CHAPTER TWO

 

Luca

 

I’M AT ONE OF THE places I come to when I need a break from the daily bullshit of my life. I sit on the edge of the bluff, one knee bent with my arm draped over it, my other leg hanging over the side. I look out across the abyss before me, taking in all that is Silver Hill. It’s amazing, the difference between the left and the right. One side holds the riches of Silver Hill, while the other carries the dirt-poor and desperate. It literally splits down the middle. Where I sit on the cliff, it looks like I’m balancing between the two. I’m not, and never will be. I’ll always belong to the barren and crummy side, even if Ink Me is doing well enough I could afford the finer things in life.

I lie back against the hard gravel and stare up at the bright sky, tucking my hands behind my head. Silver Landing, a name the people of Silver Hill have dubbed the bluff, is the one place where the two sides come to socialize. Both rich and poor teenagers come up here on weekends to satisfy their twisted need to mix with the others. I came up here a few times during the nightly get-togethers just out of curiosity, but it was never my thing. Instead, I preferred to come during the day when no one was around to bother me.

I close my eyes and enjoy the fresh air as it passes through my lungs. I frown as something sweet intermingles with the woodsy scent.

Wildflowers.

That’s the only word that comes to mind for the smell. It shouldn’t be here because there’re no wildflowers around. All that’s here is gravel and dirt and patches of dried grass. The smell is beautiful, which contrasts with my surroundings.

The bright light from the sun through my closed eyes dims, and I slowly open them. They widen when I see something hovering over me. Not something, but someone. A woman. A woman with brunette hair that floats around her. Her eyes, the color of bright amber, stare at me dolefully.

She’s about five feet above me, her body longways to match my horizontal position. She seems to be in a spectral form. She’s in front of me but not fully there. Her white sleeveless dress drifts around her legs.

She’s pretty. No, not pretty. Devastatingly gorgeous.

Not understanding why I do it, I lazily smile up at her. She smiles back, but it fades seconds later, and her eyes take on a dead look. The first sharp stab pierces my chest, and I suck in a breath at the sudden pain.

“Where are you, Luca?” the woman whispers, her lips barely moving. “I’m waiting for you.”

Her hand reaching toward me and the desperate pleading in her eyes paralyze me. I want to reach out and grasp her, to pull her to me and demand she tell me what’s wrong, but for some reason I can’t. I’m frozen; the only part of my body moving is my chest as I breathe heavily.

My jaw clenches as I strain my muscles, trying to get them to move, but no matter how hard I internally push myself, nothing fucking happens.

What in the ever-lovin’ hell?

“Tell me your name,” I force out through gritted teeth. Even moving my lips is strenuous, but something tells me I need to know her name.

Instead of answering me, her arm goes back to her side. Tears glisten in her eyes and her expression turns sad once again.

A second stinging pain lances my chest, and I flinch.

“I need you. Please, please, help me.”

I try again to lift my arm but get nowhere.

“I don’t understand.” The growled words rumble from my tight throat. “How do I help you?”

She stays silent as she looks at me with her solemn golden eyes.

Her body inches closer to me, and I know if she were to reach out now, she’d be able to touch me. I wish she would. I don’t understand why I have this need, but there’s a strong desire to have some part of her touch some part of me.

All I can do is lie there and look at her as she gets closer and closer. Her wraithlike appearance allows me to see the trees above us through her body, but as she draws nearer, her features become more clear. She has a small scattering of freckles across her cheeks. One in particular stands out more than the others because it’s bigger and is just below the corner of her right eye. She also has the beginning of small indents in her cheeks that suggests dimples if she were to smile.

My body tenses even further when she doesn’t stop and keeps floating toward me. Her eyes don’t change, and she doesn’t try to touch me. She’s only inches from me now, and my chest tightens the closer she gets.

She’s so close I can see black specks in her eyes mixing in with the pretty golden amber.

Painful breath rushes from my lungs when she all of a sudden closes her eyes and an agonizing scream escapes her lips. Not a second later, she bursts into a thousand tiny flashes of bright light, her scream still echoing around me. The small fragments fall, and it’s like some magnetic force inside me is drawing them into my body. Each piece that penetrates is more excruciating than the last.

 

 

I WAKE WITH A jerk, my eyes flying wide open as I sit up in bed. I clutch my chest as searing pain crushes my lungs. I pull in deep breaths, trying to push the discomfort away. It’s fake, leftover fragments from the pain in my dream. It has to be.

I toss the covers aside and climb from the bed. Stalking toward the bathroom, I stumble a few steps, my equilibrium off.

