by Robin Huber
Tomorrow it will be her street. I’ll be three blocks away, and she’ll still be living under the same roof as Will and Tommy. I swear to God, if they even look at her.
A noise pulls me from my thoughts, and this time, I know it’s coming from Lucy’s room.
She whines and cries. No.
A burst of heat flashes across my skin, and my pulse races as I jump from my bed, ignoring the noisy springs that creak inside my mattress. I step into the hallway to assess the danger, but everything is quiet, besides Maxine’s snoring, which is loud enough to hear through her closed door. Will and Tommy’s door is closed too.
Lucy whimpers again.
“Lucy?” I whisper, pushing her door open. I find her curled up in her bed, gripping the sheets. “Lucy,” I whisper again, touching her arm.
She startles awake and looks up at me with wide eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay. You were just having a nightmare.”
She blinks at me a few times, and the gray moonlight coming through her window fills her pale, watery eyes.
“Luc, what’s the matter?”
She rolls over and pulls the sheet up to her chin. “Nothing, go back to your room,” she says with a wobbly voice.
I tug on her arm through the sheet. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong. Was it the dream? Are you okay?”
She buries her face in her pillow and cries.
I’m not really sure what to do, so I sit beside her and wait for her to finish.
After a few seconds, she looks up at me and sniffs. “I’m crying because it wasn’t just a dream, you’re really leaving me…just like everyone else.”
My face screws up at the tight feeling in my chest. “Lu—” I swallow hard. “Lucy.” I wrap my fingers around her shoulder. Her skin is hot under my hand, and it sends a strange sensation through my body that makes me uncomfortable and excited at the same time. “I’m not. I’m not leaving you.”
“Yes you are.”
“I’m just leaving this house. Not you. We’ll still see each other at school.”
“For now. But what about next year when you go to high school? I’ll never see you.”
“That’s not true. You’ll see me all the time. I’ll leave early every day and walk you to school, just like I do now.”
She sits up and looks at me with sad eyes, and it makes me want to kick the shit out of myself for getting into that stupid fight today. I’m such an idiot. “I’m sorry,” I say, wishing a thousand times that I could go back and walk away from it, like she told me to.
She nods and a tear rolls down her cheek. “I know.” She wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me tight. “You’re my best friend, Sam.”
I push down the feelings she’s stirring up inside me and hold her while she cries.
She sniffs again and asks, “Will you stay with me tonight, just for a little while?”
“Yeah.” I swallow hard and banish the uninvited thoughts that invade my mind when we lie down. She rolls onto her side and reaches for my arm, draping it over her shoulder, and I intentionally move my hips back a few inches away from hers. I pull her against my chest and hold her tight.
This isn’t the first time she’s asked me to stay with her in the middle of the night. She has nightmares about her mom overdosing sometimes. She was there when it happened, and she remembers things about it that no kid should know. But tonight feels different. She feels different.
I close my eyes and breathe in the smell of her hair and skin, knowing that this is the last time I’ll be able to comfort her in the middle of the night. My chest feels heavy when I think about tomorrow. Lucy is the closest thing that I have to family. She needs me…to protect her, to keep her safe. I knew it from the second I laid eyes on her. She was so innocent, like a little lamb or something. She didn’t belong in this place. She still doesn’t. But I need her too. I don’t remember being happy before her. But she makes me happy. She makes me curious. She makes me want to do good things. I don’t know if love is really a thing, but if it is, it must be what I feel for her, because I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.
“I love you,” I whisper, wanting her to know. But I don’t think she hears me. She must be asleep. I close my eyes, feeling pleased with myself. I’ve never said that to anyone before, but I like how it feels to say it to Lucy.
“I love you too,” she whispers, and a strange feeling—a mix of joy and awe—settles over me.
No one’s ever said that to me.
“Sam! Sam!” Someone pounds on the door and calls my name again. “Sam!”
