“You are something else, you know that?” I say, palming the back of his neck so I can kiss him one last time before we have to start getting ready for work. It’s a brief kiss, our breaths mingling as we pant into each other’s mouths, and I flick my tongue along the seam of his lips before pulling away.
We’re both silent as we clean up, Luke grabbing his discarded sweatpants off the floor and pulling them back on while I disappear into the bedroom for a fresh pair of trousers. Then I amble back into the kitchen, my muscles feeling languid and loose as I put on a pot of coffee.
“Shit. I forgot I don’t have any clean clothes,” Luke murmurs behind me.
Ohhhh, right. We were supposed to be talking.
With my back still turned to him, I focus more intently on preparing my coffee than is strictly necessary. “Actually, I uh…got you some clothes. That’s what I was doing this morning.”
“What?”
Turning around, I lean against the counter and take the first, drugging sip of caffeine that always makes me sigh in contentment. It does nothing for me this morning, only allows me to mask my sudden nerves. “I went to your apartment and got you a few things,” I say quickly, jerking my chin toward the duffle bags still laying near the entryway.
His face scrunches up, his perplexed expression more adorable than it has the right to be. “Um, you did? Why?”
I take in a deep breath and motion toward the kitchen table between us. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”
Probably should have done this to start with instead of pouncing on him again but oh well. I guess we’re doing things backward this morning.
As Luke gets settled, I pour him a glass of orange juice and slide it across the table to him. His eyes light up, and he shoots me a grateful smile before taking a big gulp. As I sit across from him, dread for the upcoming conversation and all his possible reactions swirl in my gut.
“I hope I didn’t overstep,” I begin.I definitely overstepped.“It’s your life and you can do whatever you want, of course, but I think you should stay here for a few days. You and Evelyn could use some space, and Stoney.”
I tack on Stoney’s name at the last second because the mere idea of Luke being around that hateful asshole makes my shoulders knot up with tension. I’ve been around people like that before, and my gut is telling me he’s bad news.
Luke blinks. “Oh….”
“Unless you don’t want to stay here. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” I rush to add on. “But I think your current living arrangement is toxic, and it’s not doing any favors for your mental health. A few days in a quieter environment would do you some good. Give you some time to think, and some perspective…” I trail off when I run out of things to say.
Luke stares at me.
“You’ll be safer here,” I add lamely. I can keep him safe—physically, mentally, emotionally. And that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? Maybe I should have just led with that, but revealing the depth of my burgeoning feelings for him leaves me feeling vulnerable.
And should I tell him Evelyn didn’t seem interested in rehab? What if he’s not ready to hear that?
“Please say something,” I finally urge him, the continued silence spiking my heart rate in a rather unpleasant way.
“You went and got my stuff because you want me to stay here.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to be…safe.” He whispers the last word like it’s a reverent prayer, his eyes going wide and suspiciously glossy.
Oh my God, have I really fucked up so spectacularly? “It’s not that I