7. Matteo
Matteo
MATTEO
*link*
ASHFORD
dude
this is so fucking cool
I can’t believe you coded this
MATTEO
it’s far from done
ASHFORD
giving me a heart attack with that statement
how much better can it get?
MATTEO
just you wait and see
Evie doesn’t come out of her room until quarter past ten, which is actually the earliest she’s gotten up this week. Usually I don’t see her until around two o’clock.
I’ve tried everything. I’ve cooked her favorite meals, have put her favorite movies on the TV, have tried asking her to go for walks with me, but she won’t budge. I’ve never so evidently seen depression hit someone like it has Evie, and I don’t think it’s even because of the cheating.
It can’t be.
This is more primitive. All she does is sleep, and if she’s awake, I can hear her crying.
Even in sleep, peace doesn’t find her. I’ve spent every night in her room, running a soothing hand up and down her back. Those first two nights I woke to her screaming at least three times. Ever since, I’ve given up sleeping in my own room and just wait in the hall by her door for the first scream.
Watching Evie in this state is killing me.
She’s a zombie, a mere speck of what she used to be. There’s no life behind her eyes, there’s no joy, no happiness. And I can’t fucking take it anymore.
“Good, you’re up,” I say, closing down my monitors.
Caleb never minded that I set up my monitors in the living room.
They’re tucked away in a nook to the left, facing the windows that overlook downtown Denver.
I love seeing the hustle and bustle of the city while I code.
The view helps pull me away from the screen when a particularly frustrating code won’t go my way or I spend nearly five hours looking for an error, like using a comma instead of a semicolon.
The only response I get is a grunt.
It absolutely guts me that I’ve become used to seeing her eyes so swollen and puffy from crying, that the sight of her walking through the kitchen so broken is normal.
As she has every day, she begins making coffee, ignoring the plate of food I left for her wrapped on the island. This morning, I made strawberry waffles, another of her favorites. She barely glances at it.
I know she’s not being rude, I just don’t think she can stomach eating right now, which is a problem. She looks like she’s lost over five pounds this week alone. If Caleb knew it was this bad, he would kill me for not telling him.
“Good morning to you, too,” I drawl. “Seems we’ve switched places. I’d love for you to start talking so I can go back to grunting.”
She just waves her hand at me.
“Okay, that’s it,” I declare. Standing, I make my way over to her, her eyes widening at my purposeful strides. I stop at the edge of the kitchen and point at her. “We’re leaving this apartment.”
“You might be but I’m not.”
Her voice.
What is usually silky smooth and sultry is now as rough as gravel. I suppose that’s what happens when all you do for a week is scream in your sleep.
Moving for the entryway closet, I begin grabbing mine and Caleb’s hiking gear. “You’re coming, and I don’t care if I have to drag you out by your hair.”
“Kinky.”
My hand freezes, my back tensing. “Dove,” I grit out through clenched teeth.
“Yes, my captor?”
A spark of hope blooms in my chest at her derisive joke. “Captor, my ass. More like savior.”
“Hero complex much?”
“When you clearly need rescuing? Yes.”
“I don’t need rescuing.”
Closing the closet door, I chuck the bags, boots, and sticks on the counter, noting the way her eyes narrow. I don’t care, if I have to keep poking the bear to make her talk, I’ll happily be her punching bag.
Anything to hear the beautiful sound of her voice.
“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you do. You haven’t left the apartment in eight days.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes before taking a sip of her coffee. “It hasn’t been eight days.”
“I picked you up last Tuesday. It’s Wednesday morning.”
Light-blue eyes snap to mine then dart away, not allowing me to savor the sight of them. “Guess that’s what I get for throwing my phone out the window.”
My head rears back. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”
She sighs, cutting me off as she rubs her temples. “Yes, I threw it out the window. Felicity and Carter wouldn’t stop calling and texting me.”
“And you didn’t think to, I don’t know, turn it off?”
“Nope, throwing it out the window felt way more cathartic.”
“You could have blocked them.”
“Again, more cathartic to throw it.”
“Did you hurt someone?”
“No, of course not. I did it at night when no one was walking on the sidewalk. I checked.”
Sliding a hand down my face, I mumble, “We can buy you a new one on the way back but we should go if we want to reach the top before sunset.”
She holds up a finger. “First of all, I don’t want a new phone, and secondly, I am not going anywhere, so I’m in no hurry. If you buy me one, I’ll throw it at you.” And with that, she walks out of the kitchen, past me, and toward the dungeon of hell—aka, her room.
“Oh no you don’t.” Gritting my teeth, I stride after her. “I told you, I’ll drag you out that door if I have to. You’re leaving the apartment today.”
Evie just snorts, her hips swaying. “Good luck with that.”
So fucking mouthy this morning.
Before she can protest, I snatch the coffee out of her hand.
