by Raven Scott
“I mean, it’s not entirely his fault. I was a piece of shit of a human being, but there’s definitely things that we both could’ve done even if it was just ignoring each other. Carlyle kept trying to get me out of the way, but that also meant him forcing me to go places and do shit that I didn’t want to participate in. Maybe, if he accepted that trying to force it would only make it worse, and I accepted that he couldn’t do anything without forcing it. Honestly, who knows. I sure don’t.” Sliding the card in a door, Mateo popped open the barrier, and I followed him in as he continued. His hotel room was sparse, just his bag and his dogs, and he only paused talking to grab it before glancing at me. “If I didn’t decide to leave the hotel rather than jump off the roof, Carlyle wouldn’t bat an eyelash. And that is not someone I think deserves my consideration.”
I badly hid my grimace, and Mateo whistled to his dogs before we left the room just as quickly. My chest tightened, my throat closing at the idea that we could’ve never met. If he’d killed himself, I would’ve never known what it was like to love someone so passionately. Seth and I probably would be married right now, and I’d be miserable.
Because let’s face it, I was totally, unequivocally, desperately head over heels for Mateo, even if neither of us wanted to admit it out loud in as many words.
“I’ve never thought about killing myself. Running away, yeah. A few times, I considered selling my house and hiding.” The strangest sense of guilt washed over me, and I crossed my arms under my best on the way back to the elevator. Mateo lived a horrific life, but because he had money, no one would pity him. How terrible. “Once I moved into my house, my mom would come over three or four times a week and come in and rearrange all my stuff and take down my cringy band posters and all that kind of stuff. I changed the locks and never gave her a key again.”
“You had to deal with Meredith all the time?” Scrunching up my nose in distaste, I ducked my head in a nod, and Mateo shouldered his backpack as I pressed the elevator button. “How’d you do that for so long? Was she always so overbearing?”
“No. She didn’t get bad until after she found out about breaking up when we were in college. I don’t get why. Shouldn’t she be doing the opposite and telling him he could get better or whatever?” Shrugging lightly, I huffed at my own question, and Mateo nodded quietly as he reached to scratch Ketchup’s head. “I mean, there was nothing special about me, and Seth and I didn’t want to be together anymore, so . . . ”
“Maybe, she thought you looked perfect together.” Arching a brow quizzically, I pursed my lips at that, but Mateo’s expression didn’t change even as his eyes narrowed on me. “Appearances count for a lot for some people, and you and Seth did look good together. You’re beautiful, and she could go around telling anyone anything she wanted, and those people would probably never get within ten feet of you. Maybe, it was simple vanity and narcissism— look at my successful lawyer son and his gorgeous wife.”
“Wow, I never thought of it that way, but maybe you’re right.” Was Meredith so concerned with looks that actual happiness didn’t matter? “Considering she made herself look better than me at my wedding to her son, you probably are right, Mateo. That’s probably exactly it.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll never let anyone know you said that.” Smiling at the jibe, I chuffed lightly, and Mateo stuffed his wallet back in his back pocket to wrap his arm around me.
In a flash, we were back in the Lyft he’d ordered, and we left the hotel behind with all of us crammed in the back seat. The driver pulled off the curb, and Sriracha sat on Mateo’s lap while Ketchup took over mine. Leaning my head on his shoulder, I enjoyed the almost catatonic happiness that flooded every cell in my body.
And, hopefully, it’d be this way all the time from now on. Surely, we’d have to deal with the fallout once Meredith gets released, if she hasn’t been already. Seth had mentioned something before leaving about going home and sleeping, and then heading to the police station to bail his mother out.
“I really should buy a car- maybe an SUV, so I can fit all the dogs in it. Once the check clears and I get the house transferred, we’ll do that.” Humming softly in acknowledgment, my mind went to earlier at the real estate office. The senior guy that Mateo had talked to on the phone practically fell over himself with apologies and gave us the lowest the owners were willing to go. He had to call them and get them down here to do the transfer once the check cleared, but all the paperwork had been done. By Monday, Mateo would own the house across the street from me.
