ankle and down to the heel and then the arch of his foot.
I go between the two, making sure to keep my touch on the heavy side.
I can’t be too light. God forbid I accidentally tickle him.
I got kicked in the side once for that when I was twelve, and I’m not in a hurry to experience a repeat.
I’m lost in my task, watching the home chef on TV burn their pastry, when a soft groan catches my attention. I make a valiant effort to ignore it, focusing harder on the TV when it happens again.
My heart races, my blood boiling in my veins. God, that sound should not be affecting me this way. It’s not like there’s anything overtly sexual happening, but my brain—and more specifically, my dick—doesn’t seem to understand that.
“I’m gonna grab a drink,” I say, carefully pushing Luca’s feet off my lap. “Do you want anything?”
“I’ll take a glass of water, please.”
I nod, not even daring to glance in Luca’s direction, and nearly bolt from the couch in my hurry to get to the kitchen and away from him. This isn’t like me at all, and I need to get my head on straight. Luca deserves better than this.
After filling two glasses with water, I take a deep breath and sit back down beside him, handing his drink to him.
I shouldn’t—I know I shouldn’t—but I watch Luca take a sip. Watch the way his throat bobs with the swallow, watch the way a bead of water clings to his lower lip, and watch the way his tongue swipes it away. My gut tightens, my eyes glued to the spot.
Okay, what in the hell is happening to me today? I think I need to get out of town, go find a hookup or something. I clear my throat, dragging my eyes away from Luca. “I’m thinking about going out Saturday night.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s been a while, you know?” I sound like a teenager who has no control over his own libido.
“Sure,” Luca says with a chuckle. “I get it. Too busy taking care of me to get laid. Too small of a house to get off with me here. I can always leave for the day too if you want. I can hang out with Arlo.”
Ugh. I want that even less. “No, it’s alright. Can I ask you something?”
Fear flashes through Luca’s eyes, and my breath leaves me in a quick rush. “Yes.” The tremor in his voice is impossible to miss.
“Did my ma try to set you up with Arlo?”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Luca bursts out laughing. “Yeah, actually. That was definitely the vibe I got. ‘Oh, you two boys would just get along so well,’” Luca says, mimicking my mom’s accent. He shrugs. “I’m not interested, though. Never dating again, remember?”
Right. Yeah, no, definitely. The way that makes something hot and uncomfortable tighten in my stomach is fucked, but not a huge deal, surely.
It’s probably just the strangeness of Luca working and not being here all the time, but of course I want him to make friends and hang out with people.
I want him to find his spark again. It’s normal.
And healthy. I should want those things for him. I do.
“Yeah, I remember.”
Luca yawns.
“Well, I guess it’s about time for bed. We both have to work tomorrow,” I say, standing so he doesn’t have time to argue with me that he’s not tired.
“Goodnight, Austin,” he mumbles, and when I glance at him, he’s picking at a nonexistent piece of lint on his pants.
“Night, Luc.”
After I’ve disappeared into the bedroom and stripped down to my briefs, I pull the door back open, leaving it cracked, then climb into bed. I’m not really tired, and even if I were, my head is too tangled to feel like I could sleep anyway.
I toss and turn, my thoughts going a million miles a minute.
I don’t get it. Sure, Luca and I have always been two peas in a pod.
We’ve always been up each other’s asses and pretty much only needed one another, but I should be happy for him.
I should be thrilled that he’s working now and that he’s making friends.
Jealousy is such a strange thing to feel where Luca is concerned.
Until Damien, he’s never put anyone above me.
And even then, he literally risked his own safety to keep in contact with me.
I give myself a shake. No, Luca having friends doesn’t make me less important.
That’s a line of thinking I need to shut down right fucking now.
I’ll never, ever make Luca feel like he has to choose between friendships outside ours and ours.
Never. That’s fully Damien’s territory, and I’m nothing like that asshole.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my spiraling. “Come in.”
Luca pushes the door open, then stands in the open doorway, his gaze on the floor. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I echo.
He clears his throat, twisting his fingers nervously in front of him. “I, um, I can’t sleep.”
“Are you okay?” I can’t help but ask.
“Yeah. Yes.” Luca’s chest rises and falls quickly, barely illuminated in the low lighting of the room. “Do you think it’d be alright if I slept in here again?” My heart threatens to pound its way out of my body. “I, uh—I feel safer with you.”
“Of course,” I choke out, my voice raspy and raw to my own ears. I wish I could blame it on sleep. That would make so much more sense, but I can’t. It was those words. I feel safer with you.
Without another word, I lift the blanket, inviting Luca to join me. His steps are damn near silent as he makes his way across the floor. No tripping and falling over himself this time. No rush to escape the room unnoticed. Just his soft but sure steps and him climbing in beside me.
When he’s settled, I cover him up, tucking the blanket up around his chin and barely—just fucking barely—resisting the urge to press a kiss to his forehead.
I would have before. I have, even, in the past, but something is happening to me. Or maybe something is happening to Luca, and nothing feels right.
No, that’s not it. It’s not that it doesn’t feel right. It’s just that it feels… different.
We lie side by side in the dark, both of us on our backs, my gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Luca says quietly.
“Do you still love Damien?”
Silence stretches between us. Long enough that I almost regret my words, but I do want to know, so I bite my tongue and resist the urge to take them back.
After what feels like an eternity, Luca sighs, then rolls to his side to face me. “No.” Something that feels an awful lot like relief rushes through my veins. “Why do you ask?”
I roll to my side as well, scanning Luca’s face in the dark.
His bruises are long gone—his skin a pale canvas, the dusting of freckles over his cheeks no longer marred with marks and pain.
“I was just wondering. I’m sure it’s strange to be away from him after all this time. Even if it was bad and he hurt you.”
Luca hums. “Yeah, I guess so. In some ways it is; in others? Not so much.”
“What do you mean?”
His expression is thoughtful. “He was my everything, you know?” Luca pauses, then shakes his head.
“Not in like a good way. I didn’t make a single decision that didn’t revolve around him.
I didn’t make dinner without his input; I didn’t go to the grocery store unless he approved it.
I wasn’t allowed to buy new shoes with the credit card he gave me to use until I asked for permission. ”
Fuck. “You deserve better than that.”
“I know,” Luca says, nodding. “But the thing is, it doesn’t feel like it.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. “It’s like that story of the frog in boiling water. Have you heard of it?”
I shake my head.
“So, it’s basically this: if you put a frog in a pot of water and start to boil it, the frog will acclimate to the temperature increase—or at least it thinks it is—so by the time the water is boiling, it’s too late; the frog’s already dead.”
“But you got out,” I say, horror at the thought of Luca being a boiled frog tearing at my heart. “You didn’t boil.”
Luca lets out a sad laugh. “No, but that’s because of you. Not everyone has an Austin ready to jump in and save the day. It was pure luck that I didn’t let him isolate me from you. I made other friends in Ohio.”
“Oh?” He’s never mentioned anyone to me, which I guess should have been a red flag.
“Yeah.” He adjusts, slipping his arm under his pillow to prop his head up some.
“I used to do yoga. And I met this woman—Katie—she had a little boy. He was young, only a couple of months old. We were really close for a while.” He pauses, swallowing hard, his eyes glazing over like he’s remembering something awful.
“I guess that should have been my first clue.”
I wait to see if he’s going to elaborate, and when he doesn’t, I say, “First clue?”
“Yeah,” he whispers. “That something wasn’t right. It started off innocently enough, right? Asking me questions. Wanting to know about her. I didn’t think anything of it. But then he started accusing me of cheating.”