I grab my phone. Shit. It’s 11:25. I jump up and answer the door.
Miles marches into my hotel room. “I guess you don’t want to go home today.”
“I fell asleep.”
“Well, you might as well go back to bed, because you’re not making a one o’clock flight out of JFK now.”
“Just get the next flight, then.” I reach up and rub my stiff neck. I’m still just as sore as I was earlier this morning.
“Damn,” he says, eyeing the bruises on my ribs. “Did you take something for that?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just let me get a shower before we go.” I head to the bathroom and strip down.
“You get some food?”
“No, not yet.”
He grabs the room service menu and stands outside the shower. “What do you want? An omelet? Eggs Benedict? Pancakes? All of the above?”
“Not pancakes.”
“I forgot, you don’t like pancakes.”
“I never said I don’t like them.”
“Then have a cheat day. You won last night.”
“Just order me the fucking omelet, Miles.”
“Well, you could’ve said that to begin with. I’m ordering you some coffee too. You’re grouchy.” He shuts the bathroom door. “Guess I would be too, if I looked like a punching bag,” I hear him say from the other side of the door.
I close my eyes and stand under the hot water, thinking about Lucy.
I spent every day in prison worrying about her. I wrote letters, but everything I sent to her foster home came back returned. I tried email, but her school account was deactivated. Gaining access to her file was like trying to pry open a locked vault. Family Services wouldn’t tell me anything. The only person who would give me any information at all was her last foster mom, Ms. Jenkins. She told me that Lucy dropped out of school and took off on her eighteenth birthday, but she didn’t know where she’d gone. The Lucy I knew would have never done that. Then again, the Lucy I knew would have never given up on me. When they put me in Central State Prison and she didn’t come, I knew it was over.
I turn off the shower and grab a towel.
“Breakfast is here,” Miles says through the door. “Oh, and I think I got some information for you.”
I swing the door open. “What information?”
“The ringside seats. Not everyone who paid was there. Antwon Cruz, a record producer out of Atlanta, was a no-show. But it was a packed house, there were no empty seats. So I called his office. Apparently, he sent someone from his staff instead. A guy named Paul Ford.” I listen quietly, waiting for his point. “I just Googled him. His partner, Sebastian, is Lucy’s assistant. She runs an art studio in Atlanta. I found an article about an exhibit she’s hosting next month. He was mentioned in it.”
I let out a slow breath and lean against the door frame.
“They must have come together.”
“She runs an art studio?” I drop my head and say quietly to myself, “Makes sense.”
“Sam, are you listening? You were right, she was there last night. Or at least, it’s possible that she was.”
I glance up at him. “Yeah, no, I heard you.”
He hands me a folded-up piece of paper. “It’s the address to her art studio.”
I take it from him and frown.
“If you don’t go talk to this girl, I’m going to go do it for you.”
I roll my eye
s.
“I’m serious. These girls, they mess with your head, Sam. Maybe not the chicks you drag up and down red carpets and bang in the back of the limo afterward. But this one”—he points to my head—“she’s in there deep. I can see it. So, please, for my sake…go talk to her, once and for all. Say goodbye, get closure, or do whatever you need to do so that you can forget about this girl and get on with your life. I need you focused on what’s important. Your career. Your next match. Okay? You hear me?”
I crease my eyebrows. “Yeah. I hear you.”
Chapter 6
Lucy
I sip my coffee and gaze at the beautiful painting before me. “This one’s my favorite,” I say, admiring the smooth flesh tones of the partially nude woman lying on her back amid her discarded clothes and tousled hair, carefully balancing a vibrant, feathery-winged bird on her delicately splayed fingers. She looks so carefree, like she has no worries in the world.
I envy her.
“Woman with a Parrot,” Sebastian reads the painting’s label aloud. “Looks more like a parakeet. You could paint a better parrot.”
“Are you comparing me to Gustave Courbet, one of the most important artists of the nineteenth century?”
