Preston Brothers: Lucas Part 14

She looks up, her expression unreadable. Do you even miss me, Laney? "Your ex-girlfriend's coming. Does she know about Roxy?"

My shoulders tense, and f.u.c.k f.u.c.k f.u.c.k Cooper Kennedy. "Hey, Lois." Grace spits. "Here to ruin another relations.h.i.+p?"

Lane's eyes narrow at Grace. "No." She looks at me. "I'm here for Cooper."

I've never yelled at Lachlan before. I discipline him. Tell him what he's done wrong. Talk him through it the way I'd seen Mom do with the rest of us. I've never shouted at him. Called him names. But I did.

Two minutes ago he spilled his water on the kitchen table during Sunday breakfast, and I called him a s.h.i.+t and told him to go to his room.

The table went silent.

He went to his room.

Now the others are looking at me like I've lost my mind. I have. Because this morning I went for my run and turned left at the crossroads. Cooper's car was in her driveway. I can still feel the cold steel of her chain-link fence I used to hold myself up while I puked.

The twins stand, leave the room.

Logan says, "What the f.u.c.k, dude?"

"Go check on your brother," Dad tells him, his tone stern. And so Logan goes, leaving me with Leo and Dad and a room full of anger and regret.

"Is this about Lane and Cooper?" Leo asks.

"Leo," Dad warns. At least he's on my side. He knows what I'm going through.

"No!" Leo thumps his fist on the table, and my gaze snaps to him. "I'm sick of this. You've been moping around the house for weeks and it's bulls.h.i.+t. If you're p.i.s.sed, be p.i.s.sed, but don't be mad at her for finally seeing the light."

"Leo." Dad sighs, shaking his head. "That's enough."

But apparently, Leo doesn't think so. "She's had to sit around and watch you date girl after girl for three years now. Three years she's kept her mouth shut, waiting for you to see her, and so she got sick of waiting! So what? She's too good for you anyway!"

"Why do you keep saying that?" I ask, my back straight, my eyes on his.

"Because she is. You don't even know half the s.h.i.+t you've done to her because you're f.u.c.king blind, Lucas."

"Watch your language," Dad snaps.

My jaw ticks. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah?" Leo says, leaning forward, his eyes filled with rage. "When she was fifteen, she went through a jewelry-making phase. You remember that?"

"Yeah. So?"

"You remember when she set up a table at the craft market to sell them?"

Vaguely.

"You don't remember because you weren't there. She sold six things that day. One to Dad and one each to the rest of us. Lucy got six items of jewelry that Christmas. And the worst part is that she told you about it, reminded you of it so many times, and you promised her you'd be there. She had two chairs set up behind the table. One for her and one for you but you didn't show! You were here, in the lake, with Dumb Name and a bunch of girls and you forgot about her. And she probably didn't tell you how badly you hurt her or that it even happened at all because that's who she is, and that's why she's too good for you."

I look over at Dad hoping he shows some kind of sign that it isn't true, that it never happened. He nods, but he won't look at me. And I feel my heart sinking, anch.o.r.ed to the twisting knot in my gut.

Leo stands, his fists balled. "Suck it up and quit being an a.s.shole to everyone around you." He leaves out the back door and calls out for the twins, probably making sure I haven't scarred them, too.

"They're just friends," Dad says.

"Leo and Lane?"

He shakes his head. "Lane and Cooper. Brian told me they're just friends. For now, anyway."

"I went to see her this morning when I was out on my run," I admit. "His car was in the driveway."

"He comes home on weekends now that he's coaching over at the high school. He doesn't like Lane walking home from work late on Sat.u.r.day nights, so he lends her his car. That's all it is."

I swallow loudly, but the pain doesn't fade. "Eat up," he says. "You got a long day of making it up to Lachlan. The kid wors.h.i.+ps you, Luke. Don't give him a reason to change that."

I force a smile. "Logan's up there with him. Who knows? Maybe Lachy can have a new brother to look up to."

"Jesus Christ," Dad mumbles, rubbing his eyes. "Eat quick."

LOIS.

Cooper doesn't know I have a door that leads directly to my room. He doesn't know what my room looks like. He doesn't even know what the inside of my house looks like. The closest he's gotten is where he is now, on my doorstep, knocking and waiting for me to answer.

I grab his keys off the coffee table and open the door. "Hey."

"Hey." He smiles brightly, his body glistening with sweat from the run over here. His parents' house is fifteen miles away in a secure, gated community, and for the past three weeks (since he found out I walk home from work at midnight) he's lent me his car so I don't have to walk. I tried to decline, numerous times, but he was adamant and I was frustrated, so I agreed. It wasn't the first time he showed that he genuinely cared about me. Especially considering he understood, without a doubt, that my v.a.g.i.n.a was pretty much its own secure, gated community.

"Thanks for lending me your car," I tell him, handing him the keys.

His gaze trails from my messy bed-hair to my flannel pajamas and down to my cotton socks. "Nice to see you got all dressed up for me."

