Page 163 of Until August

I knew the answer.

I would do anything for the people I loved.

Even if it meant I had to break my own heart in the process.

CHAPTERFIFTY-EIGHT

Nicola

June

“All I’m saying is that August made you happy,” Luca said from his spot at my kitchen island. “And he seemed a hell of a lot happier when he was with you.”

“Since when do you care about my love life?”

“I don’t. But is it a crime to care if my sister is happy?”

“No,” I hedged. “August seems unhappy?” Not that I wanted him to be miserable.

Luca shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far. Why don’t you stop by his food truck and see for yourself?”

“I can’t.” I taped up a box of dishes and labeled it with my Sharpie, then grabbed another box and knelt on the floor, packing my pots and pans from the cupboard.

“Why not? What’s stopping you?”

I paused and looked over at Luca, who was stuffing his face with a breakfast burrito.

“Damn. This is good. Want one?” He reached into the brown paper bag on the counter and held up a wrapped burrito. “I brought one for you too.”

“Where did you get it?”

“August.” He took another big bite and talked around a mouthful. “He makes them for Sage.”

A pang of longing shot through me. I missed them both so much that it physically ached. But I especially missed August. His smile. His laughter. His big, strong hands. His loving arms. I missed everything about him. “You stole an eight-year-old’s breakfast? How low will you go?”

Luca scowled. “August made extras. This one’s for you.”

I took it from his hand and sat on a stool across from him. It wouldn’t hurt to take a short break from packing. I’d started weeks ago, so the kitchen was the last thing left to do. “Did he make it just for me?” I asked, inspecting the burrito before biting into it.

“Yeah, he did.”

I might have moaned a little when I took the first bite. Scrambled eggs, sharp cheddar, black beans, avocado, cilantro, salsa… Honey dribbled down my chin, and I wiped it away and licked it off my index finger. The burrito was spicy with a hint of sweetness from the honey.

“Said he used wild honey,” Luca said. “Collected it himself.”

“He did?” I tried to picture August gathering honey from the bees. “Like with the whole suit and all?”

“Yeah.” Luca laughed. “It’s his new thing. He’s obsessed with honey.”

Honey Bun. He used to tell me I tasted like honey.

I took a few more bites before I set it on the foil wrapper and slid it in front of Luca. “You can have the rest. I’m good.”

Luca didn’t even put up a fight. He scarfed it down in two seconds flat, then rubbed his hand over his stomach as I went back to packing. Which was supposedly the reason Luca had stopped by this morning. To help me finish packing. He’d moved out of my house in January and got his own place.

“Get off your lazy ass. The movers are coming tomorrow.”

“Fine. What do you need? You want me to help with the kitchen?”