by Morgan Blaze
She took his hand gently, and her warmth flowed into him. “Thank you,” she half-whispered. “I know how hard that was for you. I could see it in your eyes. But you did it anyway, and I understand now.”
“Luka, I…”
“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to say another word.”
He shuddered. “Stay with me tonight,” he rasped. “Please.”
“I will.”
He stood and embraced her. For a long time he didn’t move, as if holding her could somehow change the past and create a new future—one where they didn’t have to be apart. Where he wasn’t damned to live in the shadow of his father’s rage. But the present, the reality, marched on unchanged.
Eventually he led her back to the bedroom. And with Luka in his arms, he finally fell into real sleep.
Chapter 8
For Luka, sleep didn’t come easy, or fast.
She laid there until the first light of dawn stained the windows, wondering if the pain would ever stop. Imagining the hell he’d been through—not just that night, but for years after with what must have been brutal training, and being shipped off to a war he never wanted to fight. Being separated from a family he needed to protect. All because of her.
Because she was trash, and everyone knew it.
At last she fell into a fitful doze, fragmented with unremembered nightmares that made her heart race and her breath freeze. When she woke fully, she was alone.
It stung to find him gone. She should’ve expected it, and it was probably easier for him this way. But she’d asked for this. She wanted to know the truth, and now she had it. Considering the circumstances, it was a miracle he’d even spoken to her when he got back.
Well, from now on she’d stay out of his life.
She got up and found her clothes, grateful that she’d driven here last night. She could have walked home, but it would be a good half-hour trek and she just didn’t have that much energy. She’d never felt this drained, this empty.
As she headed out of the bedroom, she heard a voice. Reese, speaking in low tones from what sounded like the kitchen.
And female laughter responded.
Dull weight settled in her gut. Had he really found someone else so soon? Or were they “just friends” because he was already involved?
No. He wouldn’t do that—not while she was still here. There had to be another explanation.
She peeked into the kitchen and immediately felt like a fool for ever thinking that. The girl at the table across from him had to be his little sister. She was twelve or thirteen, willowy and graceful with long, brown hair and blue eyes that were darker than his. Each of them had a mug, and there was a sketchpad between them with a half-finished pencil drawing that Luka couldn’t make out from here.
Reese stared at the drawing, and then looked at Georgia. “It’s a…giraffe.”
“No!” She giggled again and picked up the pencil beside the pad. “You’re terrible at this, you know.”
“You haven’t seen terrible yet. Wait until it’s my turn to draw.”
Laughing, she started to add to the picture. “Okay, you get two more guesses and then I win.”
Luka’s heart wrenched as she watched them together. She could feel the simple love between them, just as strong as her own relationship with her brothers. And they’d been kept apart for five years. It must’ve been awful for him, missing so much of her growing up.
She decided to leave. But as she turned to go, Reese said, “Hey, Luka. Want to join us?”
Georgia looked up in surprise, and a smile broke across her face. “I know you,” she said. “You work at Magic Mags, right?”
“Yes, I do.” Inwardly surrendering, Luka walked into the kitchen. “And you’re Georgia,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Hey, I bet you’re better at this than my brother.” She held up the sketchpad. “We’re playing Pictionary…sort of. This is a movie.”
Luka smiled. The drawing was actually pretty good. It was a fast sketch, but clearly a horse with ocean waves behind it. “Seabiscuit,” she said.
“Yes!” The girl’s laugh was infectious. “See, Reese? It’s not that hard.”
“Still looks like a giraffe to me.” He smirked and stood. “Want some coffee?” he said. “It’s probably not very good, but it’s still hot.”
“Sure. With cream and sugar, please.”
“Will do.”
As he headed for the counter, Luka sat down at the table and nodded to Georgia. “Don’t listen to him,” she said. “It doesn’t look anything like a giraffe. He’s just being a big brother.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” she said, grinning. “Do you have a big brother?”
“Three of them.”
“Wow! That must suck.”
“I heard that,” Reese called over his shoulder. “Come on, now. Big brothers aren’t all that bad.”
“Once in a while, anyway.” Luka winked, drawing a giggle from Georgia.
The girl flipped to a fresh page on the pad. “Wanna play?” she said. “I bet you draw better than him, too.”
“Well…all right. Maybe one round.” She took the pencil and laid the pad on the table. “I like movies,” she said. “Let me think of one, and I’ll give it a shot.”
Reese was suddenly beside her, setting a mug on the table. In it was the darkest coffee she’d ever seen. Adding cream had only turned it the color of mud—the stuff looked like it could walk and talk on its own. “Well, that looks…strong,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s the word. Or terrible.” He sat down beside her. “Don’t worry. I won’t be insulted if you take a pass.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “Looks like just considering a sip of that would be enough to wake me up.”
His genuine laughter startled a smile from her, and she concentrated on the blank paper instead. She couldn’t afford to start hoping again, when she knew there was no chance. “Okay, I’ve got something,” she said without looking up. “Here goes.”
