Because of Luke

by F. X. Scully

  I sputter, holding my fist over my mouth and I can see the sly smile on his face.

  "All right, not a sister, but you know what I mean. She's hard knock and I don't see this ending well. You go out on the road and meet some chick at a concert, she gets all jealous, it fucks up our vibe. Maybe you should I don't know, end things before they get too serious. Before we all get too serious."

  I've thought about it. Especially after seeing Shannon, but every time I get up the nerve to even discuss it, I change my mind. Part of me knows how easy it would be to let her go. To end it like he says, but a bigger part of me just doesn't want to.

  For a while there, being with Sheila just made being on the road easier. Then I got used to just being with her. Now she's like a habit I can't break.

  "Are you, like, in love with her or something?"

  I shake my head. "No. I mean, she's great. Super cool and...damn sexy. I like being around her. She makes me forget where I am."

  "Was there something wrong with where you are?"

  Not anymore. I've got used to the whole being in the band thing. I even sort of like it. Being up on stage gives me a rush, a high. And being with Sheila intensifies it. I like where I am because of her. She helped get me there.

  "She's good for me," I respond. "If it wasn't for her...I don't know."

  "And you're sure you can handle it. The guys are genuinely worried about the whole Yoko Ono thing. If you fuck it up..."

  "I won't." I lick my lips and let out a heavy sigh.

  "Shit." Roscoe sits up. "What was that?"

  "What?"

  "You just sighed like your whole damn world was crashing. You think I don't know you by now? What the fuck was that?"

  I give a little shrug. "Nothing."

  "Bro. It's me."

  I hand him the joint, then rub my eyes. When I look back up at him he's still holding it between his thumb and index finger, just staring at me. Like he's waiting for a bomb to drop. "Fuck, she's not pregnant is she?"

  I snicker. "It's nothing like that. I just...I may have come pretty close to falling in love with her sister."

  Roscoe's eyes bug. "She's got a sister? How old?"

  A flicker of possessiveness runs through me, but I shake it off. That's done. Long gone.

  "She's hooked up with someone else."

  "Then how...? You mean at that dinner? How do you fall in love with a stranger in one damn night?"

  How indeed?

  "It wasn't that night," I say. "It was before. Before I even really knew Sheila. She goes to UI. I met her in the library. Actually, I met her for the first time at the Registrar's Office, then again in the library. And then..."

  I can feel his eyes on me as I contemplate whether or not to reveal the whole truth. But as I look up to meet his gaze, I realize I have no choice.

  "Fuck." His gaze burns through mine. "What? Then what?"

  "We went on a few dates."

  "You dated her sister?" Roscoe hands the joint back to me and gets up from the bed. He paces back and forth in front of me. "Does she know?"

  "Of course not."

  "Did you bang her, too?"

  I don't respond.

  "Shit." He turns an annoyed gaze on me. The same one I give him when he's eaten everything in the fridge, or forgotten to buy more toilet paper, or forces me to lie to his girlfriend. "This is exactly why fucking her was a mistake."

  "I'm not going to tell her. It's not a big deal. It was a fling. Shannon said it herself. It's not like her sister's in love with me. She barely even acknowledged me at that dinner, except to warn me not to say anything. It's under control."

  Roscoe is shaking his head and muttering something to himself. When I pass the joint he declines it and heads back toward the door. "How do you, of all people—the same guy who swore off pussy for three goddamn years—end up fucking sisters? Fuck it, Luke. You better not mess this up. Get your shit together."

  I open my mouth to respond, but he waves me off and opens the door.

  "I'm gone."

  My brother's right.

  Sheila's worried about the elephant and I'm trying avoid the goddamn stampede. Everything that's happened in the past forty-eight hours has me seriously rethinking my life. It's not often that I admit it, but I think my brother may be onto something. Running off with the band, leaving Maya and all that drama behind might just be the smartest thing he ever did. And what I've done ranks right up there with the worst of them.

