by Sydney Logan
“You don’t remember me, do you? We were lab partners in Biology our senior year,” the policeman said, grinning down at me. “Hank Roberts? I asked you to the prom—repeatedly—but you kept sayin’ no.”
Hank Roberts. The boy who, on the day we were dissecting frogs, complained about the dullness of the scissors and proceeded to whip out his hunting knife.
This was completely embarrassing, but maybe he wouldn’t take us to jail if I seemed somewhat apologetic.
“I’m really sorry about that, Hank.”
Lucas coughed to cover his laugh.
“Far be it from me to interrupt when two consenting adults are having a little fun . . .” Hank’s eyes finally traveled to Lucas, shooting him an angry look while shining the light in his face. “It was consensual, wasn’t it?”
“Absolutely consensual,” I assured him.
He nodded. “That’s good, but this is private property now, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave. If Jude catches you two out here, he’ll wanna press charges.”
“We’ll leave,” I promised him.
“We’re sorry, officer,” Lucas apologized solemnly.
Hank chuckled. “Not a problem. Have a good night! Oh, and I’ll expect to see the two of you at church on Sunday.”
We waited until the lights of Hank’s cruiser were completely out of sight before exploding with laughter.
“He’ll see us at church on Sunday?”
I grinned. “I guess he thinks we have some repenting to do.”
“Hmm.” Lucas lowered his head and kissed me tenderly. “I’d have to disagree with him. I’m not sorry at all.”
I gently caressed his face. “Neither am I.”
“I am grateful he showed up when he did,” Lucas said softly. “The first time we make love won’t be in the back seat of my car.” He grinned sheepishly and kissed me once more before climbing over to the front seat.
Stunned speechless, I quickly followed and fastened my seat belt. Lucas slipped his hand into mine, and without a word, he led us out of the woods and back out onto the highway.
September passed in a blinding blur of first semester assignments and settling into my new routine. Each day was pretty much the same—work, eat, friends, and sleep. Despite the monotony, I was at peace. There was a comfort in the familiarity of it all, and I found it was a calm that trickled into every facet of my new life in Sycamore Falls.
My panic attacks were less frequent these days, and I was thankful not to need the medication so much. My friendship with Aubrey was stronger than ever, and the town continued to welcome me home with open arms. To them, I wasn’t the prodigal daughter returning home to escape her nightmare. I was just Sarah Bray—hometown girl, Jason and Carol’s daughter, and Grace’s granddaughter.
I was also Lucas’s . . . something.
We’d yet to label it. It seemed a little soon to call myself his girlfriend; however, friends don’t usually make out in the back seat of a car, so we found ourselves in a weird state of limbo that didn’t seem to matter to either of us.
It bugged the hell out of Aubrey, though.
Naturally, there’d been a shift in our relationship since the night in the woods. We were more playful and flirty, except when we were at school where we were required to keep a respectable distance. Aubrey noticed the change between us—because Aubrey notices everything—but I just wasn’t ready to share any of the details.
Today, we were looking at apartments.
“How did you even find this place?” I asked as we pulled into a gravel driveway. Apartments were a rarity in Sycamore Falls. Decent places were even more uncommon. This particular building had been recently renovated into one-bedroom units and looked clean and tidy from the outside.
Lucas shifted the car into park. “It was posted on the community board down at the hardware store.”
“You don’t like your house?”
“I do. It’s just too big for me. This place is closer to school, and the rent is cheaper.”
This apartment was also closer to my house, which made me ridiculously happy.
“Ready?”
He nodded, and we climbed out of the car. Lucas pointed toward the first door on the left. “Apartment number one.”
I couldn’t hide my smirk. “How original.”
Lucas slipped the key into the lock and cautiously pushed the door open. Neither of us was brave enough to step inside.
I chanced a glance at him. “Nervous?”
“I just hope it isn’t a dump.”
Bravely, I took him by the hand and led us inside, closing the door behind us. The living room walls were stark white and smelled of fresh paint. The carpet was brown and looked brand new.
I couldn’t deny I was pleasantly surprised.
“Not a dump at all,” I assured him.
I heard his quiet sigh of relief as we made our way through the rest of the apartment. It was a quick look because the place was insanely small, but each room was neat and clean. All of the kitchen appliances were new and the bathroom fixtures shined.
“I think it’s perfect,” Lucas said when we returned to the living room.
“I think so, too.”
With a smile, Lucas placed his hands along my hips and pulled me close.
“Do you know what makes it even more perfect?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s closer to your house.”
I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“And closer to me is a good thing?”
“Closer to you is a very good thing.” Leaning down, he rubbed his nose against mine.
“I have to admit being close to you is sometimes a struggle, though.”
“Why is it a struggle?”
Suddenly, my back was being pressed against the living room wall and his hands gripped my waist. His eyes were dark and intense as he slowly brushed my hair aside. He lowered his head, gently trailing his lips from my cheek to my ear.