She started sketching, a rough figure of a man in sunglasses standing on a road. After a minute she wondered if Georgia would know this movie—it had come out before even Luka was born, but she’d watched it with her brothers more than once, and by herself a few more times. It was a great movie. Still, she figured at least it would keep the girl guessing.
She sketched a second figure, taller, wearing a zippered jacket and holding an old-school portable TV. Then a cloud above him, a suggestion of rain. Finally she realized the room had gone completely silent.
Frowning, she looked up. They were both staring intently at the paper. “Um,” she said. “Isn’t anybody going to guess?”
“Wow,” Georgia breathed, with something close to reverence. “You’re really good. Reese, she can draw Tom Cruise!”
“And Dustin Hoffman,” he said.
“Yeah, I didn’t know what the old guy’s name was. But…wow.” Georgia grinned at her. “It’s Rain Man,” she said. “And it’s awesome. Can I keep it? Will you sign it for me?”
Luka blinked. “You want me to sign it.”
“Of course! You’re the artist.”
Her chest tightened, and the threat of tears pricked her eyes. “All right,” she said slowly. “Let me finish it, though.” She bent to the sketch, avoiding their gazes as she added a few trees, fleshed out the figures, and shaded the cloud. As a final touch, she drew a poker hand above the cloud where the sun would’ve been.
She hesitated, and then scribbled Luka Dawson hastily in the bottom right corner.
Dawson. She was a Dawson, not an artist. Not worthy of Reese Mathers.
Why was she still here?
She pushed the sketchpad toward Georgia and stood, struggling not to break down. “It’s all yours,” she said. “And I have to go.”
“Luka?” Reese stared at her with concern flooding his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just…I’ve got things to do
.” If she didn’t leave soon, she was going to lose it. “I’m sure I’ll see you around,” she said. “You too, Georgia. Thanks for the game.”
Reese got up. “Wait. I’ll walk you out.” He glanced at Georgia. “Will you be all right alone for a minute?”
“I’m thirteen, Reese,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to climb into the cabinets and drink drain cleaner. Promise.” A fresh smile surfaced as she said, “Bye, Luka. Thanks for the awesome picture.”
“You’re welcome.” She managed to sound normal, but the lump in her throat grew bigger. “See you later.”
Without waiting for Reese, she headed out of the kitchen.
He caught up to her at the front door. He didn’t touch her, and she was grateful for that. She might have screamed if he did. “What happened?” he said in a low voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Yeah. The ghost of her rotten reputation. “I’m fine,” she said. “I just have to get home, before my brothers do something stupid like come looking for me.”
“I could come with you,” he said.
Her heart froze. “Why?”
“Your paintings. I want to buy one, remember?”
Oh. That. “Look…it’s just not a good time right now,” she said. “I guess I could take pictures of them for you. Will that work?”
The clear disappointment on his face almost broke her resolve. “All right,” he said. “I’ll give you my number, and you can text them to me.”
She nodded, took her phone out and entered the number as he told her. “I’ll send them this morning,” she said as she tucked the phone back and reached for the door. “You can just let me know when you decide which one you want.”
“Luka.”
She couldn’t look at him. “What?”
“Still friends?”
A wave of fury spread through her, and she gripped the doorknob hard enough to hurt. She couldn’t tell if she was more pissed at him, or herself. “Yeah,” she said tightly. “Still friends.”
Before he could react, she yanked the door open and strode out.
* * * *
Reese managed to hold out a lot longer than he expected. He went back to the kitchen and chatted normally with Georgia for another half hour, until their mother came back from church and the two of them headed for the mall in Greenway. Once they’d gone, he started on the downstairs den, which he planned to gut before he knocked down one of the walls to extend the living room.
In the middle of hauling old furniture from the den to the basement, his phone went off. He finished bringing the armchair he was currently wresting with down, and then sat on the stairs and watched the messages from Luka come in. Images only, no words. Not even a hello.
After the last photo, he received a two-word text. That’s everything.
He’d already battened down the emotional hatches. It should have hurt, but he felt nothing. He hit reply on the text and tapped in Got them, thanks. Then he debated whether he should add a smiley at the end.
Five minutes later, he sent the message as written.
He downloaded all the images to his phone and picked three to send to Brett. The Wizard of Oz one, a storm-frothed lake seen from a beach strewn with bright plastic toys, and a woman from behind poised to enter a dark forest populated with gleaming eyes. Definitely not the painting of him. Even with all of his defenses up, that one stirred something deep and painful, something he just couldn’t face.
He tapped out a message—Here’s some of her stuff, let me know what your mother thinks—attached the images, and sent it. Then he headed back upstairs determined to work until he couldn’t move.
An hour later, he was boxing up the hundreds of books that lined two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves along the back wall when a message came in. He pulled his phone out. It was from Brett.
Allow me to translate Mom’s ecstatic screaming and fits of artistic joy. She says yes. How soon can you get her work here?
He smiled in spite of himself. He still hadn’t figured out how he’d actually get the paintings without her knowing, but maybe her brothers would help out with that. They had to know how good she was. He replied: Thanks, man. Will get them out ASAP, she doesn’t know I’m doing this. She’s never shown before.
