by Rae, Nikita
“What’s going on?”
“Some FBI bitch just booted me out. She was a real bulldog.”
Luke bites his lip, staring at the closed investigation room door in front of us. He hands me a coffee. I take it, my hands still shaking. “We can’t leave him in here, Luke. I know he’s got nothing to do with this. We have to get him a lawyer.”
A crease forms in between Luke’s brows. Something’s up. He looks…anxious. “I got that covered. I just made a call.”
“Okay.” I don’t say anything else. I know there’s more coming, something he doesn’t want to tell me. “I contacted the legal firm on file as Brandon’s representation.”
“Right. When are they getting here? Which agency is it?”
Luke visibly blanches. “They’ll be here first thing in the morning. And the agency is…it’s Harrod, Whitt, St. French,” he rushes out.
Those three names are like individual explosions in my ears. Harrod. Whitt. St. French.
Shit.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Luke flinches. “Yeah, I’m sorry babe. Your mom is on her way.”
SURPRISINGLY, THERE aren’t any rules about lawyers representing family members. The phrase, conflict of interest is bandied around inside the station as Luke and I depart, but there’s nothing the cops or the FBI can do about it. I leave with a ten-ton weight sitting in my gut. My mom is on her way from New York to defend Brandon. I feel sick just thinking about seeing her back in Break. I have no idea what Luke had to say to even get her to agree. She cares for Brandon about as much as she cares about me as far as I can tell. And that isn’t very much.
Night is closing in by the time we step outside. We’d hopped on the first plane out of the city when we’d woken up, and as such we don’t even have a car. It is freezing cold, snowing, and we’re using one of Brandon’s old beaters from his auto mechanics shop to get us around. Luke opens my door for me, his manners still somehow functioning amidst all the madness of the last twelve hours. “My mom—” he starts, then shakes his head.
“What? Your mom what?”
“Ahh, she said we should go by there for dinner tonight.” He grimaces, like he suspects how badly I just want to be alone. There’s a faintly hopeful glimmer in his eye, too, though. I suddenly hits me how good he’s been since this morning when we heard about my uncle. He booked our flights; he called into work and told them he couldn’t make his shifts for a couple of days; he drove me across New York in the mid-morning traffic so I could pick up clothes and toiletries from Columbia. He basically held me together the whole day, when I was on the verge of falling apart. The least I can do is go eat with his mother.
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “We can go.”
Surprise, then happiness forms on his face. “We don’t need to hang around. We can leave straight afterwards.”
I shake my head. “It’s all right. You didn’t see her at Thanksgiving. You should spend some time with her.”
We make our way across Break, my stomach churning the whole time. I’ve only been gone five months but it feels like an eternity. Like the place should have changed dramatically in the time I’ve been gone, because heaven knows I have. And yet the bowling lane, the shooting club where both Luke’s dad and mine had been members, the convenience store, the diner with its infamous thick shakes…everything still stands where it did half a year ago. Luke drives the long way from the police station to his mom’s house, and I know exactly why. The quickest route takes us past Breakwater High, the sprawling institution where I spent four of the worst years of my life. Luke’s smart enough to know I will probably burst into tears if I have to see it again. I grip hold of his hand as we pull up outside a ranch style home that I’ve driven past many times, knowing that it’s where he grew up, but never having been inside.
“Does…” I draw in a deep breath. “Does your mom know about…” Ugh, why can’t I just say it? This is strangely awkward.
Luke smiles softly. “About us? I don’t think so, no.”
I don’t know if that is a relief or just something else to worry about. Are we expected to go in there and explain our complicated relationship to Luke’s mom now, too, on top of how my uncle has been arrested?
“Hey, don’t look so freaked out. My mom’s a sweetheart. She won’t ask questions if you don’t want her to.” Luke crooks a finger under my chin, turning so I have to look at him. He’s wearing a tense expression, worry all over his face. His deep brown eyes are studiously scouring me, searching to see if I am okay. He has a six o’clock shadow after not shaving this morning in our rush to get to the airport on time, and it makes him look older. How I can still feel small next to him, silly and girlish, with everything that is going on was a mystery. But I do. He’s seriously hot. Not to mention loving and patient and kind. I feel myself welling up just looking at him.
