Just a Little Sequel

by Tracie Puckett

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents depicted in this collection are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons—living or dead—is coincidental.

  ISBN-10: 1492914878

  ISBN-13: 978-1492914877

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at traciepuckettnovels@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Second Edition. 2014.

  Cover photography © Dmitri Gromov | Dreamstime.com

  Edited by Nicole Ayers of Ayers Edits

  www.traciepuckett.com

  Joseph, for always keeping me on my toes.

  One

  One year, two months, and five days later...

  “Oh, Jules,” Luke squatted down on the ground next to me. He gnawed at his bottom lip as he studied my masterpiece.

  I didn’t have much time to finish the pumpkin I’d set out to carve for tonight’s annual Halloween bash; the clock was ticking, and I still hadn’t had time to shower and get into costume. But I was glad to finally have company outside, and I was certainly glad it was Luke who’d decided to join me.

  Charlie had requested my help with planning his over-the-top party this year, and my job was basically done—minus the fact that I’d forgotten to make jack-o’-lanterns of the half-dozen pumpkins he’d brought home from the market last night.

  So I’d been exiled to the backyard for cleaning and carving while Charlie, Bruno, and Luke tackled all of the things that needed to be done inside. With Matt away at college, there was no one around to man the kitchen, and his absence had turned a simple job into a three-man catastrophe. You wouldn’t believe how many batches of ghost-shaped cookies had come out of the oven burned, black, and completely inedible.

  At least my half of the party execution had gone smoothly. On top of arranging countless decorations inside and out, I’d already scattered the first five jack-o’-lanterns around the porch and yard. Five down, one to go. I was on a roll!

  A little frazzled and overwhelmed, Luke had obviously needed a break from the smoke detectors and bickering, but he didn’t seem too thrilled with what he found outside either. He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes drifted downward to stare at the gooey strands of seeds and strings piled on the ground next to me. It was amazing how big a pile of pumpkin guts could grow after six cleanings, but Luke didn’t seem to think amazing was quite the right word. He looked utterly disgusted.

  “You like it?”

  “It’s….”

  “Great, huh?” I asked, turning to smile. My hands were orange and slimy, but he hadn’t noticed that yet. He was still too busy studying the mess I’d piled at my side.

  “Great?” he met my gaze. “You’ve gutted the thing.”

  “That’s what you’re supposed to do,” I said.

  He kept staring at the pumpkin as if the whole idea of cleaning and carving was a completely foreign concept to grasp. His eyes widened as he focused on the scooper in my hand, and his jaw clenched at the sight of the orange muck slipping through my fingers. Swallowing a little harder than usual, he leaned back and watched as I scooped another spoonful of innards onto the ground.

  “Why are you acting like this is some hideous act of violence?” I studied him. “Haven’t you ever carved a pumpkin?”

  “No.”

  “No?” I felt my eyes grow wider by the second. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  His lip pulled into a faint grin that only indicated he might’ve been joking. I couldn’t quite tell; even after a year of being an ‘official’ couple, I still had trouble reading Luke from time to time.

  “It’s fun,” I said. “And I really think you would enjoy it if you’d just—”

  “Aren’t those things supposed to have faces?” he redirected the conversation as quickly as he could without changing the subject entirely.

  He didn’t want to hear about how much fun he could have if he’d just get his hands dirty for once. Luke hadn’t really improved much in the OCD department, and I’d just learned to stop fighting him over the little things. I had to pick my battles, and I had my sights focused firmly on one particular win. But that was another story for another time….

  “You can’t carve the face until you’ve cleaned the cavity,” I said, suddenly recognizing that his faint grin had widened into a full-blown smile.

  His scarred lip pulled wider and I tried not to match his smile. He knew just how to get me worked up over nothing, and that was something that hadn’t changed once since the day I’d met him. But I’d somehow learned to take Luke’s picking and teasing in stride, and we’d fallen into quite a steady rhythm. We had the occasional arguments—slamming doors and stomping feet—but all in all, everything was about as perfect as it could be.

  “I’ll let you get back to that—”

  “Sit down and help me finish,” I looked up at him with a goofy grin.

  “That’s not happening,” he said, still eyeing the pile of waste with a sheen layer of sweat building on his forehead. “Just the combination of you, knives, and pungent pumpkin-matter makes me a little nauseous.”

  “Ah,” I whined, pouting my lip and batting my lashes. “Just sit down. Play with me.”

  Luke twisted his lips as he seriously considered the repercussions of both actions: walking away or sitting down. Knowing he’d probably have to suffer either way, he stopped hovering and reluctantly planted himself in the grass next to me.

  “That’s more like it,” I nudged him with my shoulder. I scooped the last of the fibrous strands out of the cavity and dumped them on the ground. “Can you believe it’s Halloween already?” I asked, focusing mostly on the job at hand, but I shot an occasional glance at Luke from the corner of my eye. “I mean, it seems like just yesterday Charlie started planning the party—”

  “I seriously doubt he ever stops planning his parties.”

