My eyes follow Luca’s shirtless back as he walks from the bathroom into Peter’s old bedroom, wearing only a towel around his waist.

I may be mad at him for what he did, but my body apparently missed the memo, because my heart flips at the sight of him. I have to stop myself from dropping to my knees and finding out what he tastes like right after a shower.

I tell myself I’m just keeping a close eye on him because he’s a thief, but I can’t even convince myself.

Some droplets of water cling to Luca’s skin, filling my chest with jealousy. I want to go over there and lick every single one of them off his body.

As he disappears into Peter’s old bedroom, I pull my attention back to the coffee I’m making for Luca. I’ve been absent-mindedly stirring the black liquid inside a mug, even though there’s no sugar or cream in it.

I’m a vet and not a doctor, but I think having something warm to drink would help Luca feel more comfortable. He’s been sneezing a lot.

By the time Luca emerges from the bedroom wearing Peter’s old clothes, I’m sitting by the kitchen island. I almost laugh because Luca’s chosen a pair of jeans and a white shirt, despite the fact that there are other things in Peter’s wardrobe.

Apparently, Luca knows exactly what he wants and sticks to whatever it is.

That’s probably why his art medium is permanent ink on skin, instead of something like digital graphic design.

“Those clothes look like they fit,” I say, making small talk.

I’d tease him over his outfit if things weren’t this weird and awkward between us. But it doesn’t feel right for me to do that now.

I mean, I feel like I don’t know this man. He looks like Luca and he moves like Luca, but he’s not the same Luca I was so infatuated with not too long ago.

“Yeah, they’re a little bit small, but it’s not a big deal,” Luca says as he approaches the kitchen island.

“That’s yours.” I point at the white mug with the white steam coming off the fragrant black coffee inside it.

“Thanks.” Luca pulls out the bar chair next to mine, sits down, and takes a sip. “Thank you for inviting me in, Sarah. I want to straighten some things out.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Luca. I didn’t invite you in because I wanted you to explain things to me. I did it because it was storming outside, and I couldn’t have left you shivering in the rain. After you finish your coffee, you can go back outside.”

“I don’t care if you think of me as a stray dog you bring home,” Luca says. “I’m just glad to get this chance to be heard. Listen, your mom . . . She’s gotten it into her head that I’d help her get her hands on some stuff—some illegal drugs.”

I nod. Yeah. I knew what “stuff” meant. I grew up watching her use it.

Luca pulls out his phone. It’s dry, this time, and still fully working. He looks down as he taps on the screen, then he gives me the phone.

Our hands graze against each other, and I linger for as long as I dare—any longer, and I won’t be able to claim it’s an accident. It strikes me this could be the last time we ever touch, and my heart grows heavy.

On the screen of the phone, I see a string of messages between Luca and my mom.

Luca didn’t answer my mom’s initial texts, but she followed up within days.

It goes on like that for weeks. This has been happening since before I got into town, I realize.

On the day of Peter’s funeral, my name is mentioned.

Goosebumps prickle all over my skin. This is gross. My mom was offering me to some guy, just because she wanted to sample some “good stuff.”

Luca didn’t answer her on that day either, but then her messages changed in tone, from persuasive to threatening.

Luca didn’t respond.

When I check the date, I realize that was the day before my mom’s sudden appearance at the clinic. That explains why she was there. She didn’t care about me. She just wanted to use me to get some drugs.

I almost chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. Turns out I was right when I thought her behavior was suspicious. I’m not shit at recognizing my mom’s true motives, after all.

I just can’t seem to be able to read Luca as easily. I can’t believe I didn’t see the signs that he was lying to me. Even right now, he stares at me openly with bright eyes, unburdened by guilt—or so it appears, to me.

I lift my gaze to meet Luca’s.

“I’m not saying that believing in your mom was stupid,” Luca says. “I just . . . I don’t know. I was convicted for drug crimes, so I can see why you’d believe her.

“And I know I was acting shady sometimes, and I’m sorry. I need you to believe me when I tell you that I’ve never had any bad intentions toward you. In fact, I did it all for you.”

“Did what?” I ask, confused. “Wait, so are you a junkie or a dealer?”

“Neither,” Luca says firmly.

“Then why is my mom so convinced that you have what she wants?” I stop myself from asking, and why do you actually have it?

I don’t know who Luca really is. He could be dangerous. I don’t want a dangerous man to know I’ve seen proof of his crime.

“Because I did,” Luca admits.

Despite his clear intention to come clean, it still surprises me to hear him say it. Also, does that mean he’s already sold the drugs? When, where, how, and to whom? I have so many questions.

“Why did you have it if you weren’t a junkie or a dealer?”

Luca falls silent. He puts his hands over his face and lets out a big sigh. “I promised Peter I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“What does Peter have to do with anything?”

