Page 51 of The Silence Lies

Gone is his hard exterior, the one that tore me a new one just a few weeks ago. His walls are no longer pristine and impenetrable. He’s softer, lighter, damaged. I want to look away, yet his presence demands me to look at him. I fight it as much as I can, but when he pinches my chin between his finger and thumb and tilts my head up, I’m a goner. “I thought I’d lost you.”

The revelation short circuits my brain because now I know I’m not imagining things. The moment between us lingers in the air, suspended by breathless anticipation. Luca’s thumb brushes over my busted lip, his eyes tracking the movement. If ever there was a moment full of so much clarity on what I’m meant to do in this situation, this is not it.

The words hit me full force, and as though Luca can read my mind he speaks up.

“I want to hate you,” he growls. “I want to blame you for everything.” His words are honest, breaking me in two unintentionally. The depths of his eyes swirl darker with the admission.

Of course, how we were brought together is always there in the back of my mind. How can it not be? He has the same eyes as his father, and every time I look into Luca’s, I’m reminded of that day. Everything is a reminder of that day and I’m so fucking done with it.

“Hate me,” I reply, my voice wobbling under the tension and anger. I understand it. I understand why he’s so conflicted because I am too. “Blame me, Luca. Do whatever it takes to get through this.”

Luca rests his forehead against mine. I think this is the closest we’ve ever been to one another. I ignore the fact he has gone from resenting me to wanting some kind of contact because every time I look in his eyes, I see pieces of me. The guilt, the anger, the fear. Every part of me reflects in those blue pools.

“I can’t.” His eyes dart around my face. “I don’t know what happened, but something has changed.”

He’s right. Something has changed. Between us, between all of us. I don’t know how I’m meant to navigate it, because while I like Levi, I’m also drawn to Luca.

But I’m meant to like Levi. He’s the one I kissed. He’s the one who has been there for me ever since Enzo died. He’s the one I feel a connection with. So why do I feel this complicated attraction to another guy? It’s fucked up and totally not me. I’m not the type to traipse from one guy to the next—hell, I’ve only had one serious relationship, and that was a seriously fucked up one. I don’t really know what I’m meant to do in this situation, with two guys!

It’s not like I’m comparing, because I’m not. I like Luca almost as much as I like Levi, and that’s a problem. This is why I can’t be involved with anyone. This is the exact distraction I was talking about. While every nerve ending is on high alert at just the mere touch of Luca’s fingers, my mind is warring a battle it’ll never win.

Can I like two people?

Is that even a thing?

Of course, it’s a thing because I do.

“Luca,” I whisper breathlessly. My pulse picks up. My heart feels like it’s fighting to break out of my chest, and I’m at a loss for words. I can’t string a coherent thought together because I’m so caught up in the torrent of emotions.

Apparently, I don’t need to say a thing because Luca brushes his lips against mine, essentially preventing me from speaking.

Not that I mind.

His kiss is soft, almost wary that I might not want this, even though every part of me is screaming that I do. It’s the softest kiss that has every nerve ending sparking to life inside me. It’s not demanding like Levi’s; it feels like he’s holding back, like he doesn’t want to push me.

My hands automatically wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. It gives him the consent he was seeking to kiss me harder, deeper. It’s all-consuming, unlike anything I’ve felt before. He kisses me like a man starved, a man desperate for connection. His tongue glides against mine, soft strokes that grow equally desperate the longer we’re like this. His soft palms slide over my skin, slipping to the back of my neck. But the softness doesn’t last. His grip tightens. It’s like he’s suddenly overpowered by an urge he can’t ignore. He tilts my head back further until he’s leaning over me, his lips taking complete control.

I gasp. For everything that feels wrong, this feels so right. I’m burning up, desire pooling in the place that could be my undoing. My fingers drag across Luca’s shoulders, down his chest. The hard planes of muscle tense up, and I’m putty all over again. Our mouths move together, fitting so well against one another that there’s no way I could ever ignore this attraction. It’s a kiss I’ll be thinking about long after it’s over.

Eventually, Luca slows our kiss down until it’s a drawn out press of his lips on mine. It’s hot and heady, making me dizzy. When he finally pulls away, I’m left stunned. Breathless.

“Cazzo,” he husks, resting his forehead against mine.

Yeah. Something like that.

I smile back, even though my racing heart and frantic thoughts are pummeling me with indecision. What we just did wasn’t just anything. It meant something. Maybe it was a hopeful endeavor that if we kissed, and it was shit, Luca would be able to wipe the lust from his features. In fact, it has the opposite effect. I know because I’m feeling it too. That wound up tension between us that was initially fueled by anger and resentment, doesn’t quite feel like that anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says after a beat. The gravity of what just transpired has his shoulders sagging. He peels himself away from me, eyes darkening and jaw ticking. “That was a mistake.”

I feel those words in the pit of my stomach, like a lead weight plummeting.

He goes to take a step back, but I grab his wrist, pulling him back to me. I don’t want this moment to end, I don’t want Luca to back away from me. Not now. He’s just exposed a piece of his cracked soul to me, exposed a vulnerability that I’m the root cause of. How could I let him walk away without talking?

His hands automatically land on my hips, making me all too aware that I’m only wearing an oversized shirt and sleep shorts. He keeps me far enough away from him that I can’t wrap my arms around him, but close enough that there’s some contact.

“Was it?” I hazard. Because as unexpected as that kiss was, I can’t deny how right it felt; how it breathed some sort of new life into me that I didn’t know was missing.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he retreats before I can even register it happening. And like a shadowed cloud, I’m left standing there defeated by confusion and lust.

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