“Hey!” she snaps.
But as she spins, I take that as my moment, bending my knees I all but tackle her, lifting her up and over my shoulder in one fluid motion.
“Put me the fuck down, Valenti!”
“No, you’re becoming a hermit.” Back in the kitchen, I place her coffee in the sink and snatch the bags off the counter. She continues to whack my back but it just feels like a fly bouncing off my skin.
“What are you? Made of titanium?” A burst of surprised laughter leaves my lips, the sound making Evie freeze in my arms. “Oh my god, did you just…laugh?”
“Stop acting surprised every time, it’s annoying. You’ve heard me laugh since we were kids.”
I feel her elbow dig into my back, likely on purpose. “Pfft, and in those long years I could probably count on one hand how many times I’ve heard it. It’s a shock to the system.”
“Good, maybe it will shock the funk right out of you.”
“Rude.”
“Stubborn.”
She lets out a frustrated groan as I carry her and the hiking bags to the front door. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, put me down and let me at least get dressed. You’ve made your point.”
I pause at the front door, hesitant. “You’re not going to lock yourself in the bathroom, are you?”
“What’s the point? It’s connected to your bedroom.”
“This feels like a trap.”
“You need to work on your trust.”
“Says the woman who barricaded her bedroom door the last time I tried to get you out of the apartment.”
She gasps, then an elbow slams into my back again, letting me know that the time before was absolutely not an accident.
“Keep trying, I’m impenetrable.”
“Apparently so is your ego.” Huffing, she resorts to smacking me. “Put me down!”
My lip quirks as I imagine what her face will look like as I tease, “Say please.”
“Ew, no.”
“It’s the least you could do. I could still be charged with vandalism.”
That gives her pause and then I hear the faintest whisper, barely audible to the point I don’t even know if she said please or fuck off. Cupping a hand over my ear, I call out, “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Insufferable fucking cocky bastard hockey player—”
“That didn’t sound like please.”
Groaning, she hits my lower back one more time and then screeches, “Please!”
It takes everything in me to not allow my smile to break free. Bending, I gently drop Evie to the floor. “See, that wasn’t hard, was it?”
A manicured red finger is in my face in the blink of an eye. Now I do let my smile fly.
“Stop pestering me,” she demands.
Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms over my chest. “You have ten seconds flat to dress for a hike before I fireman—”
Evie’s blonde hair goes flying as she hightails it up the stairs. Her stomps are like music to my ears, until the sound of her cussing me out fills the apartment.
Followed by a sudden thump, curse, and a loud crash that is undoubtedly her body.
Now I’m truly laughing.
Even tears spring into my eyes.
“Stop laughing at me!” she calls from upstairs.
“Never!”
Evie is the clumsiest woman I’ve ever met, and fuck, don’t I love her for it. You could forewarn her that a branch is in the middle of the path, and she’d still somehow manage to trip over it.
On second thought, maybe this hike isn’t the best idea.
As if we’re always in tune, Evie comes barreling down the stairs, the sight of her stealing my breath and laughter. She’s in fitted black leggings and a tight navy top that makes those blue eyes of hers pop.
“If I fall off a cliff on a hike you dragged me to, I’ll haunt you until your dying breath.”
Swallowing thickly, I avert my gaze from her legs before my mind takes a dive off the friendship board and straight into the gutter.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” I drawl to distract myself.
Evie rolls her eyes before strutting past me and picking up a hiking pack. “Of course you don’t. I’m sure you never believed in Santa either.”
“Of course I didn’t,” I say smoothly, placing my bag over my shoulder and opening the apartment door for her. She goes to duck under my arm as I add, “My parents never let me.”
Evie pauses a mere inch from me, her head snapping up as something akin to shame washes over her features.
Lowering my head, I expect her to pull away, but to my surprise, she allows me to move closer. “Don’t grow soft on me, Dove,” I whisper. “I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity I feel for you, Valenti,” she replies. “It’s rage.” She steps under my arm, her hips swaying as she walks down the hall toward the elevator. “Remind me to chew your parents a new one next time I see them.”
“Good luck with that. I haven’t even seen them this year.”
“Well then I have two things to cuss them out for,” she declares as I lock the door behind me.
The elevator dings, signaling the cart has arrived moments before the door opens. Stepping in, I quickly press the button for the garage.
Evie’s lips purse. “So, which trail are you forcing me to walk?”
“Bluebird Lake.”
She spins to face me. “That’s a six-hour trail!”
“I know,” I say, ignoring her look of pure indignation.
Sputtering, she pushes off the elevator wall. “I thought we’d do an easy one-hour walk, not a goddamn hike!”
“I said hike, not walk,” I state flatly. “We’ve done harder ones before. You’ll be fine.”
She throws her arms in the air. “I should have locked myself in the bathroom.”