When he turned in the parking lot, the patrol car was headed out and Lucky was still carrying his suitcases inside. Even from inside his truck, he saw how defeated Lucky looked. He had his head down and his shoulders were rolled forward, as if they held the weight of the world. Lucky glanced behind him when Damon closed his truck door. For a moment, Damon swore Lucky’s shoulders dipped even lower before he visibly straightened. He waited for Damon to reach the stairs.
“Is that your only bags or are there more in the car?”
“This is it.”
Damon eyed the luggage. Lucky had two bags strapped together to make them easier to carry in one hand. In the other, he had another suitcase and there was a duffle bag hanging from his shoulder. With a nod, Damon jogged up the stairs and relieved Lucky of the two bags that were strapped together. Together, they headed into the apartment. The place had been mostly empty since Tobin moved in with Sergio. Lucky had stayed there for a few weeks several months back. That was it. To Damon, the apartment was the place he had given to his son’s only love. He didn’t know if he could handle anyone else moving in. Damon didn’t know why he hadn’t hesitated to offer the place to Lucky, especially since he wasn’t sure he even liked Lucky sometimes. Lucky always turned up when he was in trouble—like a bad penny. Maybe Damon just had a soft spot for bad things. After all, most people had considered his son a lost cause.
Neither of them spoke until they were inside. “I’m sorry.” Lucky didn’t look Damon’s way as he made the apology.
“Don’t be. If you had called first, I would have given you the new alarm code.”
With his gaze locked on his hands, Lucky nodded as he unnecessarily rearranged his bags. “I didn’t want to wake you.” He flashed Damon an unnatural smile. It looked strained as hell. “I suppose this was worse.”
Damon brushed the claim aside. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Lucky lifted one shoulder in an uncomfortable-looking shrug. “Not really.”
This was another example of why Damon always wanted to shake the shit out of Lucky. “Did I get you in trouble?”
“I’m a grown man. You can’t get me in trouble.”
Damon bit back a growl. “You know what I mean.”
Lucky shook his head. “This has nothing to do with you. Thank you for being my friend.”
Fuck. That was how Lucky did it. He would go from fake as hell to blindly vulnerable in a heartbeat.
Damon found himself shifting from foot to foot. “I guess I should let you settle in. Don’t bankrupt me by drinking the bar dry.”
A bright smile exploded across Lucky’s face. “You know me well.”
He really didn’t. Damon wasn’t sure anyone knew Lucky at all. “See you in a few hours.”
Lucky nodded.
Damon turned away before he did something stupid—like offer any more help. He couldn’t fix Lucky and it wasn’t his job. Damon just wished he didn’t feel so much like it was.
Two
As much as Lucky had wanted to drink Damon’s bar dry, he hadn’t. Instead, Lucky had slipped down the stairs inside the apartment that led to the bar’s storeroom and grabbed a few bottles of water. After stashing them in the otherwise empty refrigerator in the apartment, Lucky had dragged his suitcases to the bedroom. For half a second, he had considered making the bed. There were linens in the closet. Instead, Lucky had fallen across the bare mattress and stared at the ceiling all night.
When the sun rose, Lucky unpacked. He kept his mind blank as he made the bed and put his toiletries in the bathroom. With everything in its place, Lucky started making a list of everything he needed—like food and toilet paper. He also needed to do a few gigs to make money, but he didn’t bother writing that down. Having to scratch half the things off the list because he couldn’t afford them would be all the reminder he needed. At the last second, rather than scratching anything out, Lucky simply made a quick note at the edge of the paper to figure out what he could afford as he went.
Before he could get his shoes on to head out, Damon came through the door. Lucky had no right to complain about him not knocking. It was literally Damon’s place. Damon carried a four-foot-tall lamp. It looked like an old-fashioned streetlamp from a picturesque village. It was nice.
While smiling brightly and without even saying hello, Damon planted the lamp at Lucky’s feet like a proud papa. “Do you know what this is?”
“It’s a lamp.” Even Lucky heard the confusion in his voice.
Damon held his stare. “Do you know what your problem is?”
Lucky knew this one too. “I had abusive parents. Now I seek validation from men, but—so far—they’ve only proven what my parents always said. That no one will ever love me, and I will spend my life alone. So I move from one unhealthy relationship to the next because I’m too dumb to get the message.”
Damon blinked at Lucky’s diarrhea of the mouth.
Lucky flashed him a tight smile as if he hadn’t told Damon his entire life story in one breath. “I’ve had a lot of therapy. Obviously, it didn’t work.”
“No.” Damon sounded hard. “That’s not the issue I’m referencing. Your problem is that everything you own will fit in four bags, making it way too easy for you to move from place to place. Do you know what this is?” Damon asked again, shaking the lamp at him.
Damon made him question himself. This time when he answered, he dragged out each word, sounding unsure. “It’s a lamp?”
Damon gave him a sharp nod. “It’s your lamp. Wherever you end up next, don’t you dare let them take your goddamn lamp from you. No way this sucker is fitting in a suitcase. This is your fucking lamp.”
Lucky accepted Damon’s gift. As his fingers wrapped around the base, a warmth spread through Lucky’s chest. This was his lamp. He didn’t know where to put it. In fact, he couldn’t stop looking at it. There was an odd pressure behind his eyes. It was kind of like he wanted to cry or something. He glanced around the room, trying to decide where to put it. Finally, he decided on a spot that would have light shining over his shoulder when he sat on the couch. He plugged it in and turned the knob. It didn’t do anything. A hint of disappointment hit. Damon was right. This was his lamp. It didn’t work.
“It probably just needs a new bulb or something.” Damon sounded uncomfortable.
Lucky did what he always did. He pretended everything was fine. He flashed Damon a smile. “It’s no big deal. This place has plenty of light without it. I’ll figure it out later. Thank you. I love it.”
Damon wiped his hands on his jeans and gave Lucky a nod. “I have to get back downstairs. Deliveries and whatnot.”
“Would you like some help?”
Damon glanced around, as if trying to think of a way to tell Lucky he didn’t want his help. His gaze landed on the list that sat on the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. To Lucky’s horror, Damon ripped the paper from the scratchpad and put the list in his pocket. “I’ll pick these things up for you later.” Damon pulled his wallet from his pocket and dug out a twenty. He held the money out to Lucky. “First, I need you to run across the street to Randy’s diner and grab us breakfast. They’re usually pretty quick with to-go orders. Get whatever, I’m not picky. When you get back, you can fill out some paperwork so I can get you on the payroll.”