“Everything has been about him.” Luca stares at me strangely. “There’s nothing I want more than to tell you, Sarah. You have that betrayed look on your face, and I’d do anything to make you see that I was only trying to protect you.”

“So tell me,” I challenge him.

I don’t see how he can spin his story to excuse everything he’s done, but I want to hear this. I especially want to know what Peter’s got to do with this.

“I promised Peter I wasn’t going to tell you . . .” Luca draws a long breath, looking conflicted.

“How convenient.”

“I think Peter would understand, though. If he were here to see what this secret’s done to us . . . he’d want me to tell you.”

“Okay.” I’m still waiting.

“Peter didn’t die of cancer.”

“What do you mean?” I ask quickly. “That’s not possible. I saw the medical records. I talked to his doctor. He told me that—”

“He had cancer,” Luca says, cutting off my stream of questions. “But that wasn’t what killed him. He died of overdose. Somehow, I got Dr. Norman to keep it quiet and let everyone assume Peter had died of cancer.”

I don’t know if I believe this story. But before I know it, tears spring forth from my eyes.

My brother . . . died of overdose? My heart shatters at the thought of him dealing with cancer and addiction at the same time.

I wasn’t there for him.

“I’m sorry, Sarah. But it’s true,” Luca says softly. “Peter didn’t want you to find out. That’s why he was feeding you all those lies about how he was fine, and you didn’t have to come home.

“He didn’t want you to see him all sick and weak. His whole adult life, he’d tried to be strong for you, to replace your parents. He didn’t want you to remember him as he was in his last months.”

I frown. “So you knew he was doing this?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t say anything? It didn’t seem fucked-up to you that he was keeping me in the dark and depriving me of the chance to say goodbye?” My voice grows louder as grief fans the angry flame burning inside me. “I can’t believe you let him become an addict. You knew how sick he was. And you still have the gall to call yourself a friend?”

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms.

Luca shakes his head. “The pain he was in . . . He needed those drugs, Sarah. I couldn’t have taken them from him. I wouldn’t have done that to my worst enemy. And Peter was my best friend.”

“If he really needed them so badly, why didn’t his doctor prescribe them for him?”

“You’d think someone would’ve, right?” Luca draws a deep breath. He blinks and gazes at me with sad eyes. Obviously, losing Peter has been hard on him, too.

“He, uh . . . When a nurse asked him about history of drug abuse, Peter made the mistake of telling her the truth. That, I guess, put him on a list of ‘drug-seeking’ patients,” Luca says, drawing air quotes with his fingers. He tells me his story slowly, like he’s telling me some kind of a twisted bed-time story.

“When he told them he wasn’t getting enough drugs to manage his pain, they didn’t believe him, even though he could hardly sleep. He’d ask them for medication, and they’d tell him to wait fifteen minutes, but they’d never come back with it. He’d watch the clock and keep asking every fifteen minutes anyway.

“Those dumbasses had no idea Peter had a high tolerance of pain medication because of his history, so they should’ve given him more. Instead, when the hospital told him to go home, they gave him even less because they were scared he was going to abuse his medication.

“Well, guess what he did when he was home and overcome with pain in the middle of the night?” Luca asks, his deep voice shaking with anger.

“He took the drugs that belonged to the clinic,” I answer.

My heart squeezes with every little detail of the story. I can imagine Peter stumbling down the stairs, grunting with pain in the dark, and finally finding relief after downing some pills.

“Yeah,” Luca says. “I tried to talk some sense into the people at the hospital, but they wouldn’t listen to me. It was like they wanted to punish Peter for having had addiction issues in the past.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say . . . I . . . Are you sure the hospital wasn’t giving him the medication he needed? I find that hard to believe.”

“I overheard the nurses saying they were going to dry him out.” Luca pauses. “They denied it, of course. But I know what I heard.”

I put my hand over my mouth and try not to hyperventilate.

“I couldn’t have told Peter not to self-medicate,” Luca says. “After his frustration dealing with the hospital? I couldn’t be yet another person keeping him in pain. And pain wasn’t the only thing he was dealing with. He was scared, too.”

I nod as tears sting my eyes. I wouldn’t have been able to stop Peter either.

“I tried to get him to work out a dosage and let me control how much he took, but he started building resistance to the medication. He needed more and more to cope with the pain, and the whole thing fell apart.

“Maybe I should’ve taken all the pills away, but I couldn’t watch him suffer. He was sweating bullets. Cold sweat. And he kept making these . . . noises.” Luca looks into my eyes and says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get so graphic.”

“No, no. I want to hear everything.” Tears roll down my cheeks.

“When Peter told you not to come home, he was already addicted to pain medication. Like I said, he didn’t want you to find out about it. But now I’ve broken my promise to him and told you anyway . . .” Guilt fills Luca’s eyes. “He asked me to do some things that weren’t quite right. But it wasn’t black and white, and I chose to listen to my best friend’s last requests.”

