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9

MARNIN

T he sun had no mercy as it barged through the curtains, and I groaned, feeling like a wrecking ball had taken up residence in my head. For a moment, I lay still on the unfamiliar bed, letting the throbbing in my skull sync with my heartbeat. Ennio’s guest room was quiet aside from my own pained breathing, but memories of last night—spilling my guts to him like some melodramatic confessional—crashed over me, wave after relentless wave.

“Ugh,” I muttered to the ceiling, pressing the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. What the fuck had I been thinking?

I hadn’t been, courtesy of my vain attempt to drown my sorrows in alcohol. Was it too much to ask for that much whiskey to have at least incapacitated my memory? Apparently so, as I remembered everything in vivid detail.

The embarrassment clung to me, sticky and suffocating, but underneath that was something lighter, a relief I didn’t want to examine too closely. Ennio hadn’t laughed at me or told me to man up. Instead, he’d listened with those deep blue eyes that rivaled the damn Skykomish itself—calm and fathomless. I wasn’t sure why he’d come to pick me up instead of Auden, but I was grateful. If it had been my best friend, I might’ve spilled my guts to him, and that would’ve been a thousand times worse than this.

Pushing myself upright, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, each movement sending fresh pulses of pain through my head. My body felt like it was filled with lead as I stumbled to the bathroom, slamming my toe against the doorframe.

“Son of a?—”

Once inside the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The sight wasn’t pretty: beard unkempt, hair sticking up in all directions, and eyes dulled by hangover haze. The perfect picture of middle-aged misery. How the mighty had fallen.

I stepped into the shower, wincing as the hot water hit my skin, beads of moisture running down like they were trying to wash away last night’s confession. But water couldn’t cleanse the worry or the growing sense of helplessness. How did one handle news that might flip your world upside down? How did one prepare for a battle when you didn’t even know if there was an enemy yet?

“God,” I whispered, resting my forehead against the tiles as the water beat down on me. “What now?”

The steam swirled around me, carrying away my sarcastic quips and leaving behind raw vulnerability—a stranger in my own skin. I let the water run over me, hotter and hotter, until it almost burned. But decisions eluded me, slipping through my thoughts. Every choice seemed either half-baked or catastrophic. With a frustrated sigh, I turned off the tap and started toweling off.

The clatter of pans and the sizzle of something delicious dragged me out of my self-imposed exile in Ennio’s guest bathroom once I’d gotten dressed. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with the buttery aroma of scrambled eggs. Thank god for Ennio.

I leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, watching him. He was a blur of motion in his vibrant apron, flipping an omelet with the finesse of a circus performer. His blond hair caught the morning light streaming through the window, making him look like some kind of domestic angel, albeit one who wore mascara better than anyone I’d ever known.

I cleared my throat. “Morning.”

“Morning, Marnin!” he chirped without turning around, his voice rising above the cheerful pop of bacon in the pan. “Coffee’s ready if you need a lifeline.”

“Sweeter words have never been spoken.”

I ambled over to the kitchen high table, pulling out a stool. The kitchen was alive with the sounds of breakfast magic: the whisk kissing a bowl in rhythmic beats, the comforting scrape of toast being buttered, and the gentle chink of china as Ennio laid out plates. “You’re baking?”

“Preparing some dough for bread. I always bake my own.”

“How industrious of you.”

“Sit, eat,” Ennio instructed, sliding a plate piled high with fluffy eggs, crisp bacon, and toasted sourdough toward me. He poured me a cup of coffee, black just how I liked it, and joined me at the table with his own less mountainous serving.

“Thanks,” I said, still trying to reconcile this nurturing side of Ennio with the flamboyant clubber I’d come to know. It was disarming, watching him care so effortlessly. I took a tentative sip of the coffee. It was rich and dark, with a hint of bitterness that kickstarted my synapses back into gear.

“I figured you could use a solid foundation after last night.”

“And here I was hoping you’d be polite enough to pretend that never happened.”

“No such luck, I’m afraid.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“How’s your memory?”

