“Hot damn, yes ma’am,” Antoni said, clapping his hands together.
“Jo hit the nail on the head.” Cash leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “I think an interview is the right move. There will still be those you can’t please, but they’re not your people.”
“Your story is important, Luca,” Dallas said. “It deserves to be told.”
“I think it does too,” Liv added. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Your well-being is what’s important.”
“I think I need to do thisformy well-being.” I paused and blew out a breath. “The interviews I did over the last couple of weeks barely scratched the surface of what led me to this point in my life. I don’t think I owe people every piece of me. There are some things I’ll keep for myself, but I feel like I’m finally ready to…let people know me.”
“Anyone that gets to know you is lucky,” Katie said. “You’re a pretty awesome guy.”
Dallas shrugged. “I guess he’s all right.”
“If you’re comfortable putting yourself out there, I think it’s a solid choice,” Jax said. “People have a bad habit of just filling in the blanks for us. There’s power in owning your story.”
His words echoed through my mind. For a long time, I didn’t want people to know my history. The patchwork of my past was sewn with shame, guilt, and resentment. That’s why I kept it hidden away, stuffed under boxes of things I’d rather forget in the dingy attic of my mind. But when I finally brought it down the rickety stairs and carried it into the sun, I realized there was so much more to it than I remembered. There were golden threads of strength and endurance and unbreakable strings that connected me to those I loved.
There was disgrace and glory. Pain and beauty. Darkness and light. The fabric of my life was woven in dualities, each one a vital part of what made me.
I slid my fingers through my hair. “You’re right, Jax. I hadn’t thought about it like that before, but that’s exactly what I need to do: take ownership of my story. I can’t control how other people receive it. All I can do is be honest and tell it.”
Jo nodded. “Yep. Other people’s opinions of you are none of your business. What really counts is whatyouthink.”
“And what we think, of course,” Ella said with a grin. “But we’re gonna support you no matter what.”
I returned her smile. “Thanks, Ella.”
The prospect of doing an in-depth interview still terrified me, but knowing I had my friends on my side made it easier, somehow. Regardless of what happened, I could turn off my phone and television screen. Once I put my story out there, it was up to others to interpret it how they wanted, to take it how they choose. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what they thought—good or bad, whether they cared or were completely indifferent.
What mattered most were the faces right in front of me and the one who wasn’t there, but who was always at the forefront of my mind.
THIRTY-ONE
McKenzie
Tuesday wentby in a series of well-rehearsed motions at work. It felt good to let my brain shift into autopilot and stop thinking for a few hours. Katie and Dallas had been in and were excited about a surprise family dinner they’d planned to lift Luca’s spirits. Ella and Cash had dropped by the restaurant for lunch and to say hi. It made me smile to imagine Luca’s face when he saw all of his friends gathered together. Part of me wished I could be there with him, but knowing they were there holding space for him gave me the chance to relax a little and think about what I needed.
I stopped by The Piccadilly Deli on the way home for a to-go burger and was on my couch in my pajamas by 7:30 p.m. Binx and Earl Grey snoozed beside me, seemingly exhausted from their day of doing absolutely nothing, while I flipped through the offerings of every streaming service imaginable. But nothing caught my eye or sounded remotely interesting.
“What should we watch, guys?” I asked the cats. “Give me something to work with here.”
Binx opened his eyes to a slit, glaring at me as though sayingI’m attempting to watch the backs of my eyelids, peasant, but you won’t shut your trap.
To further prove they would be of no help, Earl Grey stretched his stout body out long, looking like a fluffy loaf of bread.
“You guys need to get jobs.”
I clicked the television off and opted for some music instead, playing My Chemical Romance on my phone while I finished dinner. Once I was finished and discarded my trash, I piddled around the kitchen, wiping down the already clean surfaces.
As the music played softly in the background, I thought of Luca and wondered how his dinner was going. I imagined how good it probably felt for him to see the friends he’d been missing, and I was hit with a pang of envy. Not because I wasn’t there, but because I couldn’t just call up or visit the person I missed most.
I’d have given anything to talk to Brennan…to hear his voice. I tapped my fingers along the counter, desperate for a place to channel some of my anxious energy.
The worn composition notebook I used to write out to-do lists and what I needed from the grocery store stared up at me from its place beside my old stand mixer. It reminded me of the notebooks my friends and I would pass back and forth to each other in middle school, only those had been decorated with stickers, while this one was adorned with coffee rings.
Letters.
It had been years since I’d written one.
