Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
We have a past, but we also don’t.
Maybe that’s why it was so personal from the first second I met Luca. I’m not going to call it easy, but it was like meeting that special friend who was going to be monumental in your life and knowing it immediately because your heart and soul recognized it before your brain ever caught up.
“I’ve swallowed a lot of pride these past years,” Luca says before he takes another bite. He chews slowly, like the pizza is really that good. I haven’t tried it yet, but I doubt pepperoni and cheese are exotic tastes. “Life opened up my mouth and poured itself in so I couldn’t help but swallow or choke and die.”
“That’s a very horror movie image.”
“Alright, I’m no stranger to swallowing and… oh, good god.”
He cuts himself off, struggling not to laugh. I have to angle away so I’m looking at the window and not him, or I’m going to make that wild sort of laughter that bursts out without warning and ends up in tears and snorting.
“You were thinking about making amends. I hear you. That’s very noble,” I say.
“I don’t want to have a hard heart. I’m a different person, and I live alone, but I’ve never tried to become an ogre. I just didn’t know what else to do. Even back when I was working at my restaurants, I was notoriously soft-hearted. Maybe too much.”
“That’s the thing about being kind. People take advantage, or they try to take it all for themselves, and it’s exhausting. It’s harder to maintain goodness than anything else,” I say with a sigh.
“You had good vibes. You might have created a dishonest situation, but I don’t think everything you said and did was a lie.”
I spin around, gaping at him. Kindness wasn’t something I figured would be on the menu today. I was fully prepared for a seven-course meal of retribution. “It wasn’t. At all. It was all a big lead-up to getting there. Lies to try and tell you the truth. And yes, I know we’ve been over that. I do know how stupid and wrong it is. I’d apologize again, but I know sorry doesn’t fix anything.”
He’s eaten everything but the crust. Watching him nibble it is another special brand of hell. Also? What. The. Fuck. Right. Now. Ovaries?
“What am I going to do?” He takes a bite, chews, and studies me so intently that my drowning is official. Drowning in his eyes. In him. In sensation. “Not accept your apology and spend another twenty-some years regretting it? That would be the ultimate stupidity, wouldn’t it?”
“You can still go back and see my dad without forgiving me,” I point out.
Whatever he’s about to say in reply is suddenly cut off by an ungodly scream from outside.
I whip around and rush to the closest window. I grasp the edge of the sink and lean in to get a better view of the front yard. It was sunny just a few minutes ago, but everything is grey now. From what I can see beyond the overhang of the porch, the sky is completely leaden. The trees are twisting and bending at funny angles as gusts of wind scream through them.
Thank goodness that seems to have been the terrible sound, not mountain lions or something.
Or bears.
Or wolves.
Or werebearwolves.
“Holy banana cream pies, why is it getting so windy out there?”
“Probably a freak storm blowing up. It happens out here,” he answers as he finishes the pizza crust, seemingly completely unbothered that said freak storm looks like it’s gearing up to annihilate us out here. “The pizza’s pretty good, actually. I give it a solid six, but it gets another two points for being fucking massive.”
Another gust of wind practically rocks the cabin as it hits. I grasp the sink and counter a little bit tighter, like that could actually save me. “It sounds like it’s going to blow this place right off its foundation. Wait. This does have a foundation, doesn’t it?”
That’s as much as I get out before the rain lets loose. Torrentially. It beats against the roof and washes down the side windows of the cabin so hard that I can’t see anything past the bubbling, frothing mass of it. The only window that has any kind of view is this one, but all I can see is the porch and the wall of water coming straight down off the overhang. It looks like rapids. This is the kind of rain that could soak a yard in minutes. The kind that could literally cause flash flooding.
In here, it’s perfectly dry, and the roof doesn’t have any leaks. So far.
I turn away from the window and meet Luca’s gaze again. He studies me. I stare back. We’re probably being weird right now, but I think we’ve both come to the same realization. Until this storm stops, we’re basically stuck in here.