Just Look Up

by Courtney Walsh

  Lane watched her go, mostly to avoid meeting Ryan’s eyes.

  “Why are you afraid to admit you had fun?”

  “I’m not.” She straightened.

  He raised an eyebrow as if to question her reply.

  “I’m not afraid. It was fine. We have different versions of fun, that’s all.”

  “Fun is fun, Lane Kelley. And that was fun.” He set his helmet on the seat of the bike. “Even you have to admit it.”

  “This is a beautiful home.” They walked through the yard around the side of the house. “Who lives here?”

  But before Ryan could answer, she saw Jasper standing at the grill, a bottle of beer in one hand, a large spatula in the other.

  Lindsay emerged through the back door, stepping onto the deck wearing a white sundress and no shoes. Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a white headband positioned near the front of her hairline. She set a tray of meat down beside the grill and said something to Jasper.

  Jasper barely acknowledged her. Lindsay stared at him for a long moment, then finally walked away. As she did, her eyes fell on Lane, standing dumbly off to the side of the deck, horrified that somehow she’d been tricked into coming to dinner at Lindsay and Jasper’s gorgeous, expensive, sprawling home.

  “This is Lindsay’s house.” Lane practically whispered it.

  “Your parents didn’t tell you?” Ryan raked a hand through his hair. “Oh, man, Lane. I’m sorry.”

  She looked at him. How much did he know? Obviously he knew the man she’d thought she loved hadn’t wanted her after all. Wasn’t that enough? Ryan hadn’t been in the country when Jasper and Lindsay got married. Lane remembered because she’d stupidly come to Harbor Pointe that day, and after she saw Jasper and Lindsay leave the church in their wedding attire, she actually wished she’d had his shoulder to cry on.

  Somehow she had a feeling he never would’ve supported that marriage. The only other person whose support she had was Nate’s. He’d found her in her car outside the church. Dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt, it was clear he hadn’t been at the wedding.

  He didn’t say anything. Just sat with her in the car until she got tired of sitting, then made her go get a burger with him at Hazel’s. He chattered on about who knows what and made her forget, if only for a few minutes, that her entire family had betrayed her.

  It wasn’t right that he was lying in a hospital bed while the rest of them were here, having Sunday dinner like nothing had changed.

  “You okay?” Ryan had paused when Lane stopped walking, but now he stood in front of her, forcing her attention. “You look green.”

  Lane glanced toward the swimming pool beyond the deck. “Jasper and Lindsay live here.”

  She thought of her loft apartment in Chicago. She loved that place. She loved the tall windows and the view of Lake Michigan. She loved the way natural light streamed in even when she was trying to sleep past 6 a.m. She loved that it was open and perfect for entertaining, even though she never had anyone but Chloe over.

  It was a sign of success that she could afford a place like that in the city. And it was safe. To her, it was the safest place in the world.

  But this house was something else entirely. It was a sign of success no matter where you lived. The yard stretched on forever, and they obviously had every amenity a person could want—swimming pool, three-season room, outdoor showers for the days they spent at the pool or beach. She could only imagine what the inside was like. She bet Lindsay had hired a professional decorator to come in and make the place look even richer.

  Lane would’ve gone for a more cottage feel. White woodwork, distressed furniture. She would’ve pulled some of the ostentatiousness out of the place and created a home.

  Had Lindsay turned this house into a home?

  Lane always knew Jasper would be successful. He was a financial adviser. He knew money. Obviously he’d given her sister a good life.

  Did it matter if it was the life Lane was meant to have? That pool, that grill, that deck, those dogs—they all should have been hers.

  “Lane?”

  “I’m fine.” She shook the thoughts away. “I don’t feel so great. Do you think you could run me back to my parents’ house?”

  “Lane, you don’t have to keep running away.” His hands found her arms.

  Lane glanced over to the deck, only a few yards away, where her mother, Lindsay, Emily, and three women Lane didn’t recognize were standing.

