His mouth quirks upward at the corners when he adds, “Plus, it was fun.”
I roll my eyes with my whispered reply. “Great. So what you’re saying is, if a guy doesn’t look at me in the way you find acceptable, more shenanigans are to be expected?”
“Exactly.”
My eyes narrow, but my stubborn grin proves difficult to hide. Lukas’s gaze drifts to my mouth, noting my attempt, then lifts to meet mine. There’s something reflected in it, but before I have the chance to explore it further, he disengages his stare and rises to his full height. And God, how I feel the loss of his presence so close to me.
Genny has long since released my hand, abandoning me to make small talk with Seth’s friends. But Lukas’s hold remains, his grip warm and reassuring.
I consider his words, then wonder…is this Lukas’s way of telling me he won’t let me go? Then I think about how utterly ridiculous the notion is and mentally slap myself back to my senses.
Just like he guarded Michelle, this is him telling me he’ll guard me, too. Us. Our group.
Lukas drops my hand, shocking me further when he wraps an arm around my shoulder. It’s reminiscent of Tommy’s attempt earlier, but it feels more protective.
I’ve never been held this way.
Silently, I snuggle into Lukas, place my head on his chest, and listen to his steady heartbeat while watching Seth and Adam make up for lost time.
And as I’m tucked in closer to his side, I grin, taking great pride in the fact that absolutely no popcorn was harmed in the making of this moment.
13
At the local supermarket, Lukas and I wander the aisles aimlessly, making the most of our freedom from summer duties. He pushes the cart slowly, his thick forearms crossed over the handle while I toss random things in as we go. We smile faintly when we catch each other’s eye, which is often, and every single time the capillaries in my cheeks explode. We walk together in silence. It’s not awkward, but nice, comfortable.
Just as a box of saltine crackers lands safely on our pile of groceries, I decide it’s time to start a conversation. “Two hundred dollars seems like so much money, but it doesn’t really buy a lot, does it?”
Lukas considers the basket, layers upon layers of generic products and the makings of cheap meals—Sloppy Joes included! Yay!—and replies, “It buys enough, I think.”
“Yeah.” I survey the lot as well. Grinning, I add, “I think that’s why she always sends us. Who knows what Genny would come back with? Probably something bizarre that no one would even like, like two hundred dollars’ worth of Twizzlers.”
Lukas laughs, crossing his arms and leaning over onto the shopping cart again. “Nah, it’d be chocolate.”
I chuckle. “For sure.”
I point at some Goldfish, and he shakes his head, indicating the knock-off brand on a lower shelf with a dip of his chin.
I chuck one bag of those into the basket as he asks, “Was it hard? Going from having so much money to having none?”
I frown, thinking, then shake my head. “No. Not really. Feeling loved is worth so much more.” My steps halt and I turn to face him. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s weird to think about, I guess. That you had a completely different life before Sacred Heart. Posh house, fancy cars, expensive wardrobe, all that shit. Yet here you are, in a store with a delinquent”—he waggles his dark eyebrows and grins—“wearing secondhand clothes while failing miserably at trying to contain your excitement over something so mundane as Sloppy Joes mix.”
I gasp, laughing. I thought my poker face during that acquisition was truly stellar. “Hey, Sloppy Joes are the shit. Grilled cheese, too,” I say, knocking his shoulder with mine.
Still smiling, he nods and pushes the cart forward. I step in time with him, adding in a thoughtful tone, “I don’t mind the clothes. I don’t miss the house or the cars. The years I spent there were nothing but an emotional vacuum. I wasn’t really attached to anything or anyone. In fact, I didn’t really have anything I considered valuable until I was placed with Mrs. Rodriguez.”
I give him a shy, sideways glance, and the curve of his mouth tells me he understands exactly on what, or on whom, I place value. I quickly look away, directing my eyes to the scuffed flats on my feet as we walk.
Two aisles later, I ask, “What about you?”
He grabs a one-pound plastic bag of Frootie Tooties, and I giggle because the name is pure ridiculousness.
Tooties.
He chuckles and tosses the bag into the cart. “Well, I had nothing to lose when I came, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t really think I’ve ever had anything I could call mine. To me, ‘mine’ alludes to holding on to something forever, and I never really stayed in a place long enough to find something worth keeping. Never took anything with me, never left anything behind.”
Lukas leans forward as he pushes the cart. His posture is relaxed and unassuming, as though his admission wasn’t completely tragic. My brows descend, and I mentally store his statement to address at another time. “No, I mean, was it a lot for you? Being surrounded by so many people? You just…” I worry my bottom lip, “You just seemed as though you wanted to be left alone when you first came here.”
This time he stops mid-aisle to face me. “Yes and no.” He shrugs. “I was still pretty messed up in the head when I first got to Sacred Heart. And I was wary. I didn’t set out to form any relationships, that’s for sure.”
Ouch.
For some reason, his words sting. He must see it in my expression, because he’s quick to say, “But the longer I stayed, the harder it was to keep myself separated. I found myself curious about what it would be like to feel part of something for once. You all were, are, so tightly woven, so protective of each other, it’s hard not to want to be included when what’s happening in front of you is everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“You were always a part of us, Lukas. You know that, right? That you always had a home in us. We’re friends.” I swallow the knot of sorrow constricting my throat. “We’re family.”
He nods firmly. “Yeah, I do.”
I smile at him, fighting the urge to wipe an escaping tear. Hastily, my eyes fall to the ground, trying to hide my reaction. I’m sure Crying Chloe would do nothing more than freak him out, and he’s come so far these past few months, I refuse to lose him now because of a few ill-timed tears.
So, I train my gaze downward and will myself to get it together. Seconds pass, then warm fingers grip my chin and slowly tilt my head up. I look toward the ceiling, then side to side, refusing to meet Lukas’s stare.
Childish, I know. I can’t defend my actions.
His chuckles draw my attention, and I finally meet his eyes. They crinkle at the sides in silent laughter. I narrow mine, which earns me that dimple—a big smile. Then I roll them, and he barks a laugh.
All will is lost.
My mouth surrenders and gives him a smile in return. The tear also revolts, rolling down my cheek.
Lukas gently swipes it with his thumb then says almost too quietly, “Please don’t hide what you’re feeling from me.”
Another traitorous tear falls, and he wipes it away immediately.