I couldn’t see much, just the light as it shined on the bottom of his large bed.
I opened the door a little further and slithered through the small opening, careful not to make any noise or let too much light in. I closed the door quietly behind me, shutting out the light once and for all. I extended my hands forward and felt around as I walked in the direction of his bed.
When I finally reached the mattress, I lifted my knee and climbed up. I sensed his body nearby, though I couldn’t see it. I could hear him breathing, slow and steady. I could smell him, familiar and comforting.
I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there; and that was all that mattered.
I climbed under the blankets and dropped my head against the empty pillow on the left side of the bed. As much as I wanted to reach forward, touch him, and let him know I was there, I didn’t. I simply stayed still, staring in his direction until my eyes felt heavy.
And then I fell asleep again.
But before I knew it, the sound of Luke’s alarm had my eyes snapping open. The sound wasn’t anything smooth or melodic like I normally preferred. Instead, Luke’s alarm was a series of shrill, monotonous beeps. And in a way, I wasn’t surprised.
How very
Luke
of him.
His body moved next to mine as he reached toward the opposite bedside table and killed the alarm.
He fell back against to the bed and took a deep breath as he stretched his arms. His hand brushed across the top of my head, and I waited for him to jump, yell, or even punch me, but all I heard was a light snicker.
He didn’t say a word; he simply turned to his side, and I imagined he stared in my direction. But I still couldn’t see him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, letting him know I was awake. “I just… I didn’t want to be alone.”
Luke didn’t move; he didn’t scoot forward, take my hand, or even offer a reassuring hug. He let out another slow breath, and I reached forward to find his hand. When my fingers brushed against his, he gripped them tightly.
I tried to smile even though I knew he couldn’t see me. I didn’t want him to hear the sadness in my voice. I didn’t want him to sense my fear.
Luke had enough on his plate without having to worry about me.
“Hey,” I whispered, hoping that he’d humor one simple request.
“Hmm?”
“One last
truth
?”
He propped himself up on his elbow, and the moonlight caught the sincerity in his dark eyes. “Sure.”
“When did you know?” I asked, blinking heavily.
I thought I’d have to elaborate, but a tired laugh escaped his throat, and I could tell he’d understood my question just fine.
“Well,” he said, and he sounded groggy and tired. A long yawn escaped him, and he shook his head and widened his eyes. “I’d embarrassed you—
I’m sorry, by the way
—by eavesdropping on your conversation with Matt at the café. And then you played hooky and skipped our next patrol so you wouldn’t have to see me, so I came by the house to see you instead.”
I half-laughed as I remembered how angry I’d been when I’d opened the door to find him standing on the porch with a bowl of soup and a smile.
“You weren’t very nice to me that night, just FYI,” he added, and then he tilted his head. “You wouldn’t even look at me; you just stomped upstairs, and I sat down to eat with Matt. He told me about your parents over dinner, and I’d felt like a jerk for the rude things I’d said to you. I hadn’t known…. And after that… I honestly thought I’d never see you again. I thought you’d quit the project and stay as far away from the station as possible. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.” He blinked a few times and his gaze drifted down to the mattress. “But then you came back. And I turned the corner into the break room that Saturday morning, and you were standing there with my coffee cup in hand and a stupid grin on your lips.”
I smirked as he looked back up to me.
“I couldn’t believe how much courage you had, kid,” he said, meeting my stare. “And I don’t know… I just knew, and that was the defining moment. I knew I loved you.”
Chapter Eight
Thursday, June 06 | 10:00 a.m.
Luke rolled out of bed shortly thereafter.
Leaving me with instructions to stay put, get comfortable, and go back to sleep, he left the apartment to tackle his early morning, five-mile run—a masochistic torture I knew I’d never understand.
I don’t remember hearing him return; I slept right through the next six hours.
It was 10 o’clock when I finally woke up, and my eyes fluttered rapidly as they adjusted to the mid-morning sunlight shining through Luke’s bedroom window.