  “What are you doing over there?” Her mother motioned for her to join them. “Come eat, Lane. Lord knows you could use the calories.”

  Lane’s breathing hitched.

  “She is awfully thin, Dottie. Don’t they have food in Chicago?”

  Lane didn’t move. She didn’t want to be the center of attention. Especially not here.

  “She just put away an Arcto-Burger from Dairy Dream,” Ryan called out. “With fries and a chocolate shake.”

  Lane tried to hide a smile.

  “That should shut them up, right?” Ryan stared at her with helpful eyes—too gorgeous for his own good.

  “Most of them know I’m lactose intolerant, but it’s the thought that counts.” She smiled just as her phone buzzed.

  He pulled it out of her hand before she could respond.

  “I need that for work.”

  “It’s Sunday.”

  “I have a big presentation—”

  “That will still be there after we eat.”

  She folded her arms in front of her, not unlike a petulant child.

  “I bet you haven’t thought about this stress box once since church. Why ruin it now?”

  She frowned. “Stress box? It’s a phone.”

  “It’s a ball of stress. Every time it goes off, you drop whatever you were doing and disappear for a few minutes. No one should be available 24-7. It’s not healthy. I’ll just hold on to it till after lunch.”

  She eyed him, firmly planting herself in front of him. “Fine. If you get to hold on to my phone, then I get to hold on to yours.”

  His head tilted as he regarded her for a long moment. “Deal.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a flip phone that had to be at least five or six years old.

  “I can’t believe this is your phone.”

  “I’m a simple guy, Lane Kelley. I don’t need any bells and whistles to shine up what I’ve got to offer.” He grinned at her and she resisted the urge to give him a playful shove. She couldn’t risk any more physical contact with Ryan Brooks, not after that motorcycle ride.

  She snatched the phone from his hand and examined it. She was surprised the thing still worked. “Is this even on?”

  He shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s Sunday.”

  She frowned. “So?”

  “I’m off the grid on Sunday.”

  She stared at him, trying to decide if he was kidding, but his steady expression didn’t change. “You’re serious.”

  “Are you intrigued?” His expression had gone lazy again, and something about it made her a little weak in the knees.

  Oh, please. What a cliché. Weak in the knees for a man? She knew better than that. She silently reprimanded herself for her middle school–esque behavior and stuck his phone in her purse. “We’ll trade back after we eat.”

  He smiled at her, and somehow she knew she’d just been conned into not only giving up her lifeline but also eating lunch at Lindsay and Jasper’s table.

  And the only thing that made it okay was the man whose hand had once again found the small of her back.

  CHAPTER

  18

  “YOU LIKE HER.” Hailey’s singsongy voice reminded Ryan of when they were kids.

  Sometimes his sister could be so obnoxious.

  “Would you knock it off?” Ryan pulled a Coke from a galvanized tub filled with ice and cans of soda.

  “You’re completely smitten with her; I can see it all over your face.”

  R
yan’s attention wandered across the yard to where Lane stood, chatting with Emily and sipping a bottle of water. Every once in a while, her eyes found his, but she always pulled them away before acknowledging a connection.

  He found this flirtatious dance they were pretending not to do completely intoxicating, but that was not his sister’s business.

  “Why don’t we talk about something other than my love life?” Ryan took a seat next to Hailey, who’d claimed a lawn chair by the pool and was watching Jack like a hawk.

  “Stay in the shallow end,” she called out, then to Ryan: “I hate pools.”

  “Let him have fun. He’s got those stupid floaties on.”

  “He could still drown.”

  “Jeremy’s in there,” Ryan said with a nod toward Lane’s youngest brother.

  Hailey’s gaze fell on Jer and he could’ve sworn her cheeks turned pink.

  “Maybe we should talk about your love life. . . .”

  Hailey shot him a look intended to shut him up.

  “Little sister, you have a crush.” There was nothing he loved more than teasing his sister, but when her face turned serious, he stopped. “What is it?”