“Hey. Hey, what’s up?” he whispers.
“I just…I do not deserve you. I’ve been a complete bitch to you, Luke. I’ve been ungrateful and selfish and a massive pain in the ass, and you didn’t deserve any of it.”
“You have been a massive pain in the ass, yes.” He smirks casually, and two fat tears roll down my face. He brushes them away tenderly, making me want to cry even harder. “But we’re both a little broken, you and I. I see you, Avery. I really see you, the places you’re wounded, and I want to be the person to put you back together. I know you still need some time to disassociate me and with everything that’s happened here, but I’m willing to wait. I want that so bad.”
I can’t control it any longer. Luke saying those words, it’s like a levy breaking inside me. Tears slip freely down my face, burning my eyes. “You’re right. I am broken, and somehow you do see me. I want to see you, too, Luke. I want to be the person to hold you together, too. I don’t just associate you with what happened here anymore.”
He sucks in a deep breath and it catches in his throat. His eyes swim with emotion. “That’s good.” It’s like a huge pressure has been released from his body. A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. It’s adorably sexy.
“Yeah, now I associate you with alcohol and really hot sex, too.”
Luke barks out laughter, but turns to look away from me. He covers his mouth, leaning against the car window, while staring at his family home. A heaviness lays over him that I feel like a tangible force. Somehow I’ve said the wrong thing. He stabs his fingers through his hair, pulling himself upright before I can ask if he is okay.
“All right,” he says. “Time to go meet my mom.”
******
I’ve met Mrs. Reid a million times before, of course. Breakwater is small and she’s on the PTA, plus she owns a bakery in town that everyone buys their baked goods from. The front door opens before Luke can insert his key, and all five foot nothing of the tiny woman rushes out to meet us.
“Thank god you’re here! There’s a huge snowstorm on its way in. I was worried you were gonna get stuck.” She grabs a fistful of Luke’s shirt and tugs him down to hug her slim frame before he can even open his mouth. Locked in her embrace, he groans, but it’s all for show. His mom fixes eyes with me over his shoulder and smiles. “Iris Breslin, you look more like your father every day. Come here.” She pulls me into a tight hug, too, startling me.
No one, no one, in Break ever speaks to me about my father, let alone tells me I look like him. A lump bobs in my throat. They feel to me like the kindest words she could possibly have said.
“Good to see you, Mrs. Reid,” I wheeze. The little woman has a strong grip on her. She draws back, holding me at arms’ length, studying me. Her brown eyes are the same color as Luke’s. Just as warm.
“Don’t be silly. You’re not in school anymore. You can call me Laney. Come on, come in before you two catch pneumonia.”
The house smells like cinnamon and fresh pine, two aromas that probably shouldn’t go together but do. There’s a stack of mail by the front door, unopened, and an ironing board propped
against a closet in the entryway. Laney leads us into the kitchen where she’s obviously been folding laundry. There is a neat stack of clothes on the kitchen table, a huge pine thing that dominates the room. You can tell that this is the hub of the house, as any baker’s kitchen should be. The place is lived in, welcoming—a home. My mind instantly flickers to my mom’s sterile brownstone and I can’t help but make the comparison. Her place reflects how cold and empty my mom is, whereas Luke’s family home is a reflection of Laney, loving and warm.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour. Why don’t you two grab a beer and keep me company while I finish up?” She points at the basket of unfolded clothing at her feet. Luke glances at me—is this okay?— before I nod and sit myself down in at the kitchen table. He smiles a little, slings his coat over the back of a chair opposite and makes his way over to the fridge.
“Why don’t you grab me one, too, son?” Laney says. She hands me an armful of washing, winking, including me in her chore. The gesture is small and might have annoyed some people, but it’s a kind thing to do. She is giving me a purpose, telling me I am welcome, accepting me, even if she doesn’t realize I’m having sex with her son. I pick up a t-shirt and started folding, smiling.
