Chapter 8
NOW
Bennett
The next morning, I start on the coffee and my own breakfast. It’s a Tuesday, which means Ro is already awake and dressed when I come down, working on her computer at the counter. Our only other morning companion is usually Oliver, though it’s a school day so he won’t be here.
It’s only quiet for twenty minutes before Freddy comes down in his boxers, half-asleep and looking for his girlfriend. I take the opportunity to step away and dress upstairs, grabbing my things.
Freddy’s still in his boxers when I come back downstairs, though his girlfriend is quietly begging him to go up and change before they’re late. He only concedes after a kiss that feels inappropriate to be privy to.
Sadie and Rhys come down soon after, both dressed and quietly talking over something that must be upsetting Rhys, going off the look on his face.
My shoulders tense; the need to help is almost overwhelming—before it sinks away to nothing as Sadie stops Rhys and smooths her fingers over the dip in his brow, kissing him heartily.
He has Sadie. She’s helped him more than you ever did. He doesn’t need you—
I close my eyes briefly, taking a few long breaths.
We’re all in the kitchen; the noise is loud but it feels right. Turnover plays from the speakers in the corner and most everyone grabs something off the breakfast platter I’ve prepared.
When the house is loud like this, warm and vibrant, I think of her most. The pain of missing her hits me hardest in the shower, when the water sluices over my skin and she’s not there. But when I’m with my friends—my family—my mind floats into dreams.
Paloma in my sweatshirt, sitting at the bar top, warm brown eyes and flushed skin from an early morning shower. Feeding her. Making her coffee. Writing her a poem and slipping it into her bag before we leave. Together.
The way it was supposed to be.
Still, I smile because my friends are happy. I turn away before I can ruin it, reaching for my coffee as I back out of the kitchen area, when I stumble into someone in the hallway.
“Sorry,” a voice whispers.
A voice I know more intimately than my own. For a moment, I’m sure I’m hallucinating.
I turn so swiftly I almost trip, coming face-to-face with a piece of my soul.
The love of my goddamn life.
Paloma Blake.