Chapter 7
Theo
A young guy with slicked-back hair comes up to us as soon as we walk inside. “Welcome to Daisy’s. Let me get you a—oh, hey, Hunter.”
“Arlo,” Hunter says, tipping his head, and I can’t help but grin. This town is so cute, and it really seems like everyone just knows everyone.
Arlo smiles, turning his attention to me. “You must be Theo. Come get ya a seat, and I’ll get Luca out here. Austin stopped by, so he’s in the kitchen talking.”
“I am, and no rush,” I say quickly. I don’t want Luca to be interrupted while he’s with Austin.
Arlo shakes his head. “No, he’ll want to come out. He’s been waiting to take his break until you got here.”
Oh. Well, I’m not sure how I feel about that. Good, I think.
Arlo leads us to a table, and I sit down across from Hunter and then take a second to look around. This place is cute. Old-timey in a way I’ve never seen. I’d imagine it’s what stepping into the past feels like. The booths are red, and the floor is checkered black and white.
It should be a cliché, but somehow… it just really works.
I startle when Luca approaches the table, sliding into the booth next to me. “Hey, guys.”
He’s got a huge smile on his face, and the twinkle in his light gray eyes makes just a tiny bit of my guilt lift. I hate that I couldn’t save him from Damien, but I’m happy that he’s happy, even though it does make my stomach twist in agony that I can’t be.
I’d never wish my fate on him, though. Or anyone, really. This is no way to live.
“Hi,” I say back.
Glancing across the table, Luca frowns. “Hey, Hunter.”
“Hi, Luc.”
“I was really sorry to hear about your dad. Are you guys handling things okay?”
His dad? What happened?
Hunter’s lips turn up in a sad smile. “As well as we can be. Mom’s just trying to stay busy, and things have been a little hectic on the farm. You and Austin should swing by soon and meet Lila.”
“Who’s Lila?” Luca asks, leaning over the table toward Hunter.
“The cutest goat in existence,” I chime in, and Luca turns to me.
“Oh. I thought it was a girl.”
“She is,” Hunter says, chuckling.
Luca pulls a straw from his apron pocket and launches it at Hunter. “I meant a human girl, you dingdong.”
Hunter laughs. “You haven’t called me that since my freshman year.”
Interesting. Maybe Luca doesn’t know Hunter’s gay. I wonder why not if that’s the case. “She’s really cute,” I say, and Luca turns his attention back to me. “Hunter taught me how to feed her.”
“He’s a natural. Gonna have him converted to small-town life in no time.”
Luca chuckles. “Hey, I’ll take all the help I can get.”
All the help he can get? Is he trying to convert me to small-town life? Something warm unfurls in my chest at the possibility.
“Okay, so,” Luca says, shifting in his seat to turn to me. “I wanted to talk to you about something, but I’m not sure…” He trails off, glancing at Hunter.
“I’ll go talk to Austin. Is he still in the kitchen?” Hunter asks, already standing from the booth.
“He is,” Luca says, barely casting him a glance.
When we’re alone, he lowers his voice. “I’ve been thinking about writing a book. Well, I’m already writing one. But another. About… well, about our experiences. I write romance, and I was considering writing a book about healing and finding new love after domestic abuse.”
My body goes cold.
“I just… I wanted to make sure that was something you’d be okay with before I dove in.”
I clear my throat. “It’s your experience, Luca… You don’t need my permission to talk about that.”
He frowns. “No, I know. I just… I guess I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t upset you.”
I shake my head. “No. I think you deserve to heal in whatever way you see fit.”
“How did you heal?”
Some days I’m not sure I have. “Therapy, mostly.”
Luca nods. “Yeah, I’ve been seeing a therapist. She really helps. Being home helped a lot too.”
Being home. I wish I knew what that felt like.
Home. I don’t have a home. Not in the way he’s describing.
I have an apartment that is scarcely furnished, in a shitty part of the city, around the corner from the job I couldn’t keep.
The tone of his voice when he says that word is just as foreign to me as the word itself.
I haven’t felt at home since I turned my back on my parents.
Since they tried to tell me who Damien was.
Since I ignored them. I don’t even know if they’re alive.
Or if they miss me. Or if they’d want to hear from me.
That fear alone is enough to keep me from looking. From reaching out. From going home.
No. My parents aren’t home anymore. But the sad thing is, I’m not sure anywhere else is either.
Luca drums on the table with his fingers, bringing my attention back to him. “Luca.”
His eyes find mine. “You do whatever you need to do to heal. If that means you write a book that reflects your life, you write that book. It’s no one’s business but yours how you choose to heal.”
He nods. “You’re right.”
I force a smile even though I can feel my energy draining every second that I’m here. “I am. I would make a joke that I’m older and wiser, but…”
Luca barks out a surprised laugh that brings a genuine smile to my face. “Alright, I just wanted to make sure you were okay with that. I’m sorry I took up so much of your lunch.” He stands, then pulls a small pad from his apron pocket. “What can I get you?”
