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Hedoesn’t move for a while.Iclose my eyes and turn my back to him.Whenhe finally gets up and slips away, it’s almost silently.Thedoor latches, and my own remorse creeps in because soon the hunger will consume me.I’llhave to find a way to release a soul soIcan feed.Ican’t abide the idea of looking for hospitals or retirement homes.Rightnow,Iwant to wallow inEvan’scocktail of emotions and the love he is attempting to disconnect from his soul.
22
Luke
MaybeIshould have called, or at least texted first, butIwanted to seeEvan.Ididn’t want him to avoid me anymore…orRachelfor that matter.Shehas been quiet and withdrawn all week, not thatIhaven’t been exactly the same.Istill haven’t recovered from the nightIkicked him out.
Ifeel…numb.
Ithurts that he can’t give himself fully to me, butI’mnot going to lose our friendship because of it.
Thesun is setting asIpull up to theLogan’shouse.AfterIcut the engine,Itake a few moments to collect myself.Ihaven’t decided whatI’mgoing to say, other than thatI’msorry for asking for more than he was ready to give.
Movementcatches my attention.Mr.Loganhas come out onto the front porch.Iget out of my truck and climb the steps, stopping one step below the porch where he stands waiting for me.
“Luke.Howare you doing?” he asks.
Itip my hat and take it off my head. “Fine, sir.IsEvanhome?”
Hiseyebrows raise in surprise. “Youcame to seeEvan?”
“Ishe not here?”
Helooks away from me and sticks his thumb through one of the belt loops on his jeans. “Son,Evanis gone.”
“Gone?”
Mr.Loganshakes his head as if he’s disappointed. “Heleft forChicagoalmost a week ago.Arrivedthere a couple of days ago.”
Myheart drops.Itake one step down, feeling pulled to the ground. “Chicago?”
“Well, yeah.Damn, if anyone would know whereEvanwas, it would be you.Ifind it hard to believe you didn’t know.”
Ilet out a breath, trying to restart my heart, but it only makes my chest hurt. “We…uh…shit.”Irub my hand over my forehead trying to sort my thoughts. “Wehad an argument, andI’vebeen sick…in bed so…Iwas too sick to call him.Ididn’t know.”
“Well, that explains that.”
“Explainswhat?”Myheart makes one heavy thud in my chest, reminding meI’mnot dead.
Hefolds his arms across his chest. “Hedidn’t seem like himself.Couldn’twait to get toChicago.Hismother andIwanted him to at least stay through the summer, but once he found an apartment, nothing was going to get in his way.Whenhe seemed so down and distracted,Ithought maybe he was having second thoughts about leaving.Icouldn’t have been more wrong because he left as soon as he got his things packed in his truck.”
Godhelp me!Isthis really happening?AmIstill loopy from that fever?
“Youokay,Luke?”
“Huh?”Ifinally look into his eyes.
Helifts his chin gesturing to me.Ilook down at my hand.I’mrubbing at my chest so hard, it’s a wonder my left breast pocket is still there.Ican’t even stop myself from trying to ease the pain in my heart.Ithurts so damn much.
“Heleft?”Iwheeze out.
Hedoesn’t answer at first. “Doyou want to come inside and sit down for a few minutes?You’rewhite as a sheet.”
“Na…no…”Mybrain is a stuttering mess. “ButcouldImaybe go upstairs?Tohis room?IthinkIleft my pocketknife last timeIwas here.Can’tfind it anywhere.”
Heis staring at me, andIwonder if it’s because he knows thatI’mlying.Hetakes a few steps back and nods toward the front door. “Sure.Goon up.Notmuch left up there.”
Imanage a thank you beforeIenter the house and bound up the stairs.Iam not prepared for how bare his room looks.Thefurniture is all still there, as well as things of his that he hasn’t touched in years; a smallNerfbasketball hoop attached to his bedroom door, a record player he paid a mint for because vinyl suddenly became a hot commodity, little trinkets like a cast iron tractor, football trophies as far back as middle school, and a series of sci-fi books he read.Thereused to be a few photo frames on his desk.Nowthere is only one.It’sthe photo of us when we were fifteen and sixteen.Hisparents had bought him the pickup he’d been dreaming about.Theywere too excited to wait until his birthday.