Luke raises an eyebrow when he sees me. He sets down three beers and then proceeds to smack the caps off on the edge of the worn table. Laney doesn’t seem to mind. My mom would freak if I put down a bottle without a coaster, let alone tried to open it on the countertop. “I see you’re putting your guests to good use, Mom. What did your other slave die of? Where is my little sister, anyway?”
“Staying with friends tonight. She didn’t know you were coming back. You’ll see her in the morning, though.” Laney pulls on her beer between folding, taking a surprisingly big draught. Luke makes an awkward face.
“Ah, actually, I was gonna stay up at Brandon’s place with Avery. Just to make sure she’s not snowed in in the morning.”
Laney puts down her beer bottle, looking from her son to me and back again. “Neither of you are staying up at that place. What if I’m snowed in in the morning?”
“Uhhh… well…” Luke is a little lost for words.
I don’t know why but I find myself telling her, “That’s okay, I’d love to stay.”
Laney nods, like it was already a foregone conclusion. “Good. I’ve made up the bed in your room, Luke. You can both go dump your stuff in a moment before I serve dinner.”
Luke and I exchange glances but don’t say a word. When Laney is done with the laundry, we do as she suggested and go to drop our overnight bags in Luke’s room. And there it is: his double bed, freshly made, two towels folded neatly on top of it, a spare toothbrush still in the packaging on top of the pink one. Clearly meant for me.
“I thought you said you hadn’t told her anything,” I hiss, whacking his arm. Luke shakes his head.
“I swear I didn’t. She just knows things. She’s like freaking yoda. I got away with nothing as a kid.”
Dinner is surprisingly easy to get through, considering. Laney talks endlessly about Luke’s sister, Emma, and that is another kindness on her part. She knows without being told that I don’t want to talk about Brandon sitting in a jail cell as we enjoy our beer and homemade lasagna, and also somehow knows the topic of my fragile relationship with Luke is off the table, too. He was right; the woman really does just know things. The only sore topic she brings up is my mother.
“I hear Amanda’s on her way, then,” she announces casually, but I’d have to be blind to miss the curious look in her eye. She’s watching me, waiting to see how I will react. It is public record that my mom up and abandoned me to move to the city as soon as humanly possible after my dad died. No one really asked me whether her actions bothered me, though. That’s what Laney is doing when she watches me now. She is asking to see if my mom’s presence is okay, if I am okay with her showing up.
“Uh, yeah. She’s catching a red eye first thing.” I take a long drink from my bottle to hide my discomfort. “I didn’t even know she was my uncle’s lawyer, to be honest.”
“Yes, well. I’m pretty sure your mother would jump through a burning ring of fire for Brandon, sweetie.”
That comment catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing. They were close in high school is all. Inseparable, in fact. I always thought your mom had a bit of a thing for Brandon. Mind you, your mom and dad, plus Melanie and Brandon, all four of them were thick as thieves. We could never really work out who was with who half the time.”
“Mom!” Luke looks horrified. The casual way she imparts the information that my mom might have had a thing with Brandon once upon a time makes it sound completely obvious. The look on her face says so, too. She puts down her fork and grins at Luke.
“Son, I didn’t raise you to be a prude. In fact I know you’re not, so you just calm yourself. I’m not speaking ill of the dead. Melanie and Max were good people. I think they just married wrong is all.”
I pick up a forkful of lasagna, my eyes on my plate. “I’m not sure Brandon and my mom are as close as you remember them, Laney. I don’t think she speaks to him unless it’s about me. And that’s not very often.” The email she sent me and copied Brandon into was testimony to that. She couldn’t even be bothered to write him a separate message.