“Fuckin’ hell,” I mutter as the bright light of the bathroom stabs at my aching head.

I walk to the sink, turn on the tap, and splash cold water on my face. Lifting my head, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes stare back at me. I have rings under my eyes, and my black hair looks fucking wild.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and memories of the dream rush behind my closed lids.

When the dreams started back up again a couple months ago, they were different than the ones I had before. The woman was always the same and so was the dark setting with the tiny sparks of light. She never spoke, but I always felt her eyes on me.

This dream was even more different. It was outside in the broad light of day. In a place I know well. What that means, I have no idea. I just wish it would stop.

I used to only have one every couple of months, but since they returned, I have them several times a week. Before tonight, my last one was two nights ago. It’s fucking with my sleep, meaning, I’m not getting much, and it pisses me off.

Why can’t she just tell me what in the fuck she wants from me? Even if she only needs help in my dream and she’s not out there somewhere powerless and in dire need, she could at least tell me what in the hell she needs me to do.

I push away from the sink, start the shower, and don’t wait for the spray to warm before I step inside. The cold water hits my sweaty body. Bowing my head, I step under the showerhead until the water meets my shoulders. The cold distracts me from the haunted amber eyes and my unanswered questions.

Once the water warms, I lift my shoulders a few times and twist my head back and forth to loosen the tense muscles. I stay that way for a while, until the throbbing in my head lessens. The pain in my chest is still there, but that too has tapered slightly.

Turning the water off, I step out and grab a towel. Wrapping it around my waist without drying off, I leave the bathroom and go to my closet, where I find a pair of jogging pants. After slipping them on, I head toward the kitchen and the coffeepot on the counter, knowing there will be no more sleep for me.

I step to the window with my coffee cup in hand and look out into the darkness. The streetlights a couple houses down give just enough light to see littered and overgrown yards. The houses aren’t much better with their peeling paint, dilapidated porches, and cracked windows.

I turn my head to the side and look at the bookshelf that has my collection of books and CDs. Further to the left is my flat-screen TV. It’s not huge, but it’s not small either by any standards. Beneath it is my Xbox console and games. Behind me is my brown suede couch and love seat, with a recliner between the two. There’re tables at the end of the love seat and couch. It wasn’t an expensive set, but it’s still a nice one. My kitchen has matching dishes and pots and pans that I bought at an outlet store. My bedroom set matches too, but again, it’s another department store purchase, nothing fancy.

I’ve worked my ass off on changing this house from a two-bedroom, two-bathroom dump into a decent-looking home. My yard has green grass, and I cut it weekly. The outside was freshly painted two years ago, and my porch is level.

My parents worked hard all their life to ensure my brother, sister, and I had everything we needed. We may have not gotten the stuff we wanted, but we always had food on our table and clean clothes on our backs.

As an adult, I may not have the finest things in life, but I live comfortably, even if I am surrounded by shady shit all day long. I’m happy where I am, and I’m happy knowing I’m in a situation where if my family needs something, I can more than likely get it for them.

I turn away from the window and chug down the rest of my coffee before putting the cup in the sink. Leaving the kitchen, I walk to the garage where I have a weight bench. Lying back, I grip the bar, blow out a breath, and push upward. Straining sure as hell doesn’t help my head, but it feels fucking great on my muscles.

It also pushes away the vision of a woman with sorrow in her amber eyes.

 

 

I SLIP MY WALLET IN my jeans and have just swiped my keys off the bar when there’s a knock at the door. Irritation has me stalking over and yanking it open. As soon as I see the small person on the other side, my snarled words die in my throat and something warm fills my chest.

“Hey, Uncle Luca,” Aria, my six-year-old niece, chirps as she bounces past me into the living room. I turn and watch as she beelines it to the kitchen where I know she’ll ransack my cabinets for any sweets.

I turn back to the door just as my twin brother hits the bottom of the steps.

“What are you doing here, Theo?” I glance down at the phone in my hand. “The shop opens in thirty minutes.”

He blows out a breath as he takes the last couple of steps.

“I know,” he answers. “We won’t be long. I haven’t had a chance to go to the grocery store in the last week, and we ran out of bread for her lunch today.”

I clench my jaw and push back my need to growl. This isn’t the first time he’s had to come to mine, Ella’s, or our parents’ to get food for Aria. Theo tries, but he’s just never been a good single dad. Sure, he loves Aria; you can see it in his eyes when he looks at her, but when it comes to caring for her and providing her the things she needs, he does a shit job. I can’t count how many times we’ve had to get groceries for them or buy her clothes that actually fit her. Lord knows what would happen to the girl if we weren’t around.