“Because, sometimes, it’s just not close enough,” Lucas murmured.
I melted against him as his lips covered mine.
I found myself becoming more comfortable at school as I grew closer to my students. Creative writing was the best part of my school day, because the teenagers were opinionated and willing to talk about anything. I’d purposely chosen some controversial topics, and some of those discussions had become heated. I loved those days because I could remind my students that merely listening to others’ opinions didn’t mean we had to agree with them. In those moments, I felt like I was actually teaching them something worthwhile, and not just how to correct their comma splices.
High school is always full of drama, and this week had been no exception. According to the rumor mill, Matt and Carrie had broken up via text message. Obviously, the news that the star quarterback had dumped the captain of the cheerleading squad caused quite an uproar. Carrie was moping around like a zombie, while Matt seemed completely unaffected by it all, leading everyone to assume he had another girlfriend just waiting in the wings.
It was all very dramatic.
Matt’s grades, however, were slipping. Because Tommy required a C average, the faculty was required to send him a weekly report on his football players. A quick glance at my grade book led me to ask Matt to stay behind at the end of today’s English class.
“You wanted to see me, Miss Bray?”
Sitting on the edge of my desk, I smiled at my favorite senior as he slumped in his chair. Kids always know when a lecture is coming.
“How are you doing, Matt?”
He shrugged. “Can’t complain.”
“Coach tells me some college scouts are coming to the games to watch you play.”
His face brightened. “A recruiter from Florida State is coming this Friday. And Tennessee and South Carolina are interested in me. I don’t really care where I go to college. I just want out of this town.”
“I understand. That’s why I’m a little concerned about your
grades.”
His smile faded. “How bad?”
“Let’s just say Coach is asking for progress reports, and I’m dragging my feet a little because someone is failing my English class.”
Matt groaned hoarsely and buried his face in his hands.
“You’re usually an A student, so I’m concerned. What’s going on?”
He raised his head, and I could see the indecision on his face.
“You know about me and Carrie, right?”
Nice try, kid.
“I heard about that, yes,” I replied patiently, “but I don’t think that’s what’s affecting your grades. As a matter of fact, I’ve noticed you seem more relieved than heartbroken when it comes to your break-up, so I don’t think we can blame your English grade on your love life.”
“My love life . . .” Matt muttered tiredly. “Yeah, it’s a mess. And you’re right. I’m not at all broken-hearted about Carrie.”
His expression turned somber. “I wasn’t being fair to her, Miss Bray. She hates me now, but trust me, it’s so much better this way. It was pretty selfish of me to keep up the charade for as long as I did. Remember what I told you? That I walk the halls of this school, and I play my role every single day?”
I nodded.
“I just got tired of playing, Miss Bray.”
His voice was hollow and sad, and in that moment, he reminded me of another high school boy—an intelligent young man with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes who had played his own role each and every day. He’d lied to his parents. He’d lied to his girlfriend. For years, he’d even lied to himself. One day, he made the brave decision to stop lying, and soon after, his life came to a violent end.
My fault.
“Miss Bray, are you all right? You look a little sick.”
“I’m fine, Matt.” I blinked back my unshed tears and reached for my grade book. Flipping through the pages, I took a deep breath and tried to focus. “If you’ll write your analysis on Macbeth and do your other two missing assignments—”
“I’ll do it!”
“Good. Get them to me by Friday, and I’ll hold on to Coach’s progress reports until then.”
“You’re awesome, Miss Bray!” Matt exclaimed as he leapt out of his chair. “I promise. You’ll have it Friday morning.”
Matt sprinted out of the room, nearly knocking Lucas to the ground in the process. He mumbled an apology and thanked me again before racing down the hallway.
“You know, you are pretty awesome, Miss Bray.”
I collapsed into my chair. I didn’t feel awesome at all. I felt weary, exhausted, and on the verge of my first panic attack in weeks.
Lucas walked around my desk, and suddenly, his hands were on me. He began gently massaging my neck and shoulders, and I couldn’t keep from moaning.
“You know, Miss Bray, that’s not a very appropriate sound for the classroom.”
I didn’t care. I just closed my eyes and let him work his magic on my tense muscles.
“However,” Lucas said softly, “I do know the perfect place where you’d be free to moan as loudly as you like.”
My eyes snapped open.
His new apartment? The back seat of his car?
At this moment, I’d follow him anywhere.
Chapter 12
“You know, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Too embarrassed to answer, I simply bit my lip and followed him toward our boulder. It had become our little snuggling place whenever we visited the waterfall.
I draped the blanket around my shoulders. “It won’t be long until the weather isn’t so cooperative.”
“Then we will just have to take advantage of it as long as we can.” He sat down on our rock and gently pulled me into his lap. “Are you going to share that blanket?”
Grinning, I wrapped it around us while we snuggled close and looked across the water. In the distance, you could see the leaves already changing color at the highest peaks. It wouldn’t be long until the entire mountainside was covered in red and gold.