The notion was strange, like my house was a she-shed or something stupid by comparison. Not big enough for everyone, my home was just going to be my space, and Mateo would have his space, and we would have our space. We didn’t talk about it, but I knew that’s what he thought the moment I bought it up. There were other houses in the area, but that one . . . I knew he really liked it.
27
Lucy
“I don’t know, Mickey. This seems like overkill.” Mikayla stuck a box of condoms into my cart with a soft hmpf, and I frowned as I snatched it and put it back on the shelf. “Seriously, stop. I’m not gonna guess his size and risk getting it wrong, okay? What makes you think we’re gonna have sex, anyway?”
“You’re sleeping over— of course, you’re going to bang. Okay, it’s been a week since he got his own place, and you two don’t have any more excuses not to.” Rolling my eyes, I trudged my butt toward the tampons as my best friend trailed along after me, dragging her feet dramatically. “Lucy-y-y, come on. It’s almost like you two aren’t physically attracted to each other. You just are, like, soul mates in the head or whatever.”
“That makes no sense.” If I can make it to shampoo and deodorant, we can leave. “Is it so impossible that sex isn’t the main pillar of our relationship?”
“Yes!” Wincing as she hissed in my ear like a snake, I shook my head roughly, and Mikayla flounced around my cart as we turned into the mouthwash aisle. “It is! I know that you two have been through some stuff, okay, but honestly, the guy’s hotter than hot, and you haven’t even kissed him.”
“I did so!” We were trying to keep it down, but the store was absolutely dead at this time of morning; no one was around but employees, and they didn’t care at all. “God, Mickey, you’re making it like we’re sixteen again.”
“Your physical contact with him makes you seem like you’re sixteen again. It’s like you’re . . . ” She finally shut up, and Mikayla’s face twisted into cautious concern, but I ignored it to grab a bottle off the shelf. “Are you afraid, Lucy?”
“What?” I dropped the blue bottle as surprise jolted through my veins, but the thick plastic stopped it from exploding when it landed right smack on the floor. My head whipped up, and Mikayla frowned as she licked her lips heavily. “Why would I be afraid?”
“Because, you know, his back. I know that you feel guilty about it, and that you haven’t seen it, yet. It’s not easy to look at, Lucy.” My eyes widened, and Mikayla’s tone lowered as she shuffled along the length of my half-full cart. She was right— Mikayla did see Mateo’s back, and I hadn’t. I wasn’t afraid to see it, and I was not guilty, and I bent down slowly to grab the bottle of mouthwash and toss it in the cart.
“You’re looking too deep into it, Mikayla. Mateo and I haven’t screwed around yet because, hello, there are more important things than sex, damnit! And you’re right- there’s no excuses because they weren’t excuses in the first place. Believe it or not, but I’m more than capable of managing my relationship without my sex life being micromanaged!” I trembled with anger as my voice rose higher and louder, and Mikayla stepped back as I smacked the handlebar of the cart. “And for the record, I know what Mateo’s back looks like. I was there when it got like that! I don’t need you to try to tell me it’s ‘not easy to look at’ now! Fuck!”
Blurting out the slur, I stormed down the aisle and left Mikayla at the other end, and my face burned. What the Hell was wrong with her? Did she forget that I
was literally inches away from that whip every time it flayed open Mateo’s skin? What did she think I did when he was passed out for hours at a time? Turning my cart with a wretched screech, I snatched a three-pack bars of soap off the shelf and kept on stomping to the shampoo aisle.
Mikayla had no right to be judgmental about Mateo and I being a little less than frisky. That went without saying. She didn’t understand what we’d been through, so who was she to comment on Mateo’s back.
Really, the shame here was that Mikayla was my ride home, and we were communal shopping— or, at least, we were supposed to be. All she could talk about was Mateo inviting me over tonight, and that in itself wasn’t the issue. The problem was she didn’t stop when I asked her to, and then she really, truly, asked me if I was afraid of because Mateo’s back was all mangled.
I knew what it looked like. More importantly, I knew that it was supposed to be on me, not him.
