Page 44 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

True Colors

Anthony

Lexi and Jen kneel beside me, their hands hovering, unsure of how to comfort me as I crumple to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Jen reaches for me first, her arms wrapping around my shoulders.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” she whispers, stroking my back in slow, soothing motions.

Lexi, her jaw clenched, mutters, “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Jen shifts her grip, trying to lift me up. “Come on, let’s get you on the couch. Where’s your liquor? You need to take the edge off, or you’re going to have a full-blown panic attack.”

“They keep it in the cabinet above the fridge,” Lexi answers. “Grab the tequila.”

Jen moves quickly, retrieving the bottle and three glasses, then bringing them to the coffee table. She pours a heavy amount into each glass and slides one to me. I take it and slam it back without thinking.

Lexi raises a brow. “Well, okay then.”

Jen refills my glass, and this time, I take just one sip before setting it on the coffee table. My body sinks into the couch, and I rest my head against the back cushion. The girls position themselves on either side of me, turned in to face me, their hands resting on my arms.

I roll my head back and forth against the cushion, and I manage to whisper. “He’s gone.”

The warmth of their hands on me does nothing to ease the pain, the dagger lodged deep in my chest. The moment I blink, fresh tears spill over, and I break again. My body folds forward, elbows planted on my knees as sobs wrack through me.

The girls rub my back, their voices soft and soothing.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Jen murmurs, grabbing napkins from the takeout bags and pressing them into my hands.

I take them, swiping at my eyes, trying to pull myself together. But the second I try to speak, I shatter all over again, gasping for air.

Lexi and Jen drop to their knees in front of me, gripping my hands, their eyes full of worry.

“I—” I gasp. “I—”

Lexi squeezes my hand, grounding me. “Shh. Take your time.”

I slowly take a deep breath, then finally manage to force out the words that have been clawing at my throat.

“I’m—I’m in love with him.”

They both inhale sharply.

Jen climbs back onto the couch, cupping my face in her hands, her eyes filled with sympathy, and… understanding? “We know, sweetie.”

I blink through my tears. “You do?”

Lexi smirks. “Yep. It’s been a tiny bit obvious.” Then her expression softens, her voice gentle but sure. “More obvious? He’s been in love with you for a long while now.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “Then how could he just leave like this? He showed me who I was, made me fall in love with him… and then he just leaves?”

Lexi’s expression softens further. “People handle grief differently. He’ll realize this is silly and come back.”

I nod slowly, wiping my eyes again. “Wow. Some coming out party this is. I’m gay, if that part wasn’t clear.”

Jen lets out a small laugh and grabs my chin, turning my gaze to hers. “Hey. I’ve always seen every beautiful color in your rainbow, babes.” She hands me my tequila. “You know my gaydar is never wrong, but you could’ve been bi, pan, ace, or just into Chance.”

I chuckle weakly, a memory flooding in. “Well, that last one is very true. I told him I’m Chansexual.” The girls laugh as that now bittersweet memory floats through my mind. “But I’m now sure I’m gay. There’s just some things from my past that made me question it. Until he came along.”

Jen rubs my shoulder. “I figured. Working through that is more important than a label. You’ve taken some big steps, but I’m sure you have a lot more to work through.”

I let out a watery laugh. “Yeah. A fuck-ton more. Especially now. He unlocked every bolted door in my heart and then he left. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.”

Lexi hesitates before saying, “Tell me if I’m overstepping, but have you ever considered therapy? I think everyone should be in therapy. Life is fucking hard. I go weekly.”

I blink at her. “Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

I exhale. “I think I need to. I don’t want to shut down again. Whether he’s here or not.”

Lexi smiles. “Would you like the information for my therapist? He’s very good and quite reasonable. He specializes in young adults of color and the queer community, mostly.”

I nod. “Yeah, I’d like his information. Thanks, Lex.”

Two weeks have passed. No calls. No texts. Nothing. I texted Chance at least a hundred times the night of his last message.

Unread.

I tried calling him the morning after that shitty last message, but I got an automated response: “The number you called has been disconnected, changed, or is no longer in service.”

Out of necessity, I’ve fallen back into my routine: classes, preparing for graduation, working shifts at Devil Records. Everyone's been kind, but the constant looks of pity are starting to suffocate me.

I move around the kitchen, frying eggs, toasting bread, brewing coffee. My mind swirls with thoughts of Chance. How could he just vanish like that? How could he leave when he needed me by his side the most?

A knock at the door startles me. I wipe my hands on a towel and head over, Little G trotting beside me. When I open it, a middle-aged man stands there, holding a manila folder.

“You must be Anthony.”

I nod cautiously. “I am. Can I help you?”

The man puts out his hand. “My name is Mike. Mike Janovich. I'm the landlord.”

My stomach twists. Eviction. Without Chance here, I’m probably getting kicked out. I shake his hand anyway. “Hey, Mike, nice to, uh, meet you.” I step aside. “Would you like to come in?”

Mike glances down at Guinness, who’s sitting attentively by my feet. I quickly add, “Oh, don't worry about Little G, he's very friendly... uh, unless he's not on the lease, in which case, he's visiting. And very cranky.”

Mike chuckles. “He's on the lease, don’t stress. And yes, I’ll come in if you don’t mind. I need to go over some things with you.”

Confused, I shake my head and step aside, motioning him in. “Have a seat at the dining table. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just water, thanks.”

I grab a bottled water from the fridge and sit across from him at the table. He nods his thanks and gets straight to business.

“I got a call from someone named Murph. He was vague about circumstances, but said Chance wouldn’t be living here.”

I slump in my chair, bracing myself.

“This, uh, Murph, he asked if I would extend the lease by six months beyond the existing term, and add you as a tenant.”

I sit up, my elbows hitting the table. “That’s… I don’t understand why. It doesn’t really matter because I can’t afford the rent. I guess I just need to know how long I have to find a place to live.”

Mike shrugs. “Well, that’s the thing. They’ve paid the lease in its entirety. You’re set through November.”

I jolt upright. “Are you joking?”

“No, son, I’m not. All you need to do is sign the paperwork I brought. No need for a credit check since everything’s been paid, and I can see the place is kept clean with no visible damage.”

I rub my hands over my face, exhaling. “Well, that’s a huge load off my chest. Yeah, I’ll sign whatever you need as long as you’re sure.”

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. These units are family-owned. We understand circumstances. Just make sure you take care of the place.”

Relieved, I nod. “I will. Where do I sign?”

After signing, I walk Mike to the door. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. “Here’s my card. My cell number is on the back. Call or text if anything breaks down on you.”

I take the card with a grateful nod. “Thank you, I will.”

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, I let out a long breath and drop onto the couch. “What the fuck was that?” I mutter under my breath. My mind is spinning. I’m relieved I don’t have to scramble for a new place to live, but the whole thing is unsettling.

Murph. Chance’s friend from back home. He’s part of The Doves. And Mike had said they took care of it, not he took care of it. The Doves must have handled all this for Chance.

But why?

Why would he leave me here? Why, when I could have been there for him?

It makes no sense. And Guinness—how could he leave Little G?

The poor little guy has been looking for him, waiting for him.

I love this dog, and I will take care of him for the rest of his life, but dogs feel loss.

Anyone who doesn’t think so lacks a soul.

He knows something is wrong. He knows Chance is gone.

I shake my head, rubbing my hands over my face. If I see that man again, he’s getting a piece of my mind. I’m so fucking angry and hurt.

But more than anything, I miss him.

I miss the man who made me fall utterly, completely, and irrevocably in love.

That’s the part I may never get over.