The Sinister Silhouette

His lips tighten as his frown deepens. “Why?” he repeats.

That’s the million-dollar question. I don’t know why I want to stay. I should be petrified to be around him, especially alone, and a small part of me is. My brain tells me to get as far away from him as possible, but my instincts tell me I’m safer here than anywhere else. It perplexes me because the fear I should feel toward Luca isn’t there. I still feel like he’s my safe haven. It’s stupid and crazy, I realize, but it feels like this is where I’m supposed to be.

“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I just… I just feel safe here.”

My answer shocks him. It’s in the widening of his eyes and the stiffness of his body.

“Are you sure?”

I don’t need to think about my answer. “Yes.”

After a moment, he gives a jerky nod.

“Thank you.”

He gives another nod before he turns away from me. Both hands run through his hair agitatedly. Something on the back of his arm catches my eye, and I take a closer look. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve noticed Luca’s tattoos, his arms are covered in them so there’s no way I couldn’t, but I’ve never seen this one before. It’s a dandelion in the shape of a heart. The seeds were blowing away in the wind, each one a different color. The words l'amour est gratuit, love is free, are written along the stem. It’s a beautiful piece of art, and I wonder what the meaning behind it is.

When he faces me again, my stomach flips at the stark pain in his eyes. My own pain aside, I can’t imagine what Luca is going through. To be accused of attacking, raping, and causing someone to be in a seven-year coma and not remember a minute of it is something most people wouldn’t be able to handle.

“I’m going outside for a while. There’s chili on the stove. You should eat.”

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 his pain 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 b

ut hate toward Luca, but that’s the last thing I feel.