Chapter 25 Luca #2
The walk is slow going, but I don’t care.
It feels good to move; it feels even better to be outside.
I have no way of knowing, but I’m sure I’ve never spent so much time cooped up as I have this past week.
I’m so ready to get back to my life—whatever it was—that even being outside, I can’t shake the vibrating hum of energy inside.
It’s easier to breathe out here. Easier to think, though it feels like that’s all I do lately, trying to remember, trying to figure out how I feel about everything, trying to read Emery, trying to file every detail away.
Sometimes I look at her and don’t need her to explain how or why we fell in love—I can imagine so easily that I fell hard—something in her movements or an expression she makes.
But there are other times, when her expression closes down, or she gets in her own head and doesn’t seem to realize there’s someone else nearby, that I wonder how well we actually worked outside of the bedroom.
I meant what I said earlier: that I see her more clearly now.
It’s not hard to imagine how her parents’ death ignited the fire that drives her, forged an urgency to stop anyone else from experiencing the same loss.
And I can see that maybe she could never fully let go with me, either; she’d be terrified of loss. At least work would never leave her.
I see how hard she’s trying to create something new between us.
I get the sense that vulnerability was not something she let me see before, which makes it so much more precious now.
I had the not-so-near-death experience, but Emery seems to be the one who’s changing.
Or maybe I am, too? It’s odd to learn about yourself from other people, each story a breadcrumb, every detail another puzzle piece.
I like past Luca, he seemed like a good guy, but I see his faults as well.
Maybe this is how it works, maybe this is how Em and I grow together.
Honey and I walk around the block and down a couple streets before heading in the direction of home.
I stop at the corner at the end of my street, and realize where I am.
This is where it happened, where I… died.
I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe the outline of a body, a neon sign that says HERE LIES LUCA, white light, and a choir?
But it’s just an intersection; there aren’t even skid marks on the road.
It’s a little anticlimactic.
We start walking again and I notice a parked car. Not every house in this neighborhood has a two-car driveway, so I gather that cars parked on the street aren’t unusual, but this one is familiar. I’m pretty sure it drove by earlier.
Deciding to hang back in the shadow of a large magnolia tree, I give Honey’s leash some slack so she can sniff around a fire hydrant.
The car is parked on the same side of the street but facing away from me.
I wouldn’t think much of it, except that the silhouette of the driver is visible inside.
A man, just sitting in the dark car, appearing to look straight out the windshield.
Is that weird? I don’t have a clue. But something about it unsettles me.
A few moments later, the driver opens the door, climbs out, and closes the door so carefully that no sound reaches me only about thirty feet away. He hasn’t noticed me yet, his focus entirely on the far end of the street.
On our house.
I know Emery wouldn’t want me to approach him, but a protective instinct flares anyway. He isn’t acting like he lives here and just stopped for a moment on his way home. He looks like he’s surveilling the area.
With a soft click of my tongue, I get Honey’s attention, and we head down the sidewalk toward the car.
“Hey there,” I call out when I’m about ten feet away.
The man whips around, eyes wide in surprise. He squints at me and then says simply, “Oh. Hi.”
I’m at the passenger side, looking at him over the roof of the car. He’s wearing a baseball cap pulled low, his face in shadow, but I can make out dark hair and a collared shirt under some kind of monogrammed zip-up vest.
“Nice night, isn’t it?” I ask.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Sure is.”
“Were you looking for an address or…?” I trail off, rounding the front of the car and walking a few paces from him.
“Oh, yeah, I, uh…” He swallows, squinting to the side. He’s wiry but has a weak jaw, his chin smoothly transitioning to neck. “I’m looking at buying in the area.”
Strange time to come visit the neighborhood, I think.
“Is that your dog?” he asks, lifting his chin.
I reach down, ruffling the fur behind her ears. “Yeah, this is Honey.”
“Honey,” he repeats, eyes locked on her. “I’m Frank.” He looks up at me expectantly.
Relieved that we don’t know each other, I hold out my hand, “I’m Luca.”
He shakes it, but his spine is rigid, shoulders tense. The intensity of his gaze puts me on edge, the way it moves over my face like he’s cataloging every detail. Honey watches the entire interaction. Her ears are back, and I swear she doesn’t blink.
“You said you’re in the market?” I ask him.
“Yeah, I am.” His eyes slide to Honey and back again. “You live in this neighborhood?”
I nod, lifting my chin up the street. “That way.”
“How long have you lived here? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“A few years now.”
“And you like it?”
“Yeah. It’s quiet. Neighbors watch out for each other.”
“Ahh,” he says in understanding. “A blessing and a curse, that one.”
I laugh. “It can be.”
“And your wife? She likes it, too?”
I pause. I didn’t say anything about being married. I suppose he could have seen the ring on my finger and assumed, but I don’t like it. “It’s great being so close to the beach,” I say vaguely.
“That’s always a plus,” Frank says. “I’ve never been much of a beach guy myself, but I get the appeal.” He points to my leg, the bandages visible at the hem of my shorts, my weight on the cane. “Looks like maybe you wiped out a few too many times.”
“Just an accident at work. Nothing too serious.”
“Huh.”
We both glance up at a car turning at the top of the street, the headlights cutting across us in a slash of bright light. The car slows like the driver is checking for street numbers, but then it turns into my driveway. My heart skips.
It’s a police car. Has something happened to Emery?
I blink back at the sound of Frank tapping his driver’s-side window. “I’d better head home. Nice to meet you, Luca.”
“You, too,” I say distractedly. I should watch which direction Frank goes when he leaves, but my attention is firmly on the two officers that emerge from the car and begin walking toward my front door.