“Unfortunately, I remember every detail.” The weight in my chest hadn’t lifted, and there was a vulnerability in sharing a morning like this, mundane yet intimate, that I wasn’t used to.

Ennio was quiet, and I looked up, meeting his earnest blue gaze. There was an understanding there, a silent reassurance that needed no words. It made something twist uncomfortably inside me—a mix of gratitude and an unfamiliar longing for connection. I shook it off and focused on the meal, letting the routine of eating ground me to the moment.

“Good?” Ennio asked, watching me closely as I took my first bite.

“It’s freaking amazing.” The flavors burst alive on my tongue. “Michelin-worthy.”

He snorted. “I’m a chef at an inn, Marnin, not a haute-cuisine restaurant.”

“Would you want that?”

He shook his head. “I’m not good enough for that level, and I don’t have that ambition either. That requires a dedication I’m not willing to invest. Those people have no personal life. I get two days off a week off, like most people. That’s impossible at that level. “

“Their loss is our gain. I need to eat at The Lodge more often.”

He sighed. “Enjoy it while it lasts. They’re selling.”

I reeled back. “They’re selling? For real?”

The owners of The Lodge were well-known to me. Once upon a time, I would’ve said they were Essex’s parents. He’d been a high school friend of mine who’d died in action in Afghanistan. But now that I’d become friends with York, Essex’s younger brother and, in my humble opinion, the better man of the two, Essex was no longer first in my mind when I thought of The Lodge.

Ennio nodded. “Yeah. We’ve had several interested parties visit.”

“What will happen to your job?”

He clicked his tongue. “Always straight to the core, hmm? I appreciate your directness, you know that? With you, you never have to wonder where you stand.”

“That’s a compliment I’ve not heard often.”

“Well, it’s true. And the answer is that I don’t know. It depends on who they sell to and if the new owners would be interested in keeping the current staff. If they aren’t, I’m out of a job.”

Something sad passed over his face.

“I’m sure you’ll find something else. You’re good and you have experience.”

He looked away, his face tight. “I’d better.”

It sounded ominous, but surely I was imagining that. What reason could he have to be that desperate? He didn’t have a family, no one else to provide for but him, so at least he didn’t have that worry.

I pushed my empty plate aside. Much to my own surprise, I’d cleared the entire thing, my belly fuller than it had been in a while. I tended to skip meals, especially when I was busy, and when I did remember to eat, I relied heavily on takeout.

Ennio stood and took our plates to the sink, where he started rinsing them.

“Ennio, about last night… I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. I was drunk and?—”

“Stop.” He didn’t turn around, but his tone left little room for argument. “You don’t need to apologize for getting drunk or for sharing. We all have those nights.”

His dismissal of my apology did little to ease the tightness constricting my throat. I rubbed my temples, willing away the remnants of a hangover that seemed to pale in comparison to the emotional whirlpool within.

“Thanks, but it’s not that.” My fingers drummed an uneven rhythm on the tabletop. “I’m not usually so?—”

“Vulnerable?” Ennio finally faced me with a kitchen towel in hand. His gaze was kind but unwavering, pinning me under a spotlight of scrutiny I wasn’t prepared for.

“Exactly.” It had been a long time since anyone had seen past my brusque exterior to the uncertainty lurking beneath. “I didn’t mean to put this on your shoulders.”

“Who will be there for you, Marnin, as you go through this?” he asked, a frown creasing his brow. His concern was palpable, the air charged with his silent plea for honesty.

“Truthfully? No one.” I shrugged, feigning indifference while my insides churned. “I never planned on telling anyone else. I mean, Fir knows, but obviously, he won’t talk.”

“You’re not gonna tell Auden?”

“Jesus, no. You know what your brother is like when he gets worried. I’ve seen pitbulls with less tenacity than him.”

“Then I’m glad you told me.” Ennio’s voice was firm, his conviction clear even as he resumed his task at the sink. “No one should have to go through something like this alone. I will be there for you, Marnin.”

I watched him for a moment, a part of me wanting to argue, to insist on the solitude I’d grown accustomed to. But another part, a part that had been buried deep, recognized the genuine care emanating from the man before me. And despite everything, it was comforting.

