Page 49 of Bad Pucking Roommate

Justus is silent after that, his breathing so slow and even, I think he’s fallen asleep. Right before I drift off myself, I hear a muffled thank you. And even though I know his heart is breaking, my own soars a little when I feel him nuzzle closer.

Chapter eighteen

Justus

After spending a mostly sleepless night in Luca’s arms, he drops me at my apartment before the game so I can pack for the funeral.

At this point I haven’t been home in just over a week, which shouldn’t be unusual given my typical travel schedule, but the space feels foreign after I’d gotten so comfortable at Luca’s. I tease the guy about his expensive taste, but I’ve never slept in a more luxurious bed, and I may have confiscated a pair–or three–of his underwear because I’ve gotten used to the soft material against my skin. Mine just don’t feel right anymore.

But what bothers me most, right now, is how cold the space feels. How lonely it is. Not that Luca’s place is warm and cozy—it’s too big and spread out—but I didn’t feel alone there. Even when he was out of town.

I think his presence stayed with me, even with him hundreds of miles away, since we’ve been spending time there together. I never felt isolated. Looking around my sparsely furnished place it seems utilitarian. Devoid of happiness. Sort of like my mood.

I can’t believe he’s gone.

Logically, I knew this day was coming. He’d been sick for years, probably even longer than we realized since we didn’t know the symptoms to look for, and he was too stubborn to see a doctor when Mom first suggested it. Once we had a diagnosis, things seemed to go downhill faster than the speed of light.

I’m sure part of that was the disease, but there’s no doubt in my mind part of it was the loss of his independence. That man didnotsit still well, and he never procrastinated when there was work to be done. It’s one of the things I admired most about him, and I’d like to think it rubbed off on me in terms of my work ethic.

Speaking of things that shouldn’t be put off…

I open the fridge, wincing at the unappetizing fur on the food inside. Grabbing a trash bag, I dispose of the things that would give me food poisoning on top of my concussion, then decide to purge everything not frozen or in a box since I’ll be gone at least three more days. Once that’s done, I pack my bag, tucking the stolen briefs in on a sudden whim.

It’s stupid, and possibly creepy, but aside from loving the soft material I like the idea of having something of Luca’s with me. If I had anything other than his underwear, I’d take that, but since I didn’t help myself to anything else of his, this will have to do.

I finish in plenty of time to catch the Bulldogs game, but I can’t bring myself to turn it on, and not because I can’t look at screens. I have a feeling that despite the incredibly satisfying, intimate moment Luca and I shared as part of his pre-game ritual last night, he’s going to be off tonight. How could he not be, when my restless tears kept him up until the early morning hours.

I feel bad not supporting him and the rest of the team, but I just can’t stomach adding the guilt of him playing poorly on top of thevoid I already have in my chest from knowing my grandpa isn’t here anymore.

So, instead of listening to the game, I stretch out on the couch, pop in my Airpods and pull up the audiobook I started yesterday while Luca was at practice. I let myself picture the battlefield the Demon King and his evil uncle are preparing to do battle on, but I must doze off because the next thing I know the battle is over, and the king’s best friend, who was on a secret mission to find the stone giving the uncle eternal life, is now missing.

I have no idea how far I’d have to backtrack to hear the parts I missed, and since I’m so emotionally drained, I have a feeling I’d just fall asleep again if I start over. For lack of anything else to do, I look up the ticket Luca helped me purchase this morning since he didn’t want me looking at my phone too long. I need to find out what time to get up and call an Uber, and I figure I’ll set my alarm before I forget. Only my United app shows no tickets. I check Delta, American and Southwest, just in case I got the airline wrong, but neither of those accounts shows a flight either.

Staring at my phone, I can’t decide whether to laugh or scream or cry when it suddenly vibrates with an incoming call, startling me so bad I drop it. Fumbling around with shaky fingers, I search for it, desperate to answer it before it goes to voicemail.

“Hello?” I clear my throat.

“Buzz me in.”

“Luca?” I ask.

“Seriously, it’s cold as fuck outside and I’ve been ringing your apartment for at least ten minutes. I’m pretty sure some lady with a small yappy dog thinks I’m casing the place. Hurry up.”

None of what he’s saying makes sense, but I get up and buzz him into the lobby, cracking the front door open so he can come right inside when he gets to my floor, then go back to the couch.

“What the hell?” he exclaims with a perturbed look as he pushes inside, dropping a takeout bag on the coffee table and tossing his coat on an adjacent chair. “Why didn’t you let me in? Another minute, I’d be a eunuch.”

“I didn’t hear the buzzer. I was listening to a book.”

“Not the game?” His face falls, making me feel even more pathetic.

“Sorry, I just—”

“It’s okay.” He sits next to me and rests his large palm on my thigh. “I’m sure the idea of hockey is kind of hard to stomach right now.”

A weight I didn’t know I’d been carrying seems to dissipate slightly. “How’d it go?”

“Tie game.” He squeezes my leg then rests his hand on his own thigh. “How are you doing?”

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