  Walking into that house was a mistake. Coming back to Idaho was a mistake. And as much as I've enjoyed the time I've spent with Sheila, maybe she was a mistake too. If I'd known about the connection, I wouldn't have gone there. If I'd listened to my brother it wouldn't have mattered. I wouldn't be in the position I am now.

  She's gone to visit her sister, which means at any given moment she could burst through that door in tears and I'll have to deal with cleaning up the mess. Unless, of course, Shannon doesn't tell her. Will she? And will it matter? It didn't at first, it was just weird. And even after our conversation behind the truck, I was sure we could put it behind us.

  But the way she looked at me...

  How can I sleep with one sister while I'm thinking about the other? I can't. There's no way I can date a girl whose sister I fell in love with? Who I very well could still in love with? Am I? I don't know. When I'm not thinking about her I'm fine. When I know she's miles away, I'm okay. And now that she's hooked up with someone else, I have no choice but to get over it.

  But, you know what? The same applies to her.

  Sure, Sheila was a rebound, but once I got to know her, spent more time with her, I liked it. I like her. A lot. Am I really supposed to drop her because I dated her sister for two weeks? The same sister who dropped me the first chance she got? What we have, whatever it is, has lasted three times as long as that fling with Shannon. There's nothing wrong with what we're doing.

  I pass an open hand over the top of my head. "It doesn't matter," I mutter to myself. "She's with someone." And she doesn't care about me. She made it clear. She said to move on, so I did. I got over her. At least I thought I did. I thought she did too.

  So why was she crying? And why do I feel like shit?

  I shake my head. All of this just caught me off guard, that's all. It just brought back old feelings. But they'll fade. And it'll be fine. I can do this. I can be happy, while she's happy. Even if it is with her sister. I nod to myself. It's true. There's nothing wrong with what Sheila and I are doing at all.

  We just can't do it here. And thanks to my brother's big apology, we don't have to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  NINE MONTHS LATER

  Shannon

  I rake the tangles of my dark hair out of the brush with my comb, my eyes blurring. I'm going to go bald. There's no way I can avoid it. Ever since I came home from the hospital, my life has been a nightmare. I'm tired, cranky, my breasts are sore all damn day, my nipples are damn near on fire and I'm losing my freaking hair. Everyone tells you about the joys of childbirth—how you'll be so happy once you see that tiny little face and those miniature fingers curl around one of your own. But they don't tell you about everything else. They didn't tell me any of it.

  How I have to run to the bathroom because the muscles I used to hold my pee have suddenly decided not to work, how my skin was so dry I went through an entire bottle of lotion in a few days, how for a solid week after pushing that nine pound little boy out my downstairs was on fire—or that for the first month of his life, my little Ray would be nocturnal. They don't tell you any of that. Just the sweet stuff. The stuff that makes you not regret bringing your little bundle of terror home in the first place.

  And then there's the fact that for the past one hundred and eight days the only adults I've communicated with are Dave, Mom and Dad, unfortunately Grandma, and mine and Ray's doctors. I've never been so lonely in my life. I don't even feel like myself anymore. My doctor says, "Get out, Shannon. Go for walks in the park. Go out for dinne
r with your girlfriends. Take a break once in a while."

  What he doesn't know is I haven't had a girlfriend since high school and my sister lives miles and miles away. With my baby's father.

  I groan and tilt my head forward, trying as hard as I can to inspect my scalp. I don't see any bare patches, though I'm not sure how. Every time I rake a finger or a brush through my hair, I come out with a fur ball.

  I stand in front of the full length mirror thanking god for small blessings. At least I still have my body, or some semblance of it. I'm a little fuller, but it looks sexy instead of scary. I still have a little belly but it's nothing I can't hide with the right top. And my boobs. I smile. Finally, I've caught up with my sister.

  My mind remains on her as I apply a coat of lip gloss and feather my bangs. I haven't seen her since the night she told me she was leaving. We've talked and talked. Spent more hours on the phone than I've slept in the past month, but we haven't had the time to get together. Me, for obvious reasons. And her because of the band's demands. Because of Luke's demands.