“Fine,” I bite out, then spin on my heel to make sure Aria grabs herself something healthy.

“Why isn’t she in school already?” I ask over my shoulder. “It started a couple of hours ago.”

“His alarm didn’t go off.” Aria supplies the answer before Theo can.

Again, I have to force back a nasty remark. I’ve had many conversations with Theo about the terrible job he’s doing raising his daughter, but I refuse to do it in front of Aria.

I walk over and grab a loaf of bread and the peanut butter before going to the fridge for the jelly. I step beside Aria at the counter to make her sandwich as she pulls grapes from their vines and stuffs them in a baggy; every few she plops one in her mouth. With a father like Theo, she’s been forced to grow up faster than her almost seven years.

“Gimme,” I tell her, and bend over with my mouth open.

Her smile is big as she tosses one into my mouth, then giggles when I catch it and chomp down.

“Listen,” Theo says, leaning on the counter and not even attempting to help his daughter make her lunch. “I need you to watch Aria for me this weekend. I would ask Mom, but she watched her last weekend.”

“Why?”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Got a hot date.”

“Yeah, a hot date with a ho,” Aria mutters quietly beside me.

I bump my elbow against Aria. “Watch the language.”

Another thing about Theo is, he’s a manwhore, and sometimes brings his girls home with him. Luckily, he either waits until Aria is in bed before he fucks them, or asks someone in the family to watch her. I’m not against him dating by any means, but having them around Aria, even if it is innocent in front of her, still pisses me off. Aria’s mom disappeared days after she was born. Theo says their relationship wasn’t serious, so he never brought her around to meet us. Having so many women in the house has to be confusing to her.

“What night?” I grunt the question.

“Friday. I’ve already checked with Ella and she says you get off at seven. I was thinking I could drop her off at six and she could ride home with you.”

And fuck all if I had plans for the evening. As the boss man, I don’t get many Friday nights off. Theo and I may be twins, but we couldn’t be more different. Whereas I prefer to be more selective on who I take to bed, excluding Cora and my major fuckup in judgement, Theo loves the attention and will take it from any female. I went through a short partying stage in my early twenties, but Theo is still smack dab in the middle of his, despite having a daughter he’s responsible for. Our looks are different as well. I keep my body in shape by running, working out, and regular visits to Abe’s. Theo’s body is firm with muscles, but he’s more slender. His workouts come in the form of fucking women. Up until a few years ago, we both wore the same hairstyle, long enough to touch our shoulders. Now mine is cut shorter but still long on the top. Over half my body is covered in tattoos, and I have piercings in my left eyebrow, my tongue, nipples, dick, and have gauges in my ears. Other than a couple of small tattoos, Theo’s body is clean and piercing free.

Our eyes are the same though. Electric blue, or so I’m told. For some reason women go fucking crazy over them. Theo is also the charmer of us two. He’s always cheerily in a good mood. I’ve always had a short and volatile temper.

“Please, please, Uncle Luca!” Aria begs, reminding me of Theo’s question. “I don’t want to be stuck at the house with them. I can help make dinner.”

I look down into her eyes. Eyes that she got from Theo. It’s different seeing the color on her. When I look into the mirror, all I see is a blue, but on her, they seem brighter, more explosive. They look stunning on her. There’s no damn way I’d make her stay at home with Theo and one of his girls.

I yank one of her pigtails, ones I know she did herself because her dad never even attempts to do her hair.

“You can stay with me Friday night, boo,” I tell her. She squeals and jumps up and down, knocking several grapes to the floor.

“Can I bring Goodie with me?”

I ball my hand into a fist, feeling a phantom pain in the webbing between my thumb and forefinger. Goodie is Aria’s hamster, and his bite hurts like a bitch. Ella got him for her when Aria was three years old because she had one when she was little and now thinks every child should have one. The minute Aria saw him, she clapped her hands and yelled, “Goodie.” The word stuck and became his name. He’s never bitten Aria, but if anyone else’s hand comes near him he chomps down. I think I still have a scar from when the little fucker took a chunk out of me.

“Yes.” Before she gets too excited, I add, “But he sleeps in the living room.”

I already have enough trouble sleeping; no way am I letting a rodent who likes to chew on his cage at night disturb even more of my sleep. The little shit is going as far from my bedroom as possible

“Okay,” she agrees with a big grin.

We finish her lunch, and by the time I’m locking up the door behind us, I know I’m going to be late opening the shop. Watching Aria, brown lunch bag in hand, skip to Theo’s beat-up car in her girly bubbly way, I know it’s worth it.