  “True,” I wiped my hands in the grass before turning to him. “But we’re eight weeks into the semester already, the fall carnival starts next month, the baby’s due any day, and I’m just trying to figure out where in the world the last year went.”

  He half-laughed, “Time flies.”

  “It sure does,” I pointed at him with a definite nod.

  “Careful where you’re slinging that stuff,” he said, watching a slimy strand drip from my hand.

  “What, this?” I stared down at the mess. I lifted my hands a little higher and my fingers hovered only an inch from his jaw on either side. “You’re worried about a little slime, Luke?”

  I touched his cheek with only a tiny drop of orange mush, and he quickly wiped it away with his naked forearm.

  “Stop that,” he said, but his demand faltered under the shake in his voice. He wanted to sound like his typically stern self, but the smile pulling at his lips overpowered his will.

  And though he sat there smiling, I felt like Luke wasn’t really there at all; physically, I had him in my grasp. If I’d really wanted to smear the innards of my pumpkin all over his beautiful face, I could’ve. He might’ve killed me for doing it, sure. But I could’ve if I’d wanted to.

  Emotionally though, Luke had checked out again, and his ‘checking-out’ only came in little spurts. It’d been months since he’d seemed distant, and he almost always bounced back from his emotional unavailability rather quickly.
But something had changed earlier this week; Luke had changed. Again. And it was officially the third consecutive day of his soft grins, gentle nods, and easy-to-come-by compliance. It almost seemed as though it was easier for him to just “be” than to put forth any effort.

  Maybe that’s why my left ring finger was as naked now as it had always been.

  I could’ve made the argument that it was just easier for him to come and go as he pleased than for him to expend a single bit of effort and finally propose, but Luke had done his best not to be the come-and-go type, so that argument was moot. Since we’d both committed to our relationship, we’d both been respectful, loving, honest, and patient.

  But mypatience had dwindled. Luke seemed to want the same things I wanted from life—togetherness, marriage, a family, but there hadn’t been a shred of evidence to indicate that our relationship was anywhere near a turning point.

  Had he changed his mind?

  “Stop that,” he watched his hands as he twiddled his thumbs.

  “Hmm?” I looked up from the pumpkin for the first time in five minutes. “Stop what?”

  “Doubting me,” he raised his eyes to meet my stare.

  His brown eyes softened, and there was no disguising the sadness lingering deep beneath the surface.

  I could’ve pulled him forward, kissed him, told him that he didn’t have a single thing to worry about. I could’ve erased all fear of any doubt… but why lie?

  I had doubt.

  “Julie,” he said, just as sure as he’d ever been about anything, “I— haven’t—changed—my—mind.”

  “Then what the hell is taking you so long?” I asked so quickly that I couldn’t stop the words from spilling off my lips. Watching his stunned expression gave me enough time to reconsider what I’d almost said next (you asked Charlie a year ago! He said yes! Why waste your breath asking him if you had no intention of carrying through? I want to marry you, Lucas Reibeck. I want to have your babies!).

  Yeah.

  It was probably best that I kept my mouth shut.

  Luke’s stunned expression faded quickly, and it was immediately replaced with one of his gentle smiles.

  It was the first time I’d brought it up since we’d left the French Bistro last fall. The fact that it’d taken me well over a year to mention it must’ve impressed him, because his smile kept growing wider.

  I couldn’t tell if he was laughing at me or sincerely flattered by my impatience, so I looked down at the pumpkin to avoid watching his smile.

  “I should probably start carving this thing if I want to have it ready for tonight,” I said under my breath, and then I picked up a carving knife.

  I didn’t look at him again, but I felt his eyes burning on the side of my face as I made three incisions through the tough skin.

  “Julie—”

  “Are you going to help me or not?” I asked, not batting an eye. “Because I have a lot to get done before the party tonight, and I can’t afford any more distractions.”

  I didn’t mean to sound so hateful, but I didn’t want to discuss what he wanted to discuss. I didn’t want to risk hearing the words I’m not ready, or worse, you’re not ready.

  “Sure. I’ll help,” he said quietly, and he slid a little closer. He reached forward and took the carving knife from my hand. Over the next fifteen minutes, Luke carved and perfected the fine details of the jack-o’-lantern’s face.

  So he had done this before….

  I watched him without making a sound. When he was done, he simply looked down at his hands, smirked at the sight of the slime on his fingers, and then reached up and smeared a bit on the tip of my nose.

  “Payback’s a bitch, Julie Little,” he dropped his face closer to mine. He winked, and though it melted my heart faster than I had time to register a thought, I only managed a faint smile.

  I drifted closer, wanting to pester him a bit more and smear his face with another handful of goo, but the softness in his stare stopped me in my tracks and caught me completely off guard.

  There it was again… that look… the one I hadn’t seen in days…

  We watched each other silently for a few long seconds, and each passing moment brought us closer than the one before it. I moved closer to him, leaning my forehead against his, and his slow, jagged breath breezed across my skin.

