Page 123 of Mine Again
But it’s his eyes that undo me.
They’re the same warm brown. Deep. Dark. Dangerous. But they don’t offer safety anymore. Not now. Not with the way they hold me in place.
I can’t read him. There’s too much in them. A flicker of pain. Frustration. Longing. Maybe even regret. Or it’s my own stormreflecting back at me.
Luca was always hard to decipher. Cool. Controlled. Careful about what he allowed the world to see.
But today, something cracks through that perfect control.
He looks at me like I’m the beginning and the end of something he can’t name.
“I brought you more clothes.” His voice is quiet, low enough that the wind nearly steals it.
He lifts the backpack off his shoulders and takes out a few pieces of clothing and a pair of boots, holding them up like a peace offering. “They should fit you perfectly.”
I stare at him for a moment, then reach out and take the bundle when he steps closer.Our fingers brush. It’s brief, but the spark is unmistakable.
Only now do I realize how cold I am. The oversized coat has helped, but my bare legs sting with wind chill, my toes are numb, and my skin is tight from the cold.
I sink onto the bench, take off Luca’s shoes and quickly tug on the pants. Oh, they’re soft and lined and blessedly warm. The socks are thick, the shoes a perfect fit. I stare at them for a second, frowning.
“You’ve got your own closet,” Luca says, answering the question I haven’t asked yet. “Right next to mine. The door was closed, which is why you didn’t see it.”
I look up at him, my brows lifting. “I have a closet in your house?”
My tone is sharper than I intend, but I can’t help it. Everything that happened has derailed me.
He nods, unfazed. “Of course. You live here.”
A beat passes.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
Luca doesn’t flinch. “More like… you’re meant to live here. It was always the plan.”
I stare at him.
Meant to?
My stomach twists. Like I’ve stumbled into a version of my lifesomeone else wrote. One where my choices were never mine to begin with. Well, actually they never really were.
How long has he been building this world for me without me in it?
“When did you start planning this?” I whisper.
He looks at me like I’ve gone insane. Or like I’ve forgotten something crucial.
“Since the moment we were torn apart,” he says softly.
The words hit like a gut punch.
And just like that, the memories flood back. The panic in Luca’s voice that night. The way his hand slipped from mine. My meltdown, and the disbelief on my father’s face when he realized Luigi and Luca were gone.
The silence that followed. Days turning into weeks. The carrot of hope dangled on two of my birthdays. Then years of nothing.
I’d searched for answers that never came. Grieved like someone widowed but without a body.
My whole world shattered and kept shattering, piece by piece.