I glance down at the table, then back at him. “A menu.”
He chuckles, tapping his forehead. “I forgot you’re not a local. You fit in so well here.”
Biting my tongue so I don’t blurt out that I don’t fit in well anywhere, I shoot him a rueful grin. “We can skip the menu. Just bring me your favorite thing here.”
“Any food allergies?”
I shake my head. “Do you have sweet tea? I’ve always wanted real sweet tea from the South.”
His mouth gapes open, then he bursts into laughter. Something ugly and dark twists my stomach. I don’t understand him. He’s so… whole. So healed. So… not like me at all.
I don’t get it. I don’t understand how, even though he so recently got away from Damien, he’s so…
happy. Even reminding myself that I can look happy on the surface doesn’t help.
The happiness lives in his eyes, and it lights up his face.
I don’t look at myself in the mirror often, but when I do, I never see that light in my eyes.
The worst part is that I don’t even think my unhappiness is from Damien. Not in that way. Not anymore, anyway.
I swallow hard when he composes himself and nods. “It’s funny to me that you consider Silverpine the South.” He shoots me a rueful grin. “I can definitely bring you sweet tea. I’ll send Hunter back out.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, letting my gaze fall to the table as he walks away.
A couple of minutes later, Hunter slides back into the booth across from me. I can’t even make myself raise my eyes, and lunch is quiet. I barely even taste the tea or the food.
I thank Luca when he tells me our food is on the house, but I feel disconnected from my body when Hunter and I stand to leave.
When we get in the truck, he just sits there. He doesn’t even start it. Finally, I drag my eyes to his. He’s staring at me with questions dancing in his gaze. “Are you okay?”
I nod, though it feels sluggish and slow. “Yeah, I think I’ll take that nap after all.”
A knock on the door startles me, and as soon as my eyes fly open, I know it’s morning, not early evening. This was supposed to be a nap, but like I worried it would, it turned into a full night’s sleep.
Goddammit. Fuck. I hate this.
“Theo?” Hunter’s soft voice carries through the door.
I sit up, the blankets pooling around my waist. “Come in.”
The door opens, creaking a bit, and Hunter fills the doorway. “Hi.”
I wave, mostly because I’m not sure I can muster any more words.
“Are you okay?”
Gentle concern is etched into every line of his face, and my heart sinks. Poor man doesn’t need to be worried about me. But for some reason, when I open my mouth to tell him that, all that comes out is a strangled “No.”
His frown deepens. “You didn’t eat last night.”
I shake my head because no, I didn’t. “I’m not hungry.”
Slowly making his way into my room, he gestures to the end of the bed, so I nod, and he sits down. “Are you not hungry, or is it too much energy to think about food?”
My stomach gives a low rumble before I can even answer. “The second one, then,” he says. “Mom made breakfast.” Softening his face, he smiles. “Now, we don’t normally take the ‘bed-and-breakfast’ part so literally, but I’d be happy to bring a plate to you up here. You need to eat.”
Can I even stomach food right now? I’m not sure. All I know is that in four days, I’ll be going home. I’ll need to find another job. I’ll need to take care of myself, and that might mean missing meals because I just can’t. So I nod. “Please.”
He’s out of the room quicker than my brain can process, and I drop back onto the plush pillows. I guess if I’m gonna depression spiral, a bed this comfortable is the place to do it.
When Hunter comes back into the room, holding a plate piled high with food, I sit up again.
He hands it to me without commentary, then turns to leave.
I have no idea why, when I’m so used to it, but I don’t want to be alone. “Wait,” I blurt out, and Hunter pauses. “Will you stay, please?”
He nods. “Course.”
“Can you talk to me?” I ask.
“About what?”
“Anything.”
It’s a lot of food, and there’s no way I’m going to eat it all, but I pick up a slice of bacon, taking a small bite off the corner.
Chewing feels like it takes ten years, and when I swallow, my throat feels too dry, but I take another bite and then another, not stopping until I’ve cleared all the bacon.
Hunter talks the entire time about inconsequential things. How cool it was to watch Molls be born as a kid. How much fun it is to get out under the open sky and ride with the wind whipping past. An older lady he helped at the grocery store two weeks ago.
I put small bites of scrambled eggs in my mouth. Chew, chew, chew. Chew some more because it feels like I’ll never be done chewing. Swallow. Swallow a second time because it didn’t feel like it went down right the first time.
Try to focus on Hunter’s voice. Try to listen as he tells me about falling into a wishing well in the dead of winter when he was eight. Listen as he tells me about high school. As he talks about a new movie that he wants to see.
It’s not until the plate slips from my hands and Hunter catches it with a softly spoken “Let me take that,” that I realize I’m dozing off. Sitting up. With a plate of fucking food in my lap.
“Thank you,” I whisper, the words raw as they leave my mouth.
“Get some more sleep. Do you want me to come get you for Lila’s next feed?”
I nod, my eyes falling closed. “Try to, please.”
“I’ll be back soon, then.”
My body slumps backward, and I let it, too tired to fight it.