“Ten o’clock,” I said, rolling over to steal a second glance at the alarm.
I buried my head in Luke’s pillow, took a deep breath, and let his familiar scent fill my lungs. A small smile tugged at the corner of my lip as I snuggled a little deeper into his blankets, and I pressed my eyes shut once again.
Six hours of dreamless sleep…. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
“Long before Piqua,” I said aloud, and then I opened my eyes again.
I didn’t put much thought into the fact that I’d finally gotten some sleep; after all, each night came with its own set of surprises. I wasn’t about to get excited about the possibility of things getting better all at once.
Sleep….
It was probably just a fluke. I couldn’t have gotten that lucky twice.
I rolled out of bed and retrieved my overnight bags from the guest bedroom across the hall. Carrying them back to the bathroom, I shut the door behind me and tossed them in the corner. I stood in the center of the white tiled floor for a few long minutes, and I never once took my eyes off the shower stall in the nearby corner.
“You can do this, Julie,” I said quietly. Swallowing hard, I took a step forward, grabbed the silver handle, and opened the frameless glass door.
Leaning the top half of my body inside the shower stall, I turned the knob and started the hot water. Closing the door again, I backed away and sat down on the closed toilet seat.
1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10….
I leaned forward, dropped my head into my hands, and closed my eyes.
I waited for the terrible visions to strike. I kept waiting for the memories to flash before my eyes, reminding me exactly why it’d been weeks since I’d found the nerve to stand under a hot stream of water.
I listened as the water pelted the bottom of the shower stall, and I knew there was no way I’d ever find the courage to take that next step.
I couldn’t believe how much courage you had, kid. And I don’t know… I just knew, and that was the defining moment. I knew I loved you.
Courage.
I scoffed and opened my eyes. Letting my stare drift toward the shower once again, I swallowed hard and stood up.
How could Luke possibly think I had a single courageous bone in my body? Didn’t he know me at all? I was the most terrified person in the world; I’d never faced my fears by freewill. Never.
I took a step forward, opened the shower door, and reached inside to turn off the water.
I pulled my bags off the floor and left the bathroom, and the sinking feeling of defeat lingered in my stomach the whole way down the hallway and into the living room.
I walked for the front door with every intention of not coming back—I couldn’t handle the added stress of not having a place to clean up—but a piece of paper taped above the handle stopped me in my tracks. I readjusted the bags on my shoulder before I reached forward and took the note in hand.
Jules,
Please lock up if you go out.
–Luke
He’d taped a small key to the bottom of his nine-word note. I pulled the key off, folded the piece of paper into a square, and tucked both inside my bag. Turning the lock on the doorknob before I let myself out, I pulled the door shut behind me and left Luke’s apartment.
I considered returning to Grace and Lonnie’s house for only a few minutes—long enough to take a quick bath. But when I remembered just how put-off Lonnie had sounded the night before, I chose to consider other options.
Considering the way our argument unfolded outside the dry-cleaners’, I knew better than to think that Kara would even consider opening her door if I showed up asking for a favor.
And then I thought… well, I could always use Derek’s spare key to get into his house, but that idea seemed a little too desperate. I wasn’t really sure he’d be thrilled to learn—once he finally came back—that I’d so carelessly decided that I had some kind of right to break in and violate his personal space.
No, probably not such a great idea.
So that left me with one option.
“Hey,” Matt said, opening the door to let me in.
The walk to Bruno’s had only taken about five minutes, and I was glad that someone had been there to let me inside. Matt, though, didn’t seem half as excited to see me as I was to see him.
“Hey,” I said, shutting the door behind me as Matt stomped back to the living room. Still dressed in his pajamas and house slippers, my cousin looked as if he didn’t have the slightest bit of motivation to do anything for the rest of the day. His hair was mussed and unkempt, and the slightest bit of stubble shadowed the lower half of his face.
Now, coming from the girl with a giant, swollen, purple eye, I knew I didn’t have much room to talk, but Matt looked like death.
