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Al thean umbrella over his head while he reads from his holy book

Yet, there’s one man who doesn’t see his clothes until they’re dark and heavy He can’t be comfortable, but he doesn’t appear to care

Taller than everyone else, his head pokes out above the dark u, I can’t tell Droplets of water shower down on him and drip down his entire body—his dark hair, his somber face, his collared black shirt that sticks wetly to his hard body

I’ to hell for this, I think toup his rolled-up sleeves and settling on his muscular, tattooed forear out an old one-night-stand, not even if all I feel like doing now is cry on his broad shoulder

But I can’t deny it’s almost impossible not to notice Luca today

He stands apart Although ether as close as their umbrellas will let them, there’s at least three feet of space between him and the next person Thanks to his myriad of tattoos and ex-convict status, the townsfolk are distrustful of him

To be fair, Ashbourne is a small town that’s suspicious of any outsiders, especially those who keep to themselves

That was probably why he got along so ith my brother They were both misfits

Luca doesn’t scare h In fact, it was probably those bad-boy vibes that grabbedI did it for the thrill

I do a quick mental calculation He must be thirty-one now

He’s let his facial hair grow Dark shadows line his strong jawline, his chin, and the bit of skin above his lips

Like h that’s probably just a terief He’s just lost his best friend, and it shows He slouches his shoulders and stares blankly at the grave It’s like only his body is here

Except he suddenly turns his gaze onmy heart until the beats compete with the pitter-patter of raindrops all around us

What’s wrong with me?

Those green eyesI forgot how intense they are It’s alht in that brilliant head of his In this glooreener than the blades of wet grass underfoot, or the leaves on the trees lining the perimeter of this cemetery