It wasn’t long before the next message. Hell of a surprise for her. Mom says by Wed? She has this big monthly event for local artists, tons of guests, they’ll love this stuff.
Perfect. Somehow, he’d find a way to get them by Wednesday. Will do, I’ll try for tomorrow night. Be good to see you.
He moved to put the phone back when it buzzed again.
Same here. Your girl is amazing, can’t wait to meet her. I’m jealous.
“She’s not my girl,” Reese whispered to the empty room. “We’re just…friends.”
Something in him snapped. A black curtain of rage descended like a shroud, and with an incoherent roar he ran at the shelves, batting the heavy books to the floor in cascading piles, throwing a few of them hard across the room to crack the plaster walls. He ripped one of the shelves free and used it to bash a lamp on a small end table into splinters. Picked up the table and beat it against the floor, breaking it into senseless chunks.
With a single harsh sob, he collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor, where he let the blackness take him.
Chapter 9
Luka spent most of the day avoiding her brothers, until they finally got the hint and left her alone. She didn’t want any sympathy or teasing, and she definitely didn’t want to talk about her feelings. She just wanted to forget.
Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.
Sydney texted her a few times and called once. She ignored it. Once or twice, she glanced at the message from Reese until she couldn’t stand it anymore and deleted the whole string, images and all.
Got them, thanks. No comments, no indication that he’d so much as looked at the pictures. He couldn’t even pretend that he liked her work now. Part of her insisted that he was still acting just the way they’d arranged things—like a friend. She was the one who’d practically blown up without even telling him why.
The rest of her told that part to shut up.
She was still exhausted from the insane highs and lows she’d gone through last night and this morning. But after a few hours of lying on her bed and ignoring the world, she hadn’t even come close to sleeping. All of her thoughts blurred and tangled themselves in her head, until she was so furious that she had to do something.
So she got up, rummaged through her closet until she found the boxes she’d folded and stuffed in the back, and stomped out of her bedroom toward the attic.
The house seemed quiet. Either her brothers had left, or they weren’t going to risk incurring her wrath. Both options were fine with her. She unlocked the attic and went right to work.
It didn’t take long to assemble the boxes and load all of her paintings into them, even the unfinished one on the easel. She was careful to avoid looking at the image of Reese in the rain. Soon she had five boxes stuffed with stupid, broken dreams that needed to get out of her life.
She grabbed the first one, and started lugging it down the stairs.
Gage was sprawled on the couch, watching some action movie. She didn’t even acknowledge him as she dragged the box past and shoved it next to the front door. After a quick pause to catch her breath and shove her hair out of her face, she headed for the stairs again.
Unfortunately, Gage decided she was more fun than the movie. “Hey, woman,” he said, shifting to look over the back of the couch. “What’s all the banging for? You’re louder than the giant robots.”
“Spring cleaning.” She glowered at him. “I’m busy, Gage. Leave me alone.”
“But it’s not spring.”
“It’s an expression, moron.”
He straightened further and glanced toward the door. “Uh, Luka? Aren’t those your…”
“They’re none of your business.”
&
nbsp; “I’m telling Mark.”
“Go ahead. They’re none of his business, either.”
She practically ran back upstairs, without bothering to see if Gage would follow through on his threat. Not that it mattered. She’d made up her mind—no more idiotic hopes. No more pretending she could have better.
Yes, it was more about Reese than painting. But she needed a clean break, and this was the fastest way. She couldn’t kick Reese to the curb.
She’d never had him in the first place.
As she dragged the second box down to the landing, Mark materialized at the bottom of the stairs. She stopped and huffed at him, reminding herself to get back at Gage later. “Get out of the way,” she said.
“No.”
“I mean it, Mark. Move.”
“What are you doing?”
She rolled her eyes. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“Something stupid.”
“Mark…just move.”
“Make me.”
“Fine.” With a sigh, she pushed the box aside. “Jonah!”
“He’s not here.” Mark took the stairs two at a time and stopped in front of her, rubbing her shoulder. “Come on, Lu. What’s going on? If it’s Reese, I’ll—”
“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Going caveman on him isn’t going to help. Besides, it’s not him. It’s me.”
He frowned. “Why don’t I believe that?”
“It’s the truth.” She relaxed a little and glanced at the box. “I need to make a change,” she said. “Start over. I just can’t…”
“Can’t what?”
Before she could think of a way to respond that wouldn’t sound petty and impulsive, someone knocked loudly at the door. “I’ll get it,” Gage shouted as he barreled out of the kitchen and skidded to a halt. He yanked the door open, and said, “Oh. Hi, Sydney.”
Damn. She should’ve called back and told Syd not to worry.
“Hey, Gage,” she heard Sydney say. “Please tell me Luka’s here.”
Luka shook her head fiercely and waved her arms over her head, but Gage pointedly ignored her. “Yeah, she’s here,” he said, moving back. “You’re just in time for the drama, too.”