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“I should go,” I say, reaching for my wallet. “I have to drive out to the botanical gardens.”
Lucas glances up to look at me, and I do my best to keep my expression neutral. It’s a trick I learned a long time ago. Never let someone see you upset. It’s just ammunition for them to use against you later.
Even though I know logically Lucas wouldn’t do that, my heart’s not getting on board. Because the part of me still stuck in old foster homes and my birth home remembers what a bad idea it is to be vulnerable around someone. Even if that person only ever showed me kindness.
“Don’t worry about the meal,” Lucas says. “I got it.”
I pull a twenty out anyway. I’ve been paying for my own stuff for a long time, and just like with the car, I don’t like the idea of owing Lucas anything.
His gaze flicks from the bill I place on the table up to my eyes. Then a sad smile pulls at his lips. “Well, I guess this is goodbye then.”
I swallow and give him a nod, then turn and start for the door. But before I make it too far from the table, I can’t stop myself from turning back to find him watching me still.
Six
Lucas
My mind’s still on Shawn when I get to my parents’ house for dinner the next night. I haven’t heard from him since we had lunch at the diner, and I hate that I’m wishing he would get in touch with me. I left my number with him, but he never gave me his.
I wish I didn’t miss him so much. I wish he’d just tell me why he really left.
With a sigh, I get out of the car and climb the familiar porch steps to my parents’ house. They talked about moving out after Natalie died, but they never did. I think it was too hard for them to entertain the idea of living somewhere Natalie had never been.
It nearly killed me to move out after college. I had been terrified I would forget everything about my sister if I no longer lived in the room across the hall from hers.
The door opens before I’ve had the chance to ring the bell, and Mom envelops me in a hug. “Lucas, it’s so good to see you.”
She says it every time, as if I’ve been away for weeks. As if we don’t have dinner together every few days. But like every time, I just give her a smile and kiss her cheek and tell her it’s good to see her too.
Dad greets me at the entrance to the kitchen with a glass of scotch in hand. “It’s good to see you, son.”
“It’s good to see you too, Dad.”
Mom comes up behind me and pats my shoulder. “Dinner’s already on the table.”
“Sorry I’m late.” I move with them into the kitchen and pull out my usual chair at the old wooden table. Natalie’s initials are carved into the wood where she used to sit—something she did when we were children and arguing over who got to sit where. Even though I couldn’t have stopped her getting sick or dying, sometimes I catch myself wondering if I had given her more, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten sick in the first place.
“Lucas?” Mom calls my name, and from the tone of her voice, it doesn’t sound like it was the first time she tried to get my attention.
“Yeah?” I look up from my plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I don’t even remember serving myself this food. Sometimes that happens when I’m thinking about Natalie.
“You look different. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I just… I saw someone this week I hadn’t seen in a long time. Shawn Whittiker.”
Dad frowns. “That foster kid who stayed with us a while?”
Mom’s eyes turn sad. “I always wondered what happened to him. Why he left.”
“You know why he left,” Dad says, his voice cold. “He couldn’t handle what was happening.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I say, stirring my gravy around without taking a bite. “He seemed genuinely upset when he realized that’s why I thought he ran away.”
Mom tsks. “I can’t believe you said that to him. As if he hasn’t already been through enough.”
“He’s a man now,” Dad says. “Not a child anymore. He should be able to have an adult conversation.”
I glance up from my plate. “Jeez, Dad. Don’t hold anything back.”