“I’m not comparing. I’m saying you’re better than him.”
I laugh a short but loud laugh that echoes off the walls of the quiet museum. I quickly cover my mouth. “Gustave Courbet led the realism movement in France. He’s arguably one of the best realistic painters of all time.”
“Well, I think you’re better.”
“Sweet, sweet Sebastian,” I say, pressing my lips together over an amused smile. “You’ve got so much to learn.”
“Look, I may not have studied art in college, but that looks like a parakeet.”
“He’s right,” Paul says, teaming up with Sebastian. “It does look like a parakeet. I think you could paint a better parrot.”
I laugh quietly this time. “I love you guys, but you’re both crazy.”
Sebastian gives me a sideways glance. “Speaking of crazy, maybe now you can tell us what happened last night.”
Paul gives Sebastian a disapproving look, but Sebastian ignores him and raises his eyebrows at me expectantly. Clearly I’ve let the employee-employer line blur a bit too much. You’d think he was my older brother or something by the scornful look on his face.
“Nothing happened. I just”—I shake my head, unsure how to explain why I bolted from the arena before the fight was even over—“I just wanted to get out of there.” I had to get out of there. When Sam hit the mat, he looked at me. His eyes met mine and, if only for a second, he saw me. And I saw him. I saw him sitting at the kitchen table when he was twelve, pushing his hair out of his unusual eyes. I saw him in my bed protecting me in the dark, whispering I love you for the first time. I saw him lying on the grass beside me watching the planes fly over us. I felt his long fingers laced with mine. I felt his heart beating against my chest. And I felt my heart break into a thousand pieces, like a pane of glass shattering inside me. It hurt as much as losing him the first time. But once again, I had to let him go. And that’s exactly what I did when I walked out of there. I ran, actually, which wasn’t easy in my heels, but I was too busy wiping tears from my eyes to worry about my ridiculous choice in footwear, until one of my heels got caught in a sidewalk seam and broke off somewhere between West Thirty-Fourth and West Thirty-Sixth Streets. I was a barefoot bawling mess by the time I got to the hotel.
Suffice it to say it wasn’t the best night for me. Except that it was. Seeing Sam in that ring, hearing everyone cheering for him and calling him champ. It was incredible. I’ve never felt so happy for someone in all my life. I’m immeasurably proud of him. It might have been one of the best and worst nights of my entire life.
Sebastian stands between me and Woman with a Parrot and places his hands on my shoulders. “Okay, you know I love you. But you are acting a little bit crazy.”
I roll my eyes and shift my weight from one foot to the other.
“Are you pregnant?” he asks very seriously.
I let out a sharp puff of air. “No.” Can you imagine the look on Janice’s face if I told her I was having a shotgun wedding? I suppress a giggle.
“Are you sure? Because when my sister was pregnant, she acted crazy too. With a capital ‘C.’” He widens his suspicious eyes.
“Sebastian. I. Am. Not. Pregnant.”
“Well then, what is going on with you?”
“Nothing. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”
“You walked out of the Garden during the last two minutes of a title fight, featuring your favorite boxer, who won, by the way, because of the exhibit?” He shakes his head. “No, I’m not buying it.”
“Bas, drop it.” Paul winks at me.
“Yeah, knock it off. I have a lot on my mind, I’m not pregnant, and I don’t really want to keep talking about this. I left a boxing match early. I didn’t rob a bank. You can put my crazy card right back where you found it.”
“Fine. But if you take off like that again, without telling anyone where you’re going, I’m pulling it back out, and I’ll be forced to show it to Drew.”
Drew would have a heart attack if he knew I walked nine blocks alone in the dark, barefoot no less. I’ll definitely be leaving that detail out when I tell him about the trip. I cringe at the thought of telling him anything about it. At this point, I just want to pretend that it didn’t happen. I shouldn’t have come. All it’s done is left a new hole in my heart that I’ll have to pretend isn’t there.