He threw himself back on the couch, kicked his feet up on a stack of pillows, and glued his eyes on the TV.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen. “Dad said you were staying with….”
“No,” I said, readjusting the heavy bags on my shoulder. “She’s not really happy with me right now, so….”
“Right,” he said, sounding the slightest bit apologetic. He kept looking at the screen, though I’m not sure he was actually watching it. It almost seemed as though he stared for the purpose of having something to look at.
“Mattie,” I said, taking a step forward. “Do you want to talk about—”
“What are you doing here, Julie?” he asked again, this time turning around to look at me.
I couldn’t tell if the red flushing in his cheeks stemmed from sadness or anger, but either way I figured it was best to just cut to the chase. Provoking an angry Little was like provoking an angry bear.
“I just needed to use the bathroom,” I said, nodding to the bags on my side. “Just wanted a quick bath, that’s all.”
Matt eyed the bags on my arm. A sympathetic smile crossed his lips for only a brief second, and then he nodded.
“First door at the top of the steps,” he said, nodding at the staircase behind me. “Dad and Bruno are at the station, so no hurry.”
I squinted at him, wondering what he could’ve possibly meant by
no hurry
. Was there a reason why I
should’ve
been in a hurry?
Reading into my expression, Matt shrugged.
“I’m just telling you to take your time, Julie,” he said. “Do what you need to do, and you’ll have plenty of time to get back to Luke’s before anyone knows you were ever here.”
Matt managed a simple smile, but I could see that it hurt him to muster even that much.
I didn’t have to question how Matt knew I’d stayed with Luke. He knew me too well. If not Kara’s, then Luke’s. Simple as that.
“Thanks,” I said, matching his half-smile.
I turned and headed for the stairs, but I looked back to my cousin before I took a single step up toward the second floor.
“Mattie,” I said, clearing my throat. He turned back and looked at me, and the faintest layer of moisture rested at the bottom of his eyes. Seeing the sadness creep further to the surface, I dropped my bags on the floor and returned to the living room. I approached him cautiously, unsure as to whether or not he’d take kindly to my closeness. I knelt down on the floor next to the couch, reached forward to take his clammy hand, and held his fingers tight beneath mine.
I expected him to pull away, but he only held on with the same strength that I held him. A single tear dropped to his cheek, and I dropped my head forward and shed a few of my own.
I didn’t know what to say.
I could’ve given him a speech about how I’d been in his shoes a hundred times before. I could’ve told him that I’ve been in that place where you think all is lost, and it feels like there’s no way that it’s ever going to get better. I could’ve gone on for hours about the future and how all he needed was a little faith to know that things would get better.
But that’s not what he needed.
So I held his hand and cried with him… for the next three hours.
Thursday, June 06 | 5:00 p.m.
I found Luke on the couch leaning over a pile of bills and other random junk mail. He’d transformed the coffee table into a makeshift desk; there was a spread of papers (color-coded and labeled), paper clips, a stapler, a calculator, and an electronic label maker.
He looked up as I came in, but only long enough to force a smile around the ink pen pressed between his lips.
“Hey,” I said, hanging my purse on a nearby coatrack.
“Hey, kid,” he said, pulling the pen out of his mouth. He looked back down at his paperwork for a moment, and then he started sifting through the colored paperclips. He eventually found the one he’d been looking for—baby blue—and then looked back up to me. “Good day?”
Hmm… good question.
After trying to (unsuccessfully) talk myself into a shower and ending up at Bruno’s, I spent the better part of the morning talking and crying with Matt; listening to him talk about his heartache had been just as emotionally taxing as living through a break-up of my own.
Matt fell asleep on the couch sometime after two o’clock, and it was only after I was certain he was sleeping soundly that I finally went upstairs and enjoyed a long, long, long, hot bath. Bruno’s bathroom—I remembered vividly—was just as clean as Luke’s, and that made me feel a lot more comfortable with the fact that I’d stewed in his Jacuzzi tub for well over an hour.