Page 13 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

I come to a stand beside her. Pissed—at myself, at her for forcing this conversation—I storm into the bedroom. Throwing some clothes and other shit into a bag, I don't give myself a chance to take in our home, because I'll never leave otherwise.

She's everywhere, and since I never properly moved in, it's more her space than mine.

"Mateo?" she cries, voice trembling with fear. The box of secrets I should have kept closed is cracking open, and I can see her trying to sift through the pieces, to analyze and understand what's going on with me while she follows me to the door.

"Mi corazón. My heart. I love you," I say quietly. I want to kiss her goodbye. To tell her this is just a bump in the road, reassure myself that I'm not making the biggest mistake of my life by giving her space instead of admitting to my darkness.

I don't do any of those things. I leave as fast as I arrived.

Chapter 5

Silas

Noah and I stare at each other, then down the hall, then back at each other, wondering if we just hallucinated Matty storming into the apartment, down the hall, and into his old bedroom without a word.

The game on the screen makes a loud explosion, kicking my avatar back into the lobby. Tossing the controller on the coffee table, I wait a few minutes to see if Matty returns, but, of course, he doesn't. Classic.

Noah's the sensitive one. I should leave it to him to find out what in the hell is going on.

But I've got a soft spot for Mateo. The little fucker is always so dramatic. Like that time he moved out after we'd lived together for nearly fifteen years without so much as a heads up.

Didn't tell us why. One day he lived here. The next day he didn't.

We confronted him at his office, demanding explanations, and he just shrugged, said he got a new apartment.

See? Dramatic. He thinks being the strong, silent type means he's chill. Man's got zero chill.

We hang out and grab drinks after work, and Noah and I bug him to meet for lunch sometimes, so we still see him all the time, but he pretends everything is normal and his personality didn't do a one-fucking-eighty.

Well, that's not entirely true. He's still a moody bitch.

But he no longer visits Atrium, a place we practically lived for the last few years since some friends from college opened it up. And he seemed… dare I say, happy? He doesn't smile or anything, but I catch him with softer expressions here and there, and that's a lot.

"Did that just happen?" Noah muses.

"Should we go see if baby brother's okay?"

Noah snorts, dropping his controller on the coffee table next to mine, and I follow him down the hall. As suspected, Matty's in his old room, which sits exactly how he left it a couple of months ago, minus all his clothes and shit. Concern hits me, seeing my bestie sitting on the edge of his bed, head in hands, a bag full of clothes beside him.

"Mateo, what happened?" Noah asks.

"Bro," I kick his shin, much less cautious than Noah. Matty looks up and I almost take a step back. He looks… fucked.

Weirded out, I slowly sit beside him, pushing his bag out of the way. "You moving back in?"

"No," he snaps. Then amends, "Maybe. I don't know."

I snort, "Thanks man, we love you too."

"What happened?" Noah asks again.

Matty sighs. "I need a drink. Then I need to tell you something."

Noah and I glance at each other nervously, following Matty back out of his room to the kitchen. He pulls out a bottle from the bar, the one we save for special occasions, pouring the small batch bourbon into three glasses.

Noah and I reach out to grab ours, but he's already downed the first sip before he's pouring another. Shit, this doesn't seem good.

Then he blurts out, "I'm in love with someone. I live with her now. She doesn't know about you two. Or…Atrium," he adds slowly.

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