  She gave a soft shrug, then glanced back at Jack. “I can’t think about dating anyone right now. Jack is the only man I’m going to have in my life for a long time.”

  Ryan watched as his nephew pulled himself out of the water onto the top step, then launched himself straight into Jeremy’s arms. Jer picked him up and tossed him but somehow managed to be there before Jack’s head went underwater. Jack squealed with the delight of a small child who still had hope of seeing his dreams come true.

  “Hailey, just because Jack’s dad was a jerk doesn’t mean you’re going to spend the rest of your life alone.”

  Hailey’s smile came with glassy eyes. “Of course not. I’ve got you.”

  He heard what she wasn’t saying. Ryan didn’t have much room to talk. It wasn’t like he’d made great strides in putting himself out there—lately none of his “relationships” had gone beyond two or three dates. Even his interest in Lane Kelley seemed safe. After all, she was going back to Chicago that afternoon.

  Besides, they were friends. They’d always been just friends.

  “If you’re not careful, Lane Kelley is going to see through the cracks in your armor.”

  Ryan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes still focused on the young swimmers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Everyone here knows you as this happy-go-lucky, super-charming guy,” Hailey said. “But I know the real you.”

  “You’re saying I’m not charming?” He grinned at her.

  “I’m saying you hide behind your sense of humor.” Hailey reached over and put a hand on his. “I think it’s great if you like her, big brother. She’s smart, successful, beautiful, and if I remember right, you kind of always had a thing for her.”

  A dangerous combination. Especially for him. Hailey was right: he was attracted to Lane. He found himself thinking about her whenever she was—and wasn’t—around. He told himself it was the thrill of the chase, but even he knew better. This girl had gotten under his skin.

  If he wasn’t careful, this infatuation could turn into the real thing. And then what? Did he really want to deal with that kind of rejection?

  Get it through your head, Brooks. She’s off-limits to you. Lane had a boyfriend and lived hours away. Ryan had a business to get off the ground, family members to watch over, and no plans to move to the city. He didn’t have time to acknowledge, let alone act on, these feelings. And yet there was something about her . . .

  He stood and glanced down at his sister. “You’re wrong, kid,” he said. “It was just a motorcycle ride.”

  Lane hated to admit it, but every time Ryan walked away from her, she found herself searching for him as if he were her lifeboat in a sea of sharks. Emily had rushed off to tend to one of her kids, leaving Lane feeling even more exposed. People she didn’t know milled around a table that had been filled with food—the kind she used to enjoy but would not allow herself to eat now. It was an odd assortment of picnic foods and breakfast items, as though nobody could make up their mind which meal they were hungry for. Potato salad and deviled eggs were on one side while freshly made cinnamon rolls and sausage-and-egg casserole were on the other.

  Not too many years ago, Lane would’ve helped herself to all of it, but now she knew better. She eyed a bowl of fruit and the chicken on the grill. She’d allow herself those things. Nothing more.

  Ryan sat by the pool with his sister, watching while Jack swam. Everyone looked so content here. Happy and peaceful. But all Lane could think about was the phone in Ryan’s pocket and the presentation she wasn’t working on.

  And Jasper. And Lindsay.

  And the way it had felt to have permission to wrap her arms around Ryan Brooks while he navigated sharp turns on a motorcycle.

  He was right—she didn’t want to admit it had been fun. But why?

  She glanced at Lindsay and Jasper every so often, doing her best to appear nonchalant, but mostly still humiliated by what they’d done to her. Did everyone look at her like the cast-off sister who couldn’t keep her fiancé’s eyes from wandering? Did they tally up her faults to explain Jasper’s choice? Was there a chart out there somewhere detailing her flaws compared to Lindsay’s perfections? A number system to compare the two sisters in all the categories that mattered when choosing the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?

