6. Luca
SIX
Luca
“Really, I can cancel game night. It’s not a big deal,” Katie said in the kitchen Sunday morning while Dallas made omelets with Emilia circling his feet. “I just wasn’t thinking.”
“You don’t need to cancel it because of me,” I told her, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
She leaned against the worn cabinets, a mug cradled in her hands. “But I know you’re not up for anything like that, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I insisted. “I can hang out in the bedroom. I don’t want you guys rearranging your lives for me any more than you already have.”
“Okay.” Her brows threaded together with uncertainty. “But we’ll keep this one shorter. I can say I’m not feeling well.”
“Seriously, Katie.” I moved beside her and nudged her arm with my elbow. “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t normally do. I may not feel up to joining in, but I’m feeling better than I was a few days ago.”
Better was a bit of a stretch, but there had been improvement. Being around friends helped. On Friday I had my first virtual session with Lacey, and she set up an appointment for me to see a psychiatrist in Nashville early the following week. She thought I might benefit from starting medication, and at this point, I was willing to try anything to dig myself out of the dark hole I was in. One shovel at a time; one cup at a time.
“Besides, if we cancel, Caesar will be devastated,” Dallas said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “He gets cranky if he doesn’t get his regular dose of McKenzie.”
My ears perked. “McKenzie from the restaurant?” I asked, and she nodded. “Is Caesar her boyfriend or something?”
Katie snorted. “Absolutely not.”
“Caesar wishes,” Dallas said, expertly flipping the eggs.
Katie took a sip of her coffee. “That crush goes one-way only.”
“McKenzie mostly just tolerates him,” Dallas added. “To be fair, I think she mostly just tolerates everyone. She’s not exactly a cuddly teddy bear.”
“Dallas,” Katie chided him.
“Okay, maybe a teddy bear made out of barbed wire and thorns,” he teased.
Katie swatted his arm.
“You know I love McKenzie. She was the only person who could help me pull my head out of my own ass back when I was being an idiot,” he said, recoiling. “But I’m not saying anything she wouldn’t say herself. The girl isn’t known for her warm personality.”
I stifled a laugh, thinking back on our brief conversation Thursday. That certainly was a way to describe her, but there was something else buried beneath her prickly exterior. When she thought she might’ve hurt my feelings, she seemed concerned. And when I told her I wasn’t okay, she’d said she wasn’t either. There’d been a lost look in her eyes, a sadness that resembled the one in my own.
“She’s plenty warm, Dal,” Katie said, her lips quirking. “She just likes giving you shit, and I can’t really blame her for that.”
“She seems cool,” I said, keeping my tone casual.
She also happened to be beautiful. Not the type of girl I normally would have gone for or taken home for the night, only to forget her name by morning. Then again, McKenzie didn’t strike me as a going-home-for-the-night kind of woman. While I normally preferred girls with long hair, hers was short, barely touching her shoulders. I’d also been known for choosing my conquests by the size of their tits or how short their dresses were. And whereas other women might have fallen over themselves trying to get my attention, she didn’t give a flying fuck.
Those other women were gorgeous. Works of art, painted to perfection, that could have been on magazine covers or fashion runways. So glamorous they almost didn’t feel real, and it occurred to me in that moment that maybe there was a reason I’d sought them out. If I felt they couldn’t possibly be real, then nothing we had could be either.
“She can come across a little standoffish at first,” Katie said. “But she’s so kind and caring once you get to know her. Truly, I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s become such a good friend. I think you’d like her.”
There was something about McKenzie that intrigued me. She was beautiful in an unassuming way, like how an autumn sunset streaked the sky with all its magnificent colors without any pomp or circumstance. But there was more to it than that. Maybe it was her brusque attitude. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed like the type of person who was so impossibly themselves it was almost jarring. Like seeing a polar bear traipsing down I-65 south. We read about them and knew they existed, but it’s not like we saw them in the flesh, let alone just existing in the world like they weren’t some rare, miraculous creature.
“Yeah.” I gave a noncommittal nod. “Maybe.”
“Okay,” Katie said. “Well, if we’re doing this thing tonight, I should make a Trader Joe’s run after breakfast for some snacks. But you’re absolutely sure you’re okay with this?” She turned to me. “Because really, we can cancel it and order some Chinese.”
“I’m sure,” I said. “Promise.”
She and Dallas started listing off the things they would need for the evening, but I found my mind drifting back to McKenzie. Maybe I’d find a reason to come out of my room tonight after all, even if just for a minute.
I must’ve fallen asleep to another one of Lacey’s meditation podcasts sometime after lunch, because when I woke up, my room was dark. Raucous laughter seeped through the slivers of space around the door, letting me know game night had begun.
Despite the minor improvements I’d had, one thing that remained was my exhaustion, particularly during the days right after my therapy appointments. My body reacted to the unearthing of buried feelings as if I were physically digging my way out of a grave—a tomb created by my own mind to hold me prisoner. I clawed my way, one handful of dirt at a time until I was spent.
