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He nods but doesn’t say anything else.
“I’m still your friend, Lucas,” I say, the words full of conviction.
Despite everything, I can’t not be his friend. Once upon a time, before a stupid kiss and Jeremy dying and twelve years of silence… he was my whole world. And I’ll never not love that boy who jumped my fence to escape his father’s fists.
Finally, he speaks. “Michelle and my aunts and uncle are flying in Thursday night and Friday morning. A private rehab facility in Boise is going to work with us to stage an intervention Friday afternoon. My mom is, uh… she’s pretty sick. If she doesn’t stop drinking, she’s going to die.”
My mouth drops. I grab his arm, barely feeling the muscles tense under my fingers. “Shit.”
His lips curl. “That about sums it up.”
“I’m so sorry.” I want to hug him but have no idea what the boundaries are between us right now. What it would mean. What I’d want it to mean. So I focus on what I can do. “What do you need from me right now?”
He shakes his head before dropping it between his knees. “A dangerous question, Peapod.”
My body flashes cold, then hot. “I was thinking along the lines of a buoy race. Or better yet, I’m sure there’s stuff in the Art Barn we can destroy with hammers.”
He looks up, a sad smile twisting his lips. “I know. Forget I said that.” He sighs and stares at the water. “I haven’t been sleeping much.”
I swallow a hard knot of worry. “You should go home. Get some rest. Billy doesn’t really need us here, anyway.”
“I can’t. I need to work. To do something.”
I’m at a loss until I look north along the shore, spying a glint of glass. Sudden adrenaline brings me to my feet. Pins and needles attack my right foot, which I shake spastically until Lucas’s eyebrows lift.
“I’ve been sitting for hours. Let’s go for a walk.”
Lucas blinks up at me. “A walk?”
I nod decisively. “I’ll drop my laptop in the trailer, and then you can show me the old caretaker’s cabin. No work. Just walking. Then you’re going to go home and sleep.”
He stares at me another moment. “Feeling bossy today, are we?” His voice is dangerously low. I ignore the sizzle of heat down my spine, swirling in my breasts and between my legs.
Surprisingly, I’m not daunted. His teasing is familiar ground.
I smirk. “I’ve always been bossy.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Lucas stands. “Ain’t that the truth.” He bows, waving an arm with flourish. “After you, your majesty.”
I smother a smile. “Weirdo.”
I’m halfway to the path when his murmur catches up to my ears.
“Your weirdo.”
My chest compresses, pinching my heart.
I keep walking.
30
After five minutes of walking, I realize I have two options: either distract myself from the frankly pornographic thoughts I’m having about Celeste—who walks next to me blissfully unaware of how many times I’ve unclothed her in my head—or distract myself.
“So… do your parents hate me?”
She jerks a little, like the sound of my voice surprised her. I try and fail not to wonder what thoughts she was lost in. Is she wishing she were anywhere else but with me? Was the best night of my life her worst?
Between the uncertainty of my mom’s future and the clusterfuck of my relationship with Celeste, I’m a fucking wreck. I didn’t lie—I’ve barely slept the last two nights.