  Her eyes found Jasper again, whom she’d caught looking at her more than once. He still stood at the grill, nursing another beer and talking with a guy Lane didn’t recognize.

  Jasper wasn’t just her first boyfriend—he was her first everything. Her first kiss. Her first slow dance. Her first “I love you.”

  They’d met at school at the very end of her freshman year. He was a year older, working as a resident assistant on one of the guys’ floors of her dorm. Most of the students were already preparing to leave at the end of a long week of finals, packing, saying good-bye. Lane wasn’t in a rush. She’d arranged to stay on campus and take a few classes over the summer, much to her mother’s dismay. But Lane knew if she went home, she’d fall back into her old habits, and the reminders of what she’d been were still too fresh. They’d surely sidetrack her progress.

  Earlier in the year, at the suggestion of her roommate, Shannon, she’d started exercising as a way to deal with the stress of school, of growing up, of figuring out what came next. The constant pressure to get better grades, accumulate more service hours, make a better impression, build her résumé, weighed on her like a pile of bricks in her backpack, always dragging her down, nagging for her attention.

  “Come with me,” Shannon had said. “It’ll be fun. And you need to take a break. You’ve been sitting in that chair for hours.” Lane had been working on her first major college paper at that point, and Shannon was right. She needed a break. But kickboxing? With her athlete of a roommate?

  But Shannon was so encouraging and kind, Lane found herself agreeing to go.

  She put on a pair of old yoga pants and a T-shirt and trudged over to the field house where the class was being held. She stood in the back, doing her best to stay hidden and avoid the mirror in front of her. The music started and the teacher, Amber, took her spot at the front of the room. Amber was one of those girls, the kind Maddie and Sabrina and Ashley would’ve welcomed into their circle, no questions asked. Spunky, bubbly, thin, Amber was a physical therapy major with a keen interest in fitness, and she was not messing around.

  “I don’t want any excuses today!” her chirpy voice shouted into a headset microphone. “If you want to get fit, you’re going to have to work for it! Are you ready to work?”

  Amber spoke in exclamation points for forty-five minutes straight, and more than once Lane thought for sure she was about to literally die. But every time she lost some of her luster, Amber shouted, “There’s no excuse not to live your
best life, and your best life starts by not giving up! Let’s move!”

  Lane glanced up toward the front of the class and met Amber’s eyes. She expected Amber to judge her—overweight, struggling, hiding in the back—but Amber gave her a “You’ve got this, girl!” and it gave Lane the strength to power through until the end of the class.

  Afterward, the limber instructor bounced—the woman hadn’t even broken a sweat—over to Lane and handed her a bottle of water. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

  She wanted to assure Amber she would not be back, but instead she just said, “I came with my roommate.”

  “So it was your first class?”

  Lane nodded and took a drink of water, wondering if a person could drown by drinking water while they were trying—and failing—to catch their breath.

  “Wow, usually people have to sit down at their first class.”

  Lane stopped midswig. “I didn’t know sitting down was an option.”

  Amber laughed. “You did really well. I hope you come back.” She smiled, a genuine smile that shamed Lane because she’d pegged her for one of the fake, dull types.

  This girl with rock-hard abs who could pass off tight shorts and a sports bra as a legitimate outfit had just paid her a compliment. And it was all the encouragement she needed.

  By the time she met Jasper, Lane had turned into a gym rat. She was a different person, and the exercise had given her something besides her studies to focus on. She never missed a day. With Shannon’s help, she started making better food choices, and before long, she had dropped four sizes.

  She’d probably seen Jasper on campus or in the dorms at some point over the past year, but she knew the guys at her school weren’t looking for girls like her, so she didn’t pay attention. That day, though, after a lengthy week of finals, she headed into the nearly empty cafeteria and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was still early enough for scrambled eggs and a banana and maybe reading something that wasn’t about the ancient Mayans. She had filled her tray and was making her way to a table in the back when the door opened and a small group of guys walked in, laughing loudly the way immature college guys did.