  I glance away from the mirror. I hate what the thought of him does to me these days. The final nail in the coffin. I cry at the drop of the hat and for every story Sheila tells me about him, a thousand tears fall.

  The phone rings and I scurry back out to the living room, scooping it up to silence it.

  "Hello?" I whisper, craning my neck to peek into the baby's room. I plop down on the sofa. My little wailer will be out for another hour at least, but only if it's quiet enough.

  "Where's my baby?" Sheila squeals on the other end.

  My first instinct is to shush her she's so loud, but then I smile, my gaze shifting back to his room.

  "Sleeping," I say quietly. "I've got a whole hour before my day begins. I even managed to grab a workout and a shower this morning."

  "Oh, god. Your life sounds positively riveting," she jokes.

  I sigh. "Tell me about it. How are you?"

  "Excellent. Drunk out of my mind. Deliriously happy."

  Damn her. I haven't had a drink in over a year.

  "Drunk?" I raise an eyebrow. "At nine o'clock in the morning?"

  "There was this party and—" Sheila breaks out into a fit of giggles and I'm ready to hang up by the time she gets herself together.

  "Sorry," she sputters.

  "Sheila," I say. "I have to go. I want to eat breakfast before Ray wakes up."

  "Wait," she calls out before I drop the phone from my ear. "I want to ask you something."

  "What?" I roll my eyes.

  "You're coming for a visit."

  "That's not a question."

  "No, it's a demand. Mom says you've been moping around. That you need to get out of the house."

  "You talked to Mom?"

  "Last night," she continues. "And I think she's right. You need to get out. The baby's three months old. And you need a break. So I was thinking a girl's day. We can go shopping, to the spa, get our hair done."

  My hand instinctively goes to the dark brittle, mop on my head. "I don't know, Sheila. I've never left Ray alone."

  "Don't even try it. Mom warned me you'd say something like that. She also told how he's such a good baby he'll go to anyone and how she's been dying to take him for the night but you don't have anywhere to go. So now you do."

  "I just wouldn't feel comfortable asking her to do that. Not after everything."

  "Are you kidding me? Mom's the one who called me. She also said Grandma offered to buy you a house and you refused. Are you insane?"

  "No, I have pride. The old lady only wanted to hide me away. Screw her."

  Sheila laughs. "Oh, my god. I miss you so much. You have to come. I haven't seen you in months. Please? You need a break from all that—Grandma, the baby, that dorky boyfriend of yours."

  "Dave's not a dork. He's...great."

  "So why don't you marry him then?"

  I bite my lip. If only she knew.

  "That's what I thought. You need to find your way to the city, meet a smokin' rock god like mine and have yourself some fun. Just one day and then you can go back to the way things are. I promise. One day. You won't regret it."

  My heart rate jump starts and now I'm ready to hang up. I'm not in the mood. I'm never in the mood. "I don't know."

  "Sure you do. I can see you now, in mom jeans and Reeboks." She laughs. "Trust me, you need this."

  I let out a heavy sigh, my gaze slides first to my sweats, then down the hall to my son's room. She's so right. I need a break. I need to feel sexy again. I need to have fun. But I'm not so sure doing it with Lucas in close quarters is a good idea.

  "I have to let you know," I say.

  "Perfect," she replies in a perky voice. "I'll see you on Friday. You're staying with us at the ranch. Mom said she'll pick up Ray on Thursday night."

  Before I can get another word in she hangs up and I'm left staring at the phone in my hand, my heart racing so fast I'm out of breath. Like it or not, ready or not, I'm about to face Lucas for the first time since giving birth to his son and I've never been more nervous.

  Woodinville, Washington

  There are several cars lining the driveway when I arrive and I sit in my seat for a good ten minutes before I get the nerve to make my way to the door. I leave my suitcase in the trunk because a big part of me is tempted to drive into the city and stay in a hotel. This whole thing is a terrible idea. The weekend trip, staying in this house. With him. With them.

  The front door swings open and my little sister wraps her arms around my neck, nearly toppling me.

  "You're here!" she squeals. She squeezes so hard I struggle for breath.