  My childish need for playing, teasing, and hilarity went right out the door the moment his skin touched mine. Suddenly I’d forgotten about everything that had led to that moment. Luke looked at me the way he does— the way he always did when he wasn’t having one of his emotional withdrawals; he looked at me like he didn’t care how much I taunted him. He watched me with a definite certainty that there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than right there in that moment with me, and I suddenly felt like I had him back again. Without saying a word, I knew that softness in his eyes meant one thing; he was captivated by his love for me, and there was nothing I could do to change his mind on that matter. Luke loved me, and one look was all it took to bring my defenses crashing down.

  Still breathing a little heavily, Luke raised his hand to the back of my head and pulled me into his parted lips. He wasn’t even going to waste his time pretending he wanted to ease into the kiss; he knew what he wanted, and he wasn’t shy about taking it.

  I tried my damnedest to resist the urge to run my fingers through his hair as I sank into his warm kiss, but a simple touch from Luke sent my thoughts skyrocketing beyond comprehension; it was only seconds later that I combed my grimy fingers through his dark roots, and he didn’t seem to notice—and if he did, he didn’t seem to care—that I’d just soiled his clean hair.

  I sank closer to him, and he tightened his grasp on my back as I fell into his lap, never once letting my lips pull away from his. I felt him falling backward, and I couldn’t resist clinging to him as he drifted. Down we went, and my body clung to the top of his.

  It was only after I felt Luke’s hand creeping up the back of my shirt that the sound of Bruno clearing his throat snapped my attention away from the breathless man beneath me. Luke and I pulled away from one another, and I rolled onto the grass next to him, both of us flat against the ground. Our stares shot upward to meet Bruno’s wide-eyed gaze.

  “Don’t mind me,” he stepped over us to reach the fire pit. “I’m just swinging by to start the fire and heat things up.” He gave Luke a coy smile that read a lot like guess I’m not the only one.

  An unimpressed groan escaped Luke’s throat. He sat up, brushed off his jeans, and stood, helping me up, too. Luke didn’t spend half as much time as I did trying to compose himself.

  We stood idly by while Bruno started the fire, and not long after it began roaring, he turned back and smiled. “As you were,” he nodded to both of us. His cheesy grin never faded.

  I looked at Luke from the corner of my eye and let a slow breath escape through my lips.

  “Well, at least that wasn’t embarrassing.” Luke smirked and draped his arm around my waist. He pulled me closer and planted a soft kiss to the top of my head.

  “Oh,” Bruno added just in time to spoil yet another moment. He turned back as he reached the back door and pointed a finger at the both of us, “You two best watch yourselves. The last thing either of your families need right now is another unplanned pregnancy. Got it?”

  And with that, he was gone. Luke and I shared a simple smile.

  Two

  “This is never going to work,” I tucked the bottom of Matt’s mask inside his collar.

  “Sure it will,” his voice was muffled inside a cave of vinyl and rubber. “Dad doesn’t know half the people that show up to this thing nowadays. I’ll go just as unnoticed as the other three dozen uninvited guests that show up.”

  I finished adjusting his costume and took a step back.

  “How’s it look?”

  “Freaky,” I shivered and shook my head at the blood and gore. Elvis perked up from the bed and barked, and I turned to pat him on the head
. “Don’t worry, big guy. It’s just Mattie.”

  Sadly, Matt didn’t know how to approach Halloween with a simplistic mindset. He’d always gone above and beyond to have the best costume at the party, and this year was certainly no exception—especially considering that he wasn’t even supposed to be in Oakland.

  He’d stained his shirt with dirt and blood, ripped holes in the knees of his jeans, and dragged an old pair of tennis shoes through mud to give ’em a good grimy look. His mask matched his outfit; it was twisted and distorted and terrifying in every possible way. I wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to be, only that his costume was as petrifying as something you’d see in a horror film.

  “Tell me again why you’re doing this?”

  It was his first attempt at winning the Best Dressed title with a mask; he usually spent hours perfecting his hair and makeup with the best cosmetic supplies money could buy.

  “I don’t want Dad to know I’m home,” he turned to the mirror. I wasn’t sure how well he could see himself through the small eye slits in the mask, but he must’ve had a good enough view of himself because he started adjusting his clothes to look even more tattered.

  “He’s going to find out eventually, Mattie,” I said. “You can’t just move back home and expect it to go unnoticed. He’s not an idiot.” I wanted to remind him that Uncle Charlie had this very weird way of knowing everything that happened in Oakland, and he wasn’t about to miss something as big as his son dropping out of school, returning home, and living in his old bedroom. “You need to tell him.”

  “I’ll tell him when the time is right.”

  “And that’ll be…?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, and although I couldn’t see his face, I knew he rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell him… soon.”

  “Soon?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Tonight,” I said, “the longer you wait the worse it’ll be.”