Page 73 of Haunted

And with that, he walks away, leaving me alone in more ways than one.

IT’S LATE BY THE time he comes back in. I went to the kitchen when he left, made myself a bowl of chili, and ate it at the kitchen table. Unsure of what to do after I finished, I went to the living room, where I made myself comfortable on the couch and waited for him to return. I know he has things to work out in his head, but I hate being left alone. I hate even more that he was wherever, doing whatever he was doing, alone himself. I’m sure his conscience was eating him alive.

That was hours ago. I’m still sitting on the couch, a blanket thrown over my lap, the only light in the room coming from the kitchen.

Luca immediately notices me when he walks through the back door.

“What are you doing sitting in the dark?” he asks gruffly.

I shrug and run my hands over the small blanket. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Guilt passes over his face and that’s the last thing I want him to feel. I know he already carries enough. No matter what’s happened in the past, he came to my rescue today, and for that, I’m grateful.

I slide my feet to the floor and get up. “Would you like me to make you a bowl of chili?” I feel restless and need something to do.

“No,” he grunts.

“Okay.” I look down at my clasped hands, stupidly feeling rejected by his answer. It’s a freaking bowl of chili.

“Jules, I—”

My head snaps up when he starts talking, knowing what he’s going to say, and I hold my hand up to stop him.

“Please.” My voice cracks. “Just don’t. I don’t remember and neither do you. I’d prefer to pretend like Theo never said what he did.”

“How can you simply ignore what he said? What I did….” he trails off, baring his teeth. “That’s not something you should ignore. How in the fuck can you stomach being around me? Why in the hell aren’t you running screaming? Fuck, Jules, I rap—”

“Stop!” I yell and hold up my hand. I’m not sure I can take him rehashing what Theo threw at us earlier. “Please, just stop, okay?” I beg in a low voice.

His expression turns tortured, and I can practically feel hispain radiating off his body and into mine. His heartache becomes my own, and it leaves me even more confused than I was before. Maybe I don’t hold the fear and pain I should feel because I don’t remember the event, even if something in the back of my head niggles at me. Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to believe it. No matter the reason, it’s apparent Luca is really struggling more than me, and that knowledge bothers me more than what he was accused of in the first place.

His eyes track me as I walk over to him, his jaw tensing the closer I get. I tip my head back once I’m standing in front of him. His unique spicy scent drifts around me, warming me from the inside out. It’s been this way since I realized it was him that was visiting me at night in the hospital while I was sleeping. The light from the kitchen is behind him, so he’s left in shadows, but I still see him well enough to notice the dusky scruff covering his face. Tingles form in my belly, and I should be disgusted with myself and ashamed when, not for the first time, I feel an erotic link between us. I’ve seen the way he looks at me, so I know he feels the same. I wish I was brave enough to reach out and slide my fingertips across the light dusting on his face, just to see what it feels like.

There are so many circumstances that should prevent me from feeling anything but hate toward Luca, but that’s the last thing I feel.

“I wanted to thank you for standing up for me against Theo. I know it can’t be easy because he’s your brother.”

This close, even in the dim light, I see the irises in his electric blue eyes swallow up the black pupils, making his eyes look even more stunning.

“My brother is a fucking idiot,” he rumbles softly.

I nod my agreement.

We stand there, just staring at each other, both deep in thought. I break our stare, unable to hold his remorseful one anylonger. It’s then that I spot the dried blood on his hand. A sharp breath leaves my lips and tears prick the back of my eyes as I reach for his hand and bring it closer to my face.

“What did you do?” I ask, unable to hold back the worry in my voice.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles.

With the low lighting, I can’t see the full damage, so I grip his wrist and tug him to the kitchen and over to the sink. When I get a good look, my heart fractures at the mangled mess of his knuckles.

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

When he doesn’t answer right away, I glance up. His eyes search mine, something dark playing along the edges.

“Luca?”

He clears his throat. “Under the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

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