I turned into the shampoo aisle and kept turning my cart until it slammed into the rack, and my lungs screamed for air. When was the last time I breathed? I didn’t know, and the whole shelf tipped dangerously back and forth with an ominous clatter. Bottles fell off shelves and exploded, and black spots assaulted my vision as my knees gave out from beneath me.
It was supposed to be me.
Blinking hard, I wheezed pathetic, useless rasps, and my heart pounded dangerously as I struggled to get ahold of myself. Squeezing my eyes shut, I held my chest to keep my heart from busting through my ribs and craned my neck in an effort to breathe. All I saw behind my eyes was Mateo’s back, his skin hanging off in strips, and the phantom scent of blood and concrete coated the inside of my nose.
Why was everyone so judgmental? Even when everything was perfect, people still had terrible things to say? Mikayla wasn’t trying to be mean, but she didn’t just accept the fact that she couldn’t understand, either. Her opinions mattered to me, but there was a time when she needed to know not to voice them.
Laying down on the floor, I gulped down the dense lump in my throat and gasped for breath, and shivers raked my spine violently. My mind didn’t slow down even as my heart stabilized, and I cracked my eyes open to find bleary figures standing over me. Somehow, I managed to push myself to my feet, and I ran my hands up my teary face and into my hair.
“Get off me! Don’t touch me!” Snapping viciously at the multitude of people trying to grab at me, I stumbled a little at the force of my own voice. Heaving shallow breaths, I grabbed my cart as the employees held their hands up, all women, all worried but not pushing me. Two men stood at the lip of the aisle, and I shoved my cart down to start grabbing open bottles of shampoo and throwing them into the bed.
I could feel Mikayla staring at me, and my lip curled in a snarl as I got down to scrape splattered shampoo off the linoleum. Goosebumps blanketed my arms and under my tank top, and my jeans felt too tight as my body gorged on a cacophony of raging emotions.
Realization struck me— I didn’t have anywhere to put this goop, and I glanced around through wide, dazed eyes. I only had a wallet, not a purse, and my hands tingled as I started stuffing jean pockets with shampoo. There wasn’t a lot, only a few bottles burst, not even half a dozen, and the splattering hadn’t been too bad.
God, there were a lot of quarter-sized pools of shampoo, and I had to lay down to reach under the shelves to get the dime-sized ones with my nails. Dirt and other crap that was swept under the rack clung to my fingernails and palms, and my stomach heaved threateningly.
Once again, I hoisted myself up onto my feet, holding my hands out for balance so I didn’t accidentally touch my clothes or face. Shampoo seeped through my pockets and out the top, and I rubbed my hands viciously on my jeans. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the employees hovering, and she tensed when I turned to her.
“Where’s the bathroom?” Rasping my question, I spread my fingers wide by my sides, and she just looked to this older woman near the lip of the aisle. She gestured me over with a small wave, and my body moved before my brain caught up with it. Everything spun around me, and I doubled over to gag viciously. My lunch came spewing out of my mouth, and horrified squeals droned in my ear as if they were coming through a tunnel.
Gripping the shelf to my right, I arched sharply as my stomach turned inside out, and bile burned my throat. Weakness assaulted every muscle in my body, and my head became light as I spit on the floor. Groaning hoarsely, I blinked hard and stepped around my mess to trudge over to the lady.
“I’ll . . . I’ll clean th-that.”
28
Mateo
Sriracha huffed and puffed a few seconds before the doorbell sung, and I tore myself away from the stove to walk to the front door. Lucy was earlier than I expected, which was still an hour before the time we set- but I honestly didn’t mind. Cracking open the barrier, I smiled at her, and she grinned outright before stepping through the threshold.
“It smells nice in here.” Affection bombarded my chest and crowded my heart at the excitement lightening Lucy’s tone. Shutting us inside my house, I wrapped my arms around her waist to draw her to me, and she sighed softly. “I know I’m super early. I had . . . I guess I had an . . . an episode . . . at the store.”
“An episode? What happened?” At the sound of Lucy’s voice, Ketchup came bounding into the house from the open back door, but I barely noticed the flash of gray. She didn’t answer immediately, instead heading into the kitchen to sit on one of the stools she’d picked out at the island. Her hair was slightly darker, slightly damp, and my brows furrowed in concern when she rested her cheek on the tiled surface.
