Page 48
I want him to know he’s worth watching, too, but he’s probably already figured that much out. I can barely look away when he enters the room.
* * *
It’s raining when my shift ends. I walk outside to find Luke waiting in the Jeep. He tells me he just happened to be here.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I tell him. “I’m used to biking in the rain.”
He hands me a towel from the back seat to dry my damp head. “You shouldn’t have to get used to hard things, Jules.”
Except he won’t always be around. Whether I’m still in Rhodes or somewhere else, I’m going to have to fend for myself eventually.
He’s silent as we start down the road, and then he glances at me. “My mom is like that.” His voice is quieter than it was. “She was used to my dad being a drunk, and when she finally left, she married a guy who was worse, and I think it was mostly because he seemed so familiar. Another useless drunk.”
“There’s a pretty big difference between being someone who marries alcoholics and someone who’s willing to bike home in the rain.”
His mouth twitches. “I meant that she was used to hard things. I don’t want you thinking it has to be like that too.”
“Do you…still talk to them?” I bite my lip. “Sorry. You don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want.”
“I’m an open book.”
I laugh. “No one is less of an open book than you, Luke.”
A smile flickers over his face. “For you, I’m an open book. And no, I don’t still talk to them. But I have an older sister. I talk to her sometimes.”
“I can’t imagine you as anyone’s little brother.”
“Oh, believe me, I was. She still teases me about Mr. Maple, this stuffed animal I used to carry everywhere.”
He’s turned the heater on for me and the car is now cozy inside, the rhythmic back and forth of the wipers surprisingly soothing. “You named a stuffed animal Mr. Maple?”
His mouth twitches. “I’d spilled syrup on him.”
I picture a little Luke, carrying a stuffed animal around by the ear in footie pajamas. I hate that the tiny version of him had to suffer.
“Do you miss them?”
He shrugs. “My mom, yeah, though I don’t know why. You know what my last memory is of her? Her hunting under the couch for a tooth my stepfather knocked out. And then her taking his fucking side when I kicked his ass.”
My heart aches. I know exactly how alone he must have felt because I lived it.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, letting my hand rest over the top of his for a moment before I pull it back. “Believe me, I know what it’s like to have your mom take the wrong person’s side.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I figured. That’s why you allowed yourself to wind up with the Allens.”
We pull into the neighborhood—our ride is nearly over and I don’t want it to be.
“How’s the GoFundMe?” I ask, though I know. I check it every morning.
He slows as he turns onto the Allens’ street. “Forty dollars. And most of that’s from you.”
“Not enough to buy four professional quality surfboards then?”
He grins. “They’re like a grand apiece. So close, but not quite.”
We pull into the driveway. He tips his chin toward the house. “Go inside so you don’t get soaked. I’ll get your bike.”
“Then you’ll get soaked.”
