“Easy for you to say. Three minutes is not long for Knox Gallagher to get himself into trouble. Believe me, I know. But that’s mostly because I’m with him when he goes looking for it.”
“You miss them, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I live with them. Of course, I miss them. Don’t you miss your roommate?”
Is he serious? “No. I mean, I hope she’s having a nice holiday in Colorado. California? Anyway, Nora and I aren’t close. We share space. And occasionally we share meals, but that’s more proximity and hunger than anything else.”
“Damn. I’d go crazy if that were my living situation. I checked in yesterday to wish Knox a happy 20th, but we didn’t talk long. Makes sense. He’s got a girlfriend and a kid, so he’s busy. But I miss being there, you know? I miss just hanging out, playing video games. I miss my friends. You probably miss your friends too. There were a couple girls you hung out with back at camp, right? Alyssa and Tipsy or something? I swear to God one of them was named Tipsy.”
I laugh. “Nope. Bitsy. Short for Elizabeth. And Kaya. But they’re long gone. God, I haven’t thought of either one of them in years. I still hang out with Alyssa occasionally, but even we’re not that close anymore.”
“So you’re no longer close with your best friend or your college roommate?”
I shrug, suddenly defensive. “I've learned it's best not to get close to people. My roommate is nice, but we're not close. Closeness makes you vulnerable and it pulls your focus away from what really matters.”
Caleb leans in close. “Lucy Adeline, that's not true. Look at me and my guys.”
And before I can think better of it, I say exactly what I’m thinking. “Yeah, but you're not focused, you—”
Immediately, he pulls away. The sweet, open guy I’ve been spending my days and nights with is gone. And in his place is a wounded man. “Damn. Tell me how you really feel.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I lie, because it’s exactly what I meant. But that doesn’t mean I should have said it. “Seriously, I’m sorry. It’s just that we’re different that way, you know? You need friends and socialization, and I need...work.”
“Ok, Luce. Whatever you say.”
“I’m serious. And it’s fine that we want different things. Good, even. Say you forgive me, and we can watch a movie?”
“I forgive you,” he tells me, though the smile he offers doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Still, he grabs the remote and finds a movie that’s just starting. We settle in close, but the intimacy we’ve had the past few days is gone. And I’m the one to blame.
About twenty minutes in, he rolls off the bed and throws his shirt back on. “I’m gonna scrounge up some leftovers from the kitchen. Want anything?”
“I’m good,” I lie again because I’m anything but good.
* * *
Whit
The fifth stair from the bottom creaks. I know this because I’ve traveled up and down these steps dozens of times in the past three days, and every time I hit that step, it groans slightly. This should probably make me wary of a midday kitchen visit, but it doesn’t. Despite my former life as a fat kid, I’m pretty stacked now, thanks to daily workouts. My time in the gym serves a dual purpose. First off, I live to eat. And also, my body has so much energy to burn that most days I need to work out until it is too tired to listen to my brain.
So, down to the kitchen I go, and when the wooden step whines, Vicki looks up and smiles.
“You know, I used to yell at Dan to fix that step, but when he finally got around to it, I told him not to bother. It’s a built-in alarm system, and this way, no one can sneak up on me.”
“Damn. And here I was, thinking I could raid the fridge without you knowing,” I tease.
“Like I’d let you starve,” she laughs.
My mom always said I never met a stranger, and it’s true. I make friends pretty much wherever I go. Sometimes it’s just fleeting, like chatting people up while we’re in line at the coffee shop, and sometimes my new friends get stuck with me for life, like Ty and Knox. I have a feeling Vicki, my middle-aged innkeeper, is going in that second category. She’s good people.
“What are you hungry for, dear?” she asks, turning in her chair.
“Nah, stay where you are. If it’s cool, I’ll just help myself.”
“If you’re thinking of making more of that buffalo chicken dip, help yourself all you want, darlin’.”
“Done.” I take the necessary ingredients out of the fridge and get to work. Cooking relaxes me. It lets me channel my restless energy into something that makes other people happy, and I can’t think of anything more important than that. So, sure, maybe Lucy’s got a point and I lack focus. But the people who love me don’t seem to give a damn.
And that’s the problem. I wish Lucy loved me. I mean, gave a damn.
