Page 2 of Quake

I flick on my lamp, illuminating my studio apartment, which looks like I live with thirty unruly house guests and not just the golden retriever mix I adopted at Pawsitively Purrfect. Thankfully, Pickles is with Kat and Ale this weekend because they requested a playdate at their apartment. Something about their pit bull, Tank, bonding with Pickles or something. I’m not really sure. I miss the damn dog though. Some days, she seems to be the only reason I bother waking upat all.

Taking another look around the apartment, I cringe with self-loathing.Who fucking lives like this?I need to hire someone to come clean this mess up. These days, I just have no will to do anything. It’s already a chore to get up, feed myself, work out, and make sure Pickles gets taken care of. Cleaning my apartment is just entirely too much work right now.

I get up, stopping at my dresser to grab a set of clean clothes and head to the shower to get washed up before hopping in the car to stop for some items my mom requested. She said she needed some WD-40 for her wheelchair because the wheels were sticking again.

An hour and a half later, I’m approaching the large brownstone home that I grew up in. I make my way inside, greeting everyone as I pass through, heading over to find Mom in the kitchen. When she sees me, she wheels over. “There’s my handsome boy,” she says solemnly. “Come give your momma a hug.” I do as I'm told, realizing by the tone of her voice that I let my mask slip. Righting myself, I plaster a fake smile across my face, but the knowing look she gives me confirms that it never meets my eyes.

“Hey, Mom, I got the grease for your wheels so you can continue running over unsuspecting bystanders.” I grab the WD-40 from the bag and kneel beside her, spraying the hinges and coating each one.

“Thank you, sweet boy. Now, what’s got you so down today?” She’s unlikely to let it go unless I give her an explanation. She probably won’t believe anything I say, rightfully so, but I have to attempt to appease her anyway. If not for her, then for whatever's left of my sanity.

“I just missed Pickles this weekend while she’s been with Ale and Kat, and training starts up in a couple of weeks, and I’m not super excited to have Damien on our team this year.” None of that was a lie, but it isn’t the reason for my perpetual shit moods.

“Ah, Damien is a real piece of work, but your teammates have your back. Don’t let it get to you,” she says in a reassuring tone, reaching out to squeeze my hand. Mom smiles sweetly at me in that gentle way that reminds me just how fragile she thinks I am.

I give her a nod, standing and putting the cap on the WD-40, placing it under the sink for her to use next time she needs it. Before she can continue to pry, I head out of the kitchen as quickly as I can, looking to hide out on the back patio despite the frigid temperatures outside.

On my way to the back, I see Dante sprawled out on the couch watching some children’s show while he holds Lily across his chest. He looks up at me and quietly says, “Hey, kid, the boys missed you at their game last week.”

My face automatically contorts. I know he doesn’t mean to make me feel bad. He’s just letting me know they care, but it makes me feel like shit all the same. IwishI could have been there too,but I just couldn’t drag myself out of bed, let alone my apartment. The entire week—hell, the last month—has been a royal shit show. I give him a noncommittal grunt. “Yeah, I wish I could’ve made it too. Next time though,” I say, but we both know I’m lying.

It’s getting more and more difficult to hide how fucking exhausted I am all the damn time.

No amount of sleep seems to improve the bone-deep exhaustion that's settled into my soul since losing Alex, and that thought alone has an uncomfortable weight settling in the pit of my stomach.

“The boys are with Arielle at the grocery store. Charlie and Rose will be here shortly, and Kat and Ale are headed over with Pickles and Tank,” Dante tells me as I make a move to head outside.

“Cool, I’ll be out back if anyone needs me.”God, I hope no one needs me.

The cool air hits my face, and a chill quakes through my body, making me shiver. I love the cold. It helps clear my head, and the crisp air makes it easier to breathe, but there’s no denying that emotionally, I feel worse in the winter months.

I take a seat in the old metal chair with the chipped white paint and rust forming. I’m facing away from the house, overlooking the fenced-in yard, as I pull out my phone, pop my earbuds in, and press play on my audiobook. The book’s about someone who gets trapped in a dystopian video game, and while none of it makes any sense, it’s enough chaos to act as a distraction.

I allow myself to get lost in the chasm of this new world being built by the author, and about thirty minutes later, the sliding door behind me opens, letting a rush of heat burst out. I hear children shouting in the background, which means Alessandro and Kat have just arrived. The kids love Ale. He’s clearly theirfavorite uncle, and I can’t fault them. Luca is an ass, and I’m just a downer. I’d pick Ale over me too.

“Hey there.” Kat’s cheerful voice greets me as I turn my head toward her. “I’ve got a cute little lady ready to see you.”

I hear a high-pitched whine and see Pickles trying to make her way through Kat’s legs before she finally opens the door wide and lets her out to tackle me. She’s a big girl, but she doesn’t know it. Pickles hops directly in my lap, giving me kisses before spinning and plopping down on my legs.

My fingers twine into her soft fur, and I focus my attention behind her ears, giving her scratches in her favorite spot. I bend to kiss the top of her head, my mouth stretching with the first, albeit small, but genuine smile I’ve had in weeks. “Hi, pretty girl. Did you miss your daddy?”

She perks up, licking at my face again to confirm that she has missed me. I turn to Kat, who's now seated in the chair beside me with her knees tucked under her chin.

“Thanks for socializing her. What’d you guys do while she was there?” I ask because I really do care, but also because Kat is one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet, and she’s also the only one who doesn’t look at me with pity.

“We took them to the dog park. She got covered in mud, though, and I’m pretty sure icicles were literally forming on her fur,” Kat says, letting out a little snort. “So we took her to Pet Kingdom to get groomed, which is where she got that super cute bandana she’s wearing.” Kat points to Pickles, where a pink bandana with little dancing pickles is tied around her neck. “Oh, they also did a couple of feeding puzzles and…” She trails off, looking away sheepishly, and the guilty look in her eyes has my stomach fluttering withbutterflies. “So…” she says, dragging out the word. “I went down an internet rabbit hole and found that there’s a place called ‘Rocket Dog’ that offers classes like rally, rodeo, and agility. So I signed Pickles and Tank up for a tricks-for-treats class.”

My eyes widen with alarm, but again, she continues. “Don’t worry, though, it was super cheap.”That wasn’t my concern at all.“And I already have it worked out with Kas for him to take Pickles if you can’t make it. He really doesn’t mind,” she promises, wrapping her arms around her drawn-up knees and clasping her hands together. “I would’ve waited to confirm with you, but there were only two spots available in the class, and I didn’t want it to sell out!” She sucks in a breath for what seems like the first time since she started speaking.

She’s cute enough to get away with murder, so I don’t particularly mind the rambling, but the content of her thoughts is a tad disconcerting.

I look away from her for a moment, closing my eyes briefly and sucking in a deep breath. I blow it out slowly, focusing on calming my pounding heart before answering her. “Thanks for taking such good care of Pickles. I’m sure she’ll really like the classes.”

She gives me a small smile that crinkles the edges of her honey-brown eyes.

As the silence stretches, my heart begins to hammer against my ribs. I try to focus on anything other than that feeling.

I glance over and take note of her outfit, providing my racing thoughts with something less ominous to focus on.

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