Page 38 of After Midnight

She squeezes my shoulder again, then goes to sit next to Jordan. I don’t miss the fact that she leaves the space beside Lucas empty.

The darkness deepens around us, and the night grows quiet, with only the crackling flames, summer breeze through the palms, and Michael’s steady strumming on the guitar. River cuddles up next to me, and she lets me scratch her behind the ear, then wiggles her nose into the space between my shoulder and neck, making me laugh.

“Anyone want another drink?” Lucas asks as he stands from the couch, empty beer bottle in hand.

Casting a look at him, Alisha crosses her arms. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

Her question cuts through the easy vibe, and I’m pretty sure we’re all trying not to react. Nora’s eyes widen a bit, and one of Dex’s eyebrows inches up slowly. Even River and Nala lift their heads, like they could feel the tension in her voice.

Lucas’s eyes narrow as he looks down at her. There’s a moment of silence, Michael’s strumming having abruptly cut off.

“You tell me,” Lucas finally says, voice that low monotone that I know means he’s pushing his feelings down, locking them away so no one can see them. “You’ve obviously been keeping tabs.”

Now Alisha is glaring at him, her arms still crossed tight over her chest, as if she’s armoring herself against him.

Lucas lets out a small sound, something between a laugh and a scoff, then turns to walk away, his form a dark silhouette against the dim light bleeding out of my house.

For a second, we all sit there, no one speaking or moving.

Then Jordan says, “Come on, I wanna put my feet in the pool.”

Jordan pulls Alisha up, then links elbows with her, and they walk across my deck to the big heated in-ground swimming pool. With the spot next to Nora now free, Dex scoots over to sit beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as he pulls her close. River decides to abandon me to jump up onto the couch next to Dex, and he starts to trail a hand lazily down her head.

I look at Michael. When he meets my eyes, I gesture to the house with my head and say, “You think he’s okay?”

He gives a small shake of his head and resumes plucking at the guitar.

Yeah, I don’t think so either.

So I press up off the couch and pad across the deck, going to look for him. When I step through the open sliding glass door, I don’t see him in the kitchen or in the living room. But drifting through the dark is the gentle sound of piano keys.

I head to my music room.

The door is pushed halfway closed, and I ease through it, then close it behind me. Lucas is sitting at my grand piano, an ancient behemoth that’s pretty much my pride and joy. It was my grandmother’s. Dad wanted to get rid of it when she died; I ended up buying it from him since he refused to give it to me. Now it’ll always be safe with me.

Lucas doesn’t turn to look at me, just keeps pressing the keys, his shoulders hunched in the dark, his hair a pale splash of yellow in the thin moonlight coming through the window.

With a sigh, I move across the room, feet bare on the big rug underfoot, and sink into the plush armchair in the corner. Lucas still doesn’t say anything, so I sit there thinking about Remi until Lucas’s fingers finally slip from the keys.

In the quiet, I say, “You hiding in my cave now?”

He reaches for the beer bottle on the piano bench next to him and takes a long drink. After swallowing, he cuts a look over his shoulder at me. “I don’t hide.”

“Then what are you doing?” I sit forward in the chair, bracing my elbows on my knees. “And what the hell is going on with you and Alisha? You two never get at each other like that.”

Lucas’s jaw flexes in the moonlight, making the snake that’s inked into his throat look like it’s slithering across his skin. He’s quiet for so long that I’m certain he’s not going to respond—which wouldn’t surprise me.

I’ve known this guy for a long time, since we were in school, and we’ve been through hell together, including surviving our awful fathers. And for a while, he’s been getting better, opening up more. Alisha has been a big part of that. So seeing him sitting in the dark, drinking alone, makes dread curl inside me.

I don’t want to see him slip back into that place. It’s way too fucking painful.

“We’re fine,” he says at long last. Then he lifts the beer bottle and finishes it off in a few swigs. Pushing to his feet, he says, “I’m out. See you at the studio.”

He holds his fist out to me, and I bump it. But as he heads for the door, I stand and say, “Let me give you a ride.”

He glances at me over his shoulder. And I’m certain he’s about to tell me to fuck off.

But then his shoulders rise and fall in a sigh, and he says softly, “Fine.”