Still, I couldn’t surrender that easily, if only out of habit. “Ennio, I can’t expect you to?—”

“Stop right there.” He cut me off again, a small smile playing on his lips despite the seriousness in his eyes. It was the look of someone who had decided on their course and wouldn’t be swayed. “I’m here for you. That’s nonnegotiable.”

His words were a life ring thrown into churning waters, and I wasn’t sure whether to grasp it or let myself sink. “I don’t do well with…this. People caring.” My voice cracked, betraying the turmoil I fought so hard to keep at bay.

“Then you’re gonna have to learn.” He leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest, watching me with an intensity that both unnerved and intrigued me.

The casual movement seemed to highlight every line of his body, the slim build that carried a strength I hadn’t noticed before. There was something about the way he held himself, a quiet confidence that spoke of his determination to stand by me, even when I couldn’t fathom why.

“Have to, huh? And were you planning on actually letting me finish a sentence?” I allowed a half-smile, trying to deflect with humor. But as I met his gaze, something shifted within me. The guarded walls I had meticulously built around my heart trembled at the touch of his unspoken understanding.

“Not when you’re trying to protest. I’m not listening to that BS, and you can’t make me.”

Fuck, he was bossy, but in the best way. It was disarming how someone could simply decide to be there for you without asking for anything in return. How they could look at you, see all the jagged edges and dark corners, and not flinch away. It was sweet and touching and…

Nope, I wasn’t going there. He was my best friend’s little brother. Besides, he didn’t mean anything by it. He was being kind, was all.

“Thank you,” I said, the weight of those two words carrying more gratitude than I’d expressed in years. “For everything.”

He flashed me a brilliant smile, the kind that lit up his entire face and made my chest tighten with an emotion I couldn’t quite name. “Anytime, Marnin. Anytime.”

Okay, I needed to leave, create some distance between us. But before I could get up, the shrill ring of my phone sliced through the morning calm. One look at the caller ID had my stomach churning. “Hey, Fir.”

“Hey, Marnin. I have your results. Are you able to talk?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t know why, but I put my phone on speaker. Ennio stepped close to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Your PSA test was positive.”

Positive. Fuck. Did that mean I had…? “That’s not good, right?”

“It doesn’t mean anything. Remember what I told you about this particular test being notorious for false positives? A negative would’ve been conclusive, but a positive doesn’t indicate anything definitive yet. I know it sounds scary, but there are a lot of factors that can affect the results. It doesn’t automatically mean cancer.” Fir’s calm voice was a soothing balm against my rising panic.

“False positives?” I grasped onto the term like a lifeline.

“Inflammation, infections, even recent sexual activity can skew the numbers. You’ll need a follow-up appointment with a urologist for further tests.”

I swallowed. “I’ll call first thing tomorrow.”

“Good. Please keep me posted. And, Marnin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be rooting for you. Reach out if you need me, as a doctor or a friend. My confidentiality is a given in either role.”

Warmth filled me. Fir and I had only recently gotten closer, but he was still offering me his support. It spoke volumes about him as a doctor and as a person. “Thank you.”

I ended the call and met Ennio’s eyes. “Monday. I’ll call the urologist first thing.”

He nodded, his hand still warm on my shoulder. “Good. You’re taking charge, Marnin. That’s what you do best.”

I snorted, a halfhearted attempt at humor to mask the tremor of vulnerability within me. “Control freak, you mean?”

“Analytical,” he corrected without missing a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You understand how to navigate complex systems, solve problems. It’s what makes you brilliant at your job—and it’ll see you through this.”

“Maybe.” The word hung heavily between us, but I let out a breath. There was comfort in Ennio’s unwavering belief in me, even if my own confidence wavered.

“Hey”—Ennio leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper—“you’ll tackle this like you tackle everything else. Head-on, with no bullshit. Just…maybe with a little less whiskey next time?”

A laugh bubbled up from my chest, surprising me with its genuine warmth. “No promises.”