“Pain does strange things to people, darling girl. Just because Amanda distances herself from people doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about them.” The hidden message in that statement is barely hidden at all. I almost choke on my food with how badly I want to laugh. I manage to hold it in, though. Laney is just trying to be nice, and I don’t want to offend her. Or scandalize her with the news that my mother now prefers women over men. We eat our meal and then Luke and I wash the dishes while Laney watches The Voice. Every minute or so Luke brushes a hand across my back, tucks my hair back out of my eyes, touches me in some way to let me know he’s there and everything is normal.
And it is normal. It’s how life should be, doing domesticated things as part of a family. It’s nice, and almost takes my mind off Brandon and my dad and the nightmare waiting for me when I get back to Columbia. I mean, shit. I have Tate’s funeral to attend, Morgan to comfort, and Noah to deal with. Oh God, Noah. I haven’t even had time to think about the drugs.
Even my worry over that can’t keep my awake, though. I last twenty minutes on the sofa before my eyelids start to grow heavy. The next thing I know, Luke is laying me down carefully on his bed, his tongue poking out in concentration as he tries to put me down without disturbing me.
“Sorry. I carried you through, I didn’t think you’d wake up.”
“It’s okay, I need to get changed out of these clothes anyway.” Groggily I get up and rifle through my bag until I realize that in my rush I didn’t pack anything to sleep in.
“You need a t-shirt or something?” Luke is right behind me, incredibly close.
“I, uh—yeah that would be good, thanks.” Instead of racing away, my heart thumps hard in my chest, making my head swim a little. Everything is so different with him, now. I’m hyper aware of him. Whenever he’s in the room, my skin prickles with the knowledge that he’s close by.
His eyes pick me apart as I wait for him to grab me something to wear. A small smile ticks at the corner of his mouth.
“What?”
“Nothing.” His smile transforms into a full on smirk. “Here, wear this one.” He tugs the t-shirt he is wearing right off his back and tosses it at me. I catch it out of the air, mouth hanging open a little. The black fabric is warm and smells deliciously of him.
“Really?” I laugh.
He nods. “Really.” I try not to gawp at him, his bare chest, packed muscle over his stomach and rippling over his tattooed shoulders as he walks slowly towards me. The way he moves is predatory, like I’m a frightened deer likely to bolt before he reaches me. Maybe in some ways I am. It’s still so strange to be with him like this.
“Are you gonna put th
at on?” A wicked look glints in his eye.
“Maybe. If I can get some privacy.”
I’m totally playing and he knows it, which is why he pretends to pout as he says, “Don’t worry, I won’t look. Your modesty will be entirely preserved.”
I unbutton my jeans and shimmy them down, never breaking eye contact with him. He’s good, I’ll give him that. I know for a fact I’m wearing my nice underwear today, the lacy stuff. Miracle upon miracles, I’m wearing a matching bra, too. That never usually happens. As I pull my top off over my head, I sense him watching my every move. Sure enough, his dark eyes are burning into my skin. I thread my arms into his t-shirt and pull it on, enjoying the smell of him as I do so. I barely have time to gather my hair out of the shirt before he lunges for me, grabbing hold of my waist.
“I’m sorry, that just has to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“What, a girl in your clothes?”
“You in my clothes,” he whispers back. His mouth is on mine before I can say another word. I might have been sleepy twenty seconds ago, but now I’m suddenly very awake. I tangle my hands into Luke’s hair and he lets out a low growl. That small sound sends a bolt of heat shooting through my body and pooling somewhere a couple of degrees south of my waistline. I melt into him and he catches me up, lifting his shirt that I now wear so he can palm my butt cheeks. I never knew someone grabbing my ass could turn me on so damn much. My breathing is ridiculously fast, matching his. Luke reaches up and grabs my hair, winding it around his fist. He tips my head back and starts kissing my neck, his other hand sliding up underneath the t-shirt. I gasp when he fingers begin tracing the cup of my bra.
“Luke! Luke, your mom!” He stops long enough to meet my eyes, and I know there is no point protesting any further. Desire, animalistic and undeniable, gazes back at me. This is happening, and I want it to. Badly. “Fuck it.”
