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“Where is that little fuck?”
There was a muffled sob, then his mother’s voice. “Maybe he went for a walk? He didn’t mean to leave the freezer open. Nothing was spoiled.”
“That doesn’t matter,” growled Mr. Adler. “He still needs to be taught a lesson.”
Their voices lowered and the back door slammed closed.
A few moments of thick silence later, Lucas said, “I didn’t leave the freezer open.”
My chest squeezed, my heart dropping as I processed what he meant.
He continued, “There’s a bottle of vodka hidden in the freezer. Hers. That shit about vodka not smelling like anything? It’s bullshit. I smell it on her sometimes when I get home. I smelled it tonight.”
I didn’t want to say the words but knew I had to. “She’s blaming you for something she did?”
He grunted an affirmative.
“Lucas…” I whispered, swallowing past a dry throat. I wanted to tell him so many things. I wanted to make it okay. But I’d learned over the years that he didn’t want to hear it. There was no fixing this. So I said, “Want to stay here tonight?”
His eyes found mine and lingered. “Can I sleep in your bed with you?”
I blinked. Blinked again. My mouth dropped open, then closed. Lightning streaked under my skin, zinging from my stomach to my fingers and toes. I was grateful for the shadows because I was sure my face was bright red.
“I’m kidding, Peapod.” But his eyes stayed on mine, and they weren’t laughing. Finally, he looked away and sighed. “But yeah, I’ll stay. If it’s okay with your parents.”
“You know it is,” I managed to say.
He nodded.
I shifted restlessly. “Is Michelle okay?”
“Yeah, she’s okay. We have a system. Whenever he starts ramping up, I go in her room and give her my tablet and headphones. She knows not to take them off until Mom comes to tuck her in.”
“Are you okay?”
His arm tightened around my shoulders, smooshing me against his body. He was warm now. It was almost too warm under the blanket, but I didn’t say anything.
“I’m always okay when I’m with you, Peapod.”
“Stay right there.”
A quick glance down reveals Lucas aiming his phone up at me. I roll my eyes and turn back to the final flourishes on the last letter of the sign.
My arms are burning like the flames of Hell and my back is in knots from balancing on the ladder, but I’m beyond tickled by the result. With fresh paint and new, updated colors, camp wild lake shines.
“Done!” I proclaim. Sticking my brush between my teeth, I grab the messy palette and slowly make my way down. By the time I reach the ground, my legs are shaking. I drop the brush into a water-filled bucket Lucas fetched earlier. “I’m never doing that again.”
Lucas grins. “I rather enjoyed it.”
I grace him with a coy smile as I close the distance between us. His eyes heat, then widen with beautiful, authentic shock as I slap the paint-smeared palette to his bare chest.
“How about now? Still enjoying it?” I casually smear the plastic plate over his pecs and down his stomach.
“Do you and Damien want to come over for dinner?”
I freeze. A greenish-yellow blob drips from his collarbone and splats onto my hand. His expression matches his voice—nervous—and I actually feel the blood drain from my face, heavy and viscous as it vacates my brain. A memory floats forward of the time Lucas cracked three large eggs on my head. It feels a bit like that. Only a lot worse.
A wave of dizziness hits, then passes. I wish I could blame it on the paint fumes.