  "I'm here," I reply with much less enthusiasm. My gaze skitters across the room, and I'm grateful Lucas is nowhere to be seen. "So I was thinking maybe I should just stay at a hotel."

  "Don't be crazy. You're staying with me. In my awesome room. I kicked Lucas out for the weekend so us girls can bunk. Just like we used to. Coco will be here at five, but we're not waiting for her." Sheila cranes her neck to look behind me. "Where's your bag?"

  "In the car. Uh, Coco's coming?"

  "Of course she is."

  "Look, Sheila, I really appreciate you letting me stay, but I was hoping to get some extra sleep while I'm here. And I don't want to cramp your style. I'm not so sure—"

  She smirks. "You're such a tool. Cramp my style? Seriously?"

  "Hey, you're the one who just called me a tool," I counter.

  "And rightfully so. What. The. Hell. Are you wearing?"

  My gaze drops to the floral baby doll dress and denim jacket. When I put it on this morning, I thought I looked cute. With my ankle high Doc Martens, I was confident I'd pulled off a semi-chic look.

  "What?" I ask.

  But she ignores me, focusing on my chest. "Holy shit, your boobs are huge." Her eyes widen.

  I grin. "Aren't they though? I'm giving Pamela Anderson a run for her money."

  "I have to say." Sheila stands back. "Motherhood agrees with you. I mean other than your high school clothes and 90210 bangs, you don't look half bad."

  I snicker. "And what about you?"

  Her hair looks darker than normal. It's parted straight down the middle and is even longer than it was the last time I saw her. She's got it tucked behind the ear on her left side that's lined with so many tiny silver hoops I can't count them. The black top she's wearing looks like it's made out of some kind of sheer metal material. It's completely see-through, showing off a black bra that her cleavage, as usual, spills over. She's wearing a pair of tight leather pants, and knee high platform combat boots with oversized buckles on the sides. Through the shirt, I can see markings of a tattoo, but I can't quite make it out. I also can't help but wonder if it's real. But knowing my sister, it absolutely is.

  Sheila does a little twirl and I'm bombarded with memories of her illicit fashion shows in our bedroom. And I immediately want to cry.

  She frowns, placing a hand on my arm. "What's wrong?"


  I shake my head, and swallow the frog in my throat. "Nothing. I just missed you." And I'm freaking hormonal. I miss my baby. My apartment. My bed. Why the hell did I come here?

  "Well, let's make the best of this day. Let's go eat something stupid. Buy you a new dress and come back and hang out until Coco gets here. You game?"

  I nod. But I'm not. As much as I miss her, I have the overwhelming sensation to go back home. Back to my baby. I don't belong here. This is her world and even though I was invited, I'm still just visiting.

  I'm exhausted by the time we make it home. I haven't walked that much, shopped that long, laughed that hard in longer than I care to admit. And now I realize Sheila and Mom were right. I needed this. I lie down on the bed, my eyes drooping as I imagine the kind of life I could have had. Before him. Before everything got screwed up. I've contemplated talking to him while I'm here. Just coming clean with both of them. But now isn't the time. Not after my little sister went through all this just so I can have a good time. The truth will have to wait. And it can. For just a little while longer. I haven't seen him yet, and I'm glad. If I can help it, I'll avoid him for the rest of the day and get out of here first thing in the morning.

  When I wake up some time later, it's dark. And the formerly quiet house is buzzing. Music drifts up the stairs and into Sheila's room and there are voices—mostly male—battling to be heard above it. I crawl out of the bed, smooth my clothes and creep toward the door. Coco's in the hallway, when I poke my head out.. She's leaned up against the wall, like she's waiting for someone.

  "Hey! You're up." She pushes her way into the room. "I wanted to change, but I didn't want to wake you up. You've been dead to the world for hours."

  "What's going on?" I rub my eyes and let out a yawn.

  "The party," she says, as she retrieves a little black skirt from her suitcase. "You're missing all the fun." She peels off her jeans and steps into the stretchy fabric. "Sheila said you should wear that outfit."

  "What party?" I asked.

  "She didn't tell you?"

  I shake my head.