“I’m sorry that I took off last night, I just didn’t feel good.”
“Crazy and nauseous. Hmm…Sounds like you’re pregnant.”
I hit Sebastian with my purse. “I am not pregnant. Now, let’s go so that we don’t miss our flight.”
“You’re back,” Drew says, greeting me as I walk through the front door.
“Hey,” I say, surprised to see him. He was supposed to leave for Philadelphia this morning. “What are you doing here?”
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me up into a big bear hug. “I rearranged my meetings tomorrow so that I can leave in the morning instead.”
“Oh,” I say with a wobbly voice. I was expecting to come home to an empty house and wallow in my sorrow and guilt alone.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie.
He kisses the top of my head and murmurs, “I missed you.”
I nod and wrap my arms around him. “I missed you too.”
“I didn’t like being here without you.”
“I thought you had to work all weekend.”
“I did. But when I wasn’t working, I was here alone. I’ve gotten used to you being here.” He smiles at me. “I’m so glad you decided to move in before the wedding.”
I rest my chin on his chest and force a weak smile. “Me too.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Mm-hmm.” I press my cheek to his chest, unable to look in his eyes when I answer.
“How was the fight?”
“Loud.”
He laughs and squeezes me in his arms. “Didn’t Sam Cole win?”
I swallow the hard lump in my throat and nod against his chest. “Yep.”
“I thought you’d be more excited.”
I shake my head and look up at him. “I’m just happy to be home. And to see you,” I say honestly. In his arms I feel quiet and calm, a welcome reprieve from the last twenty-four hours. “I’m glad you stayed.”
He unwraps my arms from around him and drags my bags over to the stairs. “Leave these here,” he says, taking my hand.
“What are you doing?” I laugh. “I need to unpack and take a shower.”
“Just a little surprise.”
It smells like he’s been cooking. I hope he made dinner. I’m starving. Our flight was delayed and all I’ve eaten today was the airline cookies they passed out on the plane. It’s well past dinnertime now.
&
nbsp; He pulls me into the kitchen, and my mouth pops open when I see flowers and candles flickering on the kitchen island, which he’s set for two. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone on a date, so I thought we could have one here tonight.”
My eyes mist over because he’s so incredibly sweet and thoughtful and I don’t deserve him. “Drew.”
“I had Sebastian text me when you landed, so everything’s warm.” He pulls a stool out for me to sit down at the island and busies himself in front of the stove. He returns moments later with a bottle of wine and two small plates of what looks like something amazing. “Lobster macaroni with gruyère and cheddar.”
“Oh, my God, thank you. I’m starving.” I quickly get a forkful and shove it into my mouth, moaning over the bite. “It’s so good.”
He smiles and pours us both a glass of wine. “Don’t fill up. There’s more.”
I widen my eyes and smile, a genuine smile, maybe the first one I’ve had all day. “This was a good surprise. Thank you.”
He leans in and kisses me. “You’re welcome.”
After the lobster mac, Drew presents me with a gorgeous fillet that is melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Then for dessert, fried cinnamon ice cream. It is the perfect meal and the perfect way to end a very crappy day.
Drew smiles at me and I smile at him, but he doesn’t say anything.
“What?”
I see a familiar look in his eyes, and I know exactly what. I’m frozen under his lustful stare, unsure how to tell him that I’m too raw from seeing Sam to be with him right now. I just need a day or two for everything to go back to normal, back to the way it was before I lost my mind and decided to go to New York. I anxiously bite my lip, which he takes as an invitation.
He presses his mouth to mine and kisses me, softly at first, and then deeply, taking my face in his hands. But instead of tasting him, I just taste dinner. I take a deep breath of his cologne and try to focus on how good he smells and how good he looks. I consider all the reasons he should be turning me on right now—besides the fact that he loves me…he’s handsome, he’s tall, he dresses well, he can cook—but I can focus only on why he isn’t.