I nod. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I should be angry at Peter, at Luca, at the hospital staff, or at anyone. Nobody’s completely innocent, but nobody’s completely guilty either.

“I found some pill bottles in your bag,” I tell Luca. “I found them when I was at your tattoo parlor. By accident. I was trying to get something, but I dropped some other things instead.”

Luca pauses. “That’s why you left,” he says, as if he’s just solved a puzzle.

“Yeah. I thought you were stealing from me . . . Were you?” I hold my breath as I wait for his answer.

“No.” As Luca shakes his head, thunder rolls outside. “Peter told me the clinic could lose its license if anyone found out about the missing drugs, so he made me promise to replace whatever he took.”

“So the bottles in your bag . . .”

“The pills in those bottles were fake.” Luca nods. “Sugar pills. Peter put them back on the shelves himself.”

“And you replaced them with new ones.”

“Yeah. I got some stuff from the streets.”

“Is that why my mom calls you a dealer and a junkie?” I ask.

“She may have seen me talking to a shady guy when we were exchanging goods.”

“Does she know about Peter’s addiction?”

“No,” Luca says quickly. “He never would’ve wanted her to find out.”

I fall silent. Wordless questions float in my mind as I struggle to accept what Luca’s saying.

His story makes sense. But it’s also all kinds of crazy.

“Are you okay?” Luca asks gently.

His soothing voice feels like a soft, fuzzy blanket, keeping me warm and safe while it’s raining cats and dogs outside.

“Yeah. It’s just . . . That’s a lot to take in, Luca,” I say. The understatement of the year.

“I, uh, I originally put in the spy cams to keep an eye on Peter. I tried. I made it clear to him that I was watching. I was hoping that it would be a deterrent for him, that he’d think twice before popping an extra pill in his mouth. But evidently . . . it didn’t work.”

“Do you still have those recordings?” I ask.

“Yeah . . . Do you want to see them?”

I shake my head. I don’t think I can stomach that. I just asked because I wanted to test Luca. He offered to let me watch the recordings without any hesitation, which can only mean he’s been telling the truth.

“Why are you telling me all this, Luca?” I ask. “You didn’t have to. You could’ve kept your promise to Peter.”

“And live my life being hated by you? I can’t. I don’t see how I can do that,” Luca says. His gaze softens. “I know we both said we were going to keep this casual . . . but I can’t do that either. Sorry.”

Despite the somber mood, my heart flips at his words.

“I should apologize, too,” I say.

“Why is that?”

“Remember when I said we’re the same kind of crazy?”

“Yeah.” Luca’s lips curl up into a small smile.

“Well . . . Like you, I can’t keep this casual either,” I admit.

His eyes brighten up when he realizes what I’m saying. He studies my features and stares deep into my soul. “You have feelings for me, Sarah?”

“Do you?” I ask.

I can play a coquettish temptress when it comes to sex, but when it comes to emotions . . . I’m chicken. These feelings warring in my chest are freaking me out.

I feel more vulnerable now than I ever have, even compared to all those times I let some stranger take control of my body.

I’ve never let anyone touch my heart before. But Luca has burrowed himself deep inside and made himself at home. Still, I’m scared. And, I need him to be the one to say it first.

“Yes,” he says.

That one word has never meant so much before. A smile spreads across my cheeks.

“Yes, I do,” Luca repeats. “I should’ve said this before, Sarah, but I hope it’s not too late. I thought I was protecting you by putting some distance between us. I thought you’d be better off with someone else, someone nice. I thought—”

“I don’t want someone nice.” I grin as I listen to Luca’s impassioned speech. I didn’t know he had that many words in him.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m realizing. I thought wrong, Sarah. I was wrong, and you were right. You and me, we’re the same kind of crazy.”

“Peas in a pod.”

“Kindred spirits.” Luca’s lips curl up into a captivating smile as he puts his hands around my waist.

“For what it’s worth . . . I’ve never felt healthier than when I was with you. My mind was clearest, and I was happiest then,” I say.

“Yeah. My whole life, all I’ve cared about is my work and my addiction. And now, somehow, you’ve become my new addiction.” Luca leans forward until he’s so close I can feel his hot breath.

“And you’ve become mine,” I say. “We may be bad apart, but for some reason we’re good together. It’s like multiplying two negatives and getting a positive.”

Luca chuckles. “I love you,” he says, staring deep into my soul with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I love you, too,” I say softly.

Luca pulls me into a kiss—the sweetest, the most honest kiss I’ve ever experienced. It’s a slow, hot, gentle, giddying kiss.

It’s not just my body Luca wants. This time, he claims my heart, too.

I return his kiss with all the passion I’ve been holding inside me, giving him my all.