AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A little bird — yellow as the muscle car it had just come to perch on — let out a sharp squawk as it danced about the top of the convertible’s door. Then it tilted its head to side-eye Luke in a way that seemed oddly familiar.
He knew this little bird.
And she appeared to know him.
Luke reached out, smiling as he gave her silky feathers a tentative stroke and she continued to chirp.
But when he removed his hand, his fingers had left ugly patches of red in their wake.
Luke’s eyes flew open. Flailing an arm out to silence the loud buzzing coming from somewhere near his head, he managed to crack an elbow on the edge of his nightstand. “Son of a bitch,” he swore as tingly needles of pain shot up his limb.
Then he couldn’t help but laugh. Because Andy really was messing with his head.
Luke supposed, in this instance, he should be grateful. Usually, when he had the dream of the day his father died, it jumped straight from that scene in the garage with his dad’s ’Vette to the fight between his parents later that night, Luke’s brain arranging and rearranging bits and pieces from that violent encounter like some terrifying jigsaw puzzle.
He’d get a flash of his father backhanding his mother. Another flash of her pleading with the man as he held his favorite Bowie knife to her cheek, threatening to “ruin her pretty face” the way she’d ruined his stupid car. Then the dream would flip, and suddenly Luke’s mother wasn’t the one cowering under the sharp edge of a blade. She was the one holding it.
Then there was just blood.
So much of it.
Dripping down his mother’s hands. Pooling on the braided area rug he and Mary used to stretch out on while watching cartoons. Seeping from his father’s neck as he lay on that carpet.
That’s the part in the dream that used to have Luke pissing his sheets at night.
Prior to his death, Luke’s father had hated all Luke’s bed-wedding, had used to punish him for it with cutting words and by refusing to let anyone change the soiled linens. Making him sleep in it. Which, of course, had only made the problem worse.
After his death, the cold, bloody memory of his father still had Luke wetting himself at least once a week till he was nearly nine.
But his mother had been patient with him. She’d been kind. And she’d quietly changed the sheets every single time. Until one day, it had just stopped happening. And so had the night terrors.
Come to think of it now, the dreams really hadn’t started disrupting his sleep again until after his mother’s death. Yeah, it didn’t take a psych degree to sort out the event had triggered some unresolved daddy issues for him.
But fuck it. And his giant dickbag of a dad. Luke was a grown man now. And he had his shit — and his piss, for that matter — together.
The buzzing coming from his phone had given way to a soft chirp, and as Luke’s mouth stretched from a yawn to a grin, he wondered idly if it might be Creeper texting him. They’d exchanged numbers after her closing shift on Friday, Andy telling him he could message her anytime if he thought of more lessons for her.
More lessons.Jesus. What else was he going to come up with to teach her? And how in the hell had he let her talk him into this crap in the first place?
But even as he swung his legs from the bed, Luke knew the answer to that one.
It was those eyes of hers.
And perhaps, it was also because she was a distraction. A verydifferentsort than the women Luke was used to amusing himself with. For one thing, his first instinct wasn’t to get into her pants. Which were boner-killers, for sure, but that was beside the point.
The point was he didn’t want to bang this chick. He kinda just wanted to talk to her. Get in her head the same way she was getting in his. At the weird direction of his thoughts, Luke swiped his phone from the nightstand.
Dylan:Fine, bro, don’t pick up. We’re hitting LT again. Your ass can sleep in. You probably need the beauty rest anyway cuz you been lookin wrecked lately. Eat your damn oatmeal and do some yoga. Catch you later. Mahalo.
Luke snorted. LT was Lower Trestles, another popular SoCal surfing destination. After finally catching up on special orders in the shop, he and Dylan had spent Saturday there with Kyle. While the competition in the surf zone had been fierce due to its small take-off area, they’d all managed to catch a few quality point-break waves. Enough to satisfy Luke anyway.
Apparently, his friends had decided to chase after more of those perfect, glassy A-frames. They could have them. Luke was in no mood to duke it out with all the surf pros that frequented the hot spot.
On the other hand, after having the dream again, he was also no longer in the mood for sleep.
Truth be told, Luke wasn’t entirely sure what he was in the mood for this fine Sunday morning.
But oatmeal sounded good.