“I was thinking about you last night,” Lucas said.
“What were you thinking?”
“There are some very important things I don’t know about you.”
“Like?”
“Like . . . what’s your favorite color?”
I laughed. “Are you serious?”
His handsome face split into a wide, expectant grin, and we spent the rest of the afternoon playing twenty questions, learning the most inconsequential things about each other’s lives. Favorite colors. Foods. Books. As the game continued, we became bolder with our questions, and he wondered how it was possible that I was still single.
“I’m pretty high maintenance,” I replied jokingly, although it was the truth. “There was this guy back in Memphis.”
“The man must be an idiot if he let you go.”
“Actually, I let him go.”
“Why?”
I smirked. “You might not have noticed, but I’m an emotional girl.”
“And he couldn’t handle it?”
“I didn’t want to be something that had to be handled,” I replied as I looked toward the falls. “He wasn’t a bad person; it wasn’t his fault. I was already wounded when he met me, and then . . .”
Bowing my head, I sighed as he nuzzled my cheek with his nose.
“Let’s just say it didn’t get any better.”
“Maybe he should have tried harder.”
“Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be,” I said. “I’m not broken-hearted or disappointed, honestly. He’ll be much happier without me, and I’ll be much happier without him.” I tilted my head and offered him a smile. “I am much happier without him.”
He grinned.
“So, what about you? Did you leave someone behind back in New York?”
Lucas shrugged. “I dated some, but there was never anyone I was serious about, much to my mother’s dismay . . .” His voice trailed off, sentimental and soft.
“You miss your parents.”
“I do. They were always my best friends, and they stood by my side when I went through the situation with Marina. It was a horrible time in my life, and they were right there. The fact that I allowed it to put distance between me and my family is my biggest regret of all, even if they did understand my need for a fresh start.”
“They sound like really wonderful people.”
I knew what it felt like to miss your family. It was a pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
“They are. It’ll be so nice to see them at Thanksgiving.”
My heart sank. I hadn’t even begun to think about the holidays. Of course, he’d go home.
He would go home.
And I would be alone.
“Hey, what is it?” he whispered and pulled me closer.
I forced a smile. It wasn’t as if I could expect him to desert his family for Thanksgiving just because I was alone.
“It’s nothing, Lucas.”
The sun began to set, so we folded up the blanket and headed back to the car. The drive home was quiet, mostly because I was too wrapped up in my own head to carry on a conversation. Lucas seemed to understand I needed some space, so he simply held my hand all the way home, rubbing little circles along my skin until he finally pulled into the driveway. Always the gentleman, he walked me to my door.
“Thank you for this afternoon,” I whispered.
He turned toward me, and I couldn’t stand to see the pain in his eyes.
“Sarah, what’s wrong? What did I say?”
“You didn’t say anything.” Reaching for the door, I was determined not to cry in front of him. I’d done enough of that to last a lifetime.
“Sarah, wait—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Closing the door behind me, I pressed my forehead against the wood. Listening intently, I waited for the sound of the car’s ignition.
It never came.
>
Of course, he wouldn’t leave me.
Wiping away my tears, I walked toward the living room and over to the bookshelf. I quickly found the photo album I needed and carried it over to the couch. Taking a deep breath, I placed the album in my lap and began to thumb through the pictures.
Sixteen Thanksgiving dinners.
Sixteen Christmas mornings.
Sixteen years of holidays with my family.
I flipped through page after page of my family as we surrounded our Thanksgiving table. Endless photos of me when I was a child, opening presents on Christmas day. My parents and grandma were always in the background, looking healthy and happy, and completely full of life.
I closed the photo album and set it aside.
I couldn’t look at it anymore.
I had no idea what was wrong with me. It wasn’t like this would be my first holiday without my family, but it would be my first without them in Sycamore Falls. Lucas would be with his parents in New York, and Aubrey and Tommy probably had their own traditions at their house.
I would be alone.
I am alone.
I buried my face in my hands and wept. I hadn’t felt alone in so long, and suddenly, the feeling was suffocating me as memories flooded my mind.
Visions of us chopping down the Christmas tree.
Sitting on my father’s shoulders while I placed the angel on top.
Spying from the top of the stairs in the middle of the night as my mom and dad propped my bicycle under the tree, shattering any hope that Santa Claus was real.
“Sarah . . .”
I could hear his voice, but I was too lost . . . too consumed by the darkness and the grief to find him. Suddenly, I was in his arms, warm and safe, and he cradled me close to his chest while he murmured softly in my ear.
I had no idea how long we stayed like that, but after a while, my tears finally began to subside.
“I’m a mess,” I whispered, wiping my face with the back of my hand. Very gently, Lucas tilted my head toward his. His blue eyes were pained as he examined every inch of my face. Without a word, he tenderly kissed my eyelids.
“I hate to see you cry,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry.”
