Page 64 of Weaponized

I sit up slowly and my head hurts. I’m hung over. Yesterday, we ran out of whiskey and my dickhead brother refuses to buy more.

“I’m going to go heat up some of the stuff that Mrs. B dropped off. Wash up and then we can eat. I can’t deal with you like this.”

Nice. Good to know I have his support. I groan and drag myself to the bathroom. I open the medicine cabinet and swallow down four Advil. I pop a couple Tums in my mouth while I’m at it. I turn on the shower, making the water as hot as I can stand.

As I get under the scorching spray, it all comes rushing back. She never cared about me at all. We talked about honesty, trust. She said she loved me. I told her my deepest secrets. She kissed my scars. I didn’t see any sign that she was lying to me. It all felt so fuckingreal. I feel like a total failure. I wasn’t smart enough to see it. I wanted her so badly. Loved her with every part of my soul. And, the worst part is, I miss her. Her smile. Our conversations. Her laughter. The sex. It’s all one big clusterfuck in my mind, and I’m so pissed that I still have any longing for her at all. But I can’t deny that I do. She was my happiness. And now, she’s gone.

I finally make my way downstairs and see Anthony sitting at the counter, shoveling some sort of casserole in his mouth. He stops immediately when he sees me. “Hey, Luca.” His voice is tentative.

Matteo walks around the corner and points to a seat next to Ant. “Sit.”

I don’t argue. He pulls a dish out of the microwave and places it in front of me. “Chicken tetrazzini.” He then proceeds to fill a big glass with water from a pitcher in our fridge. “Eat. Hydrate.”

I do. I start to shovel in the food. My stomach roils, so I slow down. Nothing but whiskey for a few days will do that I guess.

“It’s Friday,” Matteo informs me. “You’ve missed all your classes this week. I told all your professors you have the flu.”

I grunt. I don’t have a single fuck to give about my classes. Then, I remember the class I have with Gráinne, and I drop my fork. The food isn’t sitting well.

“She hasn’t been in class either,” my brother informs me, as if he knows I was just thinking about her. “Must have the same flu.” I don’t respond. I don’t want to care where she’s been. Or who she’s been with. Fuck. Who she’s been with. I can only imagine how pathetic I look because I catch Anthony’s eye and he’s got nothing but pity for me right now. His normal happy expression is nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Gianni?” I ask gruffly. He doesn’t live here, so I don’t know why I expect to see him. I kinda feel like an asshole for how I treated him when he was right about Gráinne all along.

“Yeah, I’d like to know that myself. Keeps texting me excuses about why he can’t get together. There’s shit I need to sort with him.” My brother’s annoyance is clear.

“He thought she set up his family,” I say quietly. I can’t say her name out loud.

“Yeah, I heard that theory,” Matt mumbles.

I keep quiet. I need to explore that “theory.” It’s not like I can just dismiss that the Irish are obviously after something, not with all the evidence against my little liar. I’m not sure if I should start by finding Rowan and beating the truth out of him, or if I should help look for Gianni, who may know more than he shared. My head stays bent over my plate as I think about my next step.The food’s smell finally starts to nauseate me, and I push away from the counter.

“You gonna finish that?” Anthony is reaching for my plate. Matteo cuffs him upside the head. “What? It’s good. Mrs. B can cook.”

Good to know some things never change. I close my eyes.

“Maybe you could call Gianni. See ifyoucan get him to come over here,” Matt suggests.

“Why?” I know why I want to question him, but I have no idea what Matteo is thinking.

“Like I said, I have some stuff I want to sort with him.”

“What stuff?” I ask wearily.

Matteo sighs. “I wasn’t here when he told you everything. Anthony relayed it to me, but I want to talk to Gianni directly.”

My face burns with embarrassment. Hearing it once wasn’t enough for him? I don’t need him looking into things for me. I can do it myself. I’m the one who fucked up.

“Drop it,” I tell him tersely.

“Can’t,” he throws back.

“Why the fuck not? How am I supposed to move on if you won’t let it die?” I don’t need him reminding me of my failure.

“Is that what this is?” My brother motions to me. “You moving on?”

“Fuck you, Matt.” I stand up.

“Something’s off,” my brother states flatly. I flinch, and Anthony stills with the fork halfway to his mouth.

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