“Mikayla said your back isn’t easy to look at . . . and I just sort of imploded, I guess.” Stiffening at her murmur, I paused across from her on the way to the stove, and she slumped a little. “She was goofing around about me sleeping over, and sex, and whatever, and then she asked me if I was afraid because we’re not really physical.”
Disbelief numbed my face, and the smell of chicken parm stung my tongue as it stuck to the roof of my mouth. Lucy sort of grimaced in discomfort, and blood drummed loudly in my ears before she opened her mouth again.
“I accidentally pushed my cart into the shampoo, and . . . I don’t know what happened. I started wiping the shampoo off the floor with my hands and shoving it in my pockets. Then, I threw up everywhere. I’m honestly surprised no one called 9-1-1.” Clenching my jaw hard, I shuffled to the stove to stare at the water droplets streaming down the glass lid. “The ride home was super awkward. She drove me there, and I didn’t want to get a Lyft and put all my stuff in and then take it all out and put it all away.”
“I have no idea how to react to that. Has this happened before?” Glancing over my shoulder to watch her shake her head, my eyelid twitched in agitation, and the scars on my back pulled tight when I inhaled deeply. “Is it about the sex, or my back, or that she was judging you on something she didn’t understand?”
“All of it? When I told her to stop talking about it, she didn’t. I don’t know. She just pushed and pushed, and then told me I felt guilty and asked if I was afraid, and I just . . . snapped. I’m not guilty, and I’m not afraid, and frankly, I wouldn’t say ‘excited’ is a good word. Or ‘eager’.” I exhaled slowly as I quietly, descended on the kitchen, and I pulled the top off the pan to get blasted with heat and the smell of chicken and cheese and sauce. It didn’t distract me, but I knew that was a disservice to Lucy, and she rested her chin on her forearms when I looked back. “That smells really good.”
“Hopefully, it will be.” It hurt to talk. My jaw hurt, my whole face hurt from the tension that gripped my bones. “I didn’t invite you over for sex, Lucy.”
“I know.” That simple answer was followed by one she didn’t say— but we’re going to, anyway. The whole point of tonight was romance; I made one of the only things I knew how to make without burning Which was ironically an Italian dish. I had some moderately expensive wine, again, and Italian wine, and a box of condoms.
Hell, I even did the whole flower petal thing at the top of the stairs. I spent a few days hashing out the details of tonight, and it’d been terrorized before it even started.
“What about you, Mateo? How’s the dogs liking the backyard?” The cheese wasn’t even melted, yet, and I put the lid back on the pan to turn to Lucy. She wore a little, pale purple dress with capped shoulders, and thin lines of charcoal accentuated her big, blue eyes. Sitting up to stretch her arms along the island, she flipped her curls against her back with a jerk of her head, and I walked over to lean on my forearms on the tiles.
“Ketchup won’t come back inside, and Sriracha won’t leave the doorway because it’s open. I think he likes the breeze.” She smiled as she looked that way, and I reached to caress the back of her hand gingerly. Honestly, I was at a loss, and the silence was only breached by the muted sizzling in the pan behind us. Lucy tangled our fingers between my own, and I clenched my jaw against the stiffness burrowed deep between my shoulder blades. “Do you want to eat out back?”
Those big, blue eyes met mine to brighten in interest, and my mouth dried at how beautiful Lucy is. I couldn’t stop myself- couldn’t even process it as I grabbed her face and kissed her, and her little squeak of surprise clogged my throat. Long, nimble fingers tangled in my hair, and I cupped the back of her head as I shuffled closer. Her soft lips parted for me as heat rampaged through my chest, and a cold sweat broke out under my shirt.
Long legs wrapped around my waist to draw me closer, and my heart fluttered as I snuck my tongue past Lucy’s teeth. Her own touched mine tentatively, but the passion in our kiss blew all hesitancy away. Picking her up off the stool, I pinned her to the wall opposite to brace my forearm above her head. Our kiss deepened as fire boiled my blood, and Lucy moaned softly as she wound her arms around my neck to fist my shirt.