I released a long breath, scrubbing my hands down my face before glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was a little after eight, which meant I’d slept the day away and that Dallas and Katie’s game night was well under way.
My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since late morning. I needed to sneak out to the kitchen and grab something to eat, so I reached across the mattress, pulling the dainty chain that turned the bedside lamp on.
The heels of my palms rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and I stood, trudging across the room to the door. I started to twist the knob, but stopped short when I remembered who might be out there. I probably wouldn’t run into McKenzie in the kitchen, but on the off chance that I did, I didn’t want to look like I’d just rolled out of bed.
I appraised my reflection in the full-length mirror to the right of the door. My wavy hair had flattened in the center but the sides formed points that resembled horns.
“Fuck,” I muttered, using my fingers as a comb until I’d managed to make the raven strands look somewhat presentable. I shoved my feet into my Converse because absolutely nobody needed to see my feet.
Satisfied, I left the room and padded down the hall to the kitchen. My heart lurched as I stepped into the doorway. McKenzie was there with her back facing me. I recognized the way her light brown hair skimmed her shoulders. She wore a long sleeve shirt, dark jeans, and motorcycle boots with a green and black flannel tied around her waist. One hand rested on her hip while the other squirted whipped cream into her mouth.
“Everything okay in there, McKenzie?” Katie’s voice called.
“Yep,” she shouted back. “Be right there. Just grabbing another beer.”
Her head dropped back with a heavy sigh.
“Fuck my life,” she muttered before taking another pull off the Reddi-Wip.
I choked on a laugh, and she yelped, spinning around to find out where the sound had come from.
“Shit,” she said around a mouthful of foamy cream, a dribble spilling down her chin. “What the fuck, dude?”
“Sorry,” I said, stepping closer to her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just coming in here to grab a snack.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she swiped at the corners of her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt.
I cleared my throat. “You missed a spot.” Before I could stop myself, I reached out to brush away the white dot clinging to her skin, but she pulled back.
“Thanks, but I can do it,” she mumbled, dragging her palm over her face. “Did I get it?”
“Yep,” I said.
She held the can of whipped cream toward me. “You want some? I have no idea why, but they keep tons of this shit in the house.”
I shrugged and took a squirt before handing it back to her.
“You’re staying here?” she asked.
I nodded.
She narrowed her eyes. “And how did you manage to avoid getting roped into game night?”
“Weren’t you getting a beer?” I asked, lifting one brow.
She lowered her voice. “What I was actually doing was avoiding Caesar. I always get stuck on his team when we play Pictionary.”
A grin tugged at my mouth. “Is he just really bad at it?”
“Yes,” she answered. “But he also tries to flirt with me, which he’s equally bad at. He’s a nice guy and all, but I’m just not interested. Not in him, not in anyone. Not ever.”
“So you’re saying there’s a chance?” I teased.
“Okay, I told you why I’m in here,” McKenzie said, opening the fridge and swapping the can in her hands with a beer. “Now it’s your turn.”
I caught the cold white door. “For a snack.”
“I mean why are you staying here?”
I reached in and grabbed a bottle of water, twisting the top off before pushing the door closed with my hip. I didn’t want to tell her the truth because that would take all night. But also because it felt too raw, like pouring hot water on freshly burned skin. Yet there was something about the way she regarded me, her curious green pupils following me without an ounce of judgment. Her head was tilted in concern. Or maybe it was empathy.
“It’s…complicated,” I began, running my hand along the back of my neck, eyes glued to the floor. “I’ve been having a…a hard time. And it got to a point that it was better to not be alone for a while.”
“Oh,” she said, and when I brought my gaze back to hers, I recognized the look of sadness I’d seen there before.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she continued, leaning against the counter, folding her arms over her chest. “I hate when people say that because it sounds ridiculous. So apathetic. But I really am sorry.”
“Thanks,” I said.
She raked her hands down her face. “If I’m being totally honest, I’m having a tough time too. I’m hanging on by a thread right now and having to deal with Caesar might be what causes it to snap.”
I moved to stand beside her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. “Thanks.”
“And if both our lives are shit, we might as well be shitty together,” I said. “I’ll be on your Pictionary team. If you want me to, of course.”
“Seriously?” she asked. “You’d do that?”
I held out my hands. “It’s not like I’ve got a lot else on my schedule.”
“Okay, then,” she said. “But have you met Caesar? Because that dude is a lot. ”
My lips quirked. “So am I.”
She shrugged. “You know what? I’ll take what I can get. You want a beer or anything?”
I shook my head. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Maybe some pregame Advil? A lobotomy?” she asked, backing away toward the direction of the living room.
I trailed behind her. “How annoying is this guy?”
She twisted the cap off her beer and took a swig. “You have no idea.”