I shove his shoulder. "Shut up."

After mocking hurt, he says, "Let me take you out to lunch. I'll even allow myself to be seen in public with you exactly as you are."

I let myself smile. "You're going to regret that." And I step in the house, slip on my shoes, shout, "Dad, I'm going out for lunch!"

Cooper doesn't bat an eyelid. "Is your dad home?" he asks, following me to his car.

"Yep."

"Can I meet him?"

I come to a halt and turn to him. "Why?"

He shrugs.

"It's not like we're dating, right?"

He walks past me to open my car door, his smirk on full display. "Yet."

Cooper ignores the looks from everyone when we walk into the busy Applebee's. Kids from school are here, probably nursing hangovers from the night before. Families sit, enjoying their meals, and then there's me, pajamas and sungla.s.ses, and I'm embarra.s.sed for him. "Let's go." I yank his arm, begging to leave.

"No." He pulls back, laughing as he does. "No regrets, Sanders."

Swear, "No regrets" is Cooper Kennedy's mission statement for his life.

After emotionally breaking down in his car the day after I was (as he puts it) "smashed and dashed" upon, he finally drove me home. We stayed in his car, sitting idle in my driveway, while I waited for the pain to fade. I didn't want to go in the house, in my room, where memories of Lucas would for sure invade me. So I sat, staring out the winds.h.i.+eld until he broke the silence. "It might hurt less if you get it off your chest, you know?"

I didn't want to. Not with him. So he said, "Want to punch something?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Is her name Grace?"

I shook my head. "It's not her fault."

"So... I'm guessing that technically, she's the woman scorned." He paused a beat. "So why are you so mad?"

I faced him, eyes thinned to slits. "I could punch you," I told him.

He smirked. "You could try."

I did try. His arm was nothing but muscle. And so he laughed, put his car in gear, and reversed out the driveway. For the second time that day, I thought he was taking me somewhere to kill me, and as dramatic as it sounds, I didn't have it in me to argue.

He took me to his house, past the guard at the gate, through the pristine, quiet streets of his neighborhood until his car was parked safely in his garage. He got out, opened my door, and said, "Let's go."

So off we went, through his enormous house, past the large kitchen, through the giant sliding doors, walked through the backyard, and into another building that housed his own personal gym.

"Take off your sweater," he said.

I scoffed.

He smirked. "We're about to get hot and sweaty."

"You're such a d.i.c.k."

I started to leave but he grasped my arm, and when I turned to face him, he was holding a pair of boxing gloves. He pointed to the punching bag hanging in the corner of the room, strapped the gloves to my hands and said, "Better out than in."

I don't know how long he watched me hit a stupid bag, release my stupid tears, yell out stupid things, but when he stopped me, his arms around my entire body, I felt weak. Weak and stupid. I collapsed on the floor and looked up at him. He held my face in his hands, his thumbs wiping my cheeks, removing the sweat mixed with tears. He seemed sad, sorry for the pathetic girl he didn't know. His eyes searched mine as he said, "I'm sorry he hurt you, but hurting yourself isn't going to change that. You can't control what people do or how they treat you. You can only control how you react to it." He squatted in front of me, his fist out ready to b.u.mp. "No regrets, Sanders."

I inhaled deeply, let his words sink just as far, then I b.u.mped his fist. "No regrets."

Chapter Twelve.

LUCAS.

Today, we skipped Sunday breakfast. Because today, Brian's coming over so we can meet his new girlfriend. I'm sure Brian would have told Lane, asked her to join them and she will because she does everything her dad asks of her.

There's a knock on my apartment door and for a moment, I think it's Lane. But Lane doesn't knock. She just walks in, comments on the state of my apartment and then starts was.h.i.+ng dishes.

The knock sounds again.

"Yeah?" I call out.

"It's Leo."

I get up, open the door, sit back on the couch and stare at the blank television like I'd been doing all morning.

He plops down next to me, his scrawny frame a contrast to mine. "I love this episode," he jokes, but I don't find it funny. After a sigh, he says, "I owe you an apology for what I said last week."

"It's fine," I murmur.

Silence pa.s.ses. He breaks it. "She misses you, Luke."

I face him, my heart in my throat. "She tell you that?"

He shakes his head, his eyes as sorry as I feel. "She didn't need to. We go to the same school, I see her around, talk to her sometimes. She's not the same. She never is when you guys fight like this."

"We're not fighting." I look back at the screen. "She hates me."

"How bad did you screw up?" he asks, and I can hear the frustration in his voice.

Outside, a car pulls up, doors slam, and Lachlan shouts, "Laney's here!"

Lachlan seems happy, sitting at the picnic table out in the yard next to his G.o.dmother while she plates up his food. The sun's out, s.h.i.+ning brightly on both our families, but my mood is dark, my conscience darker.

She said, "Hey, Luke," when she got here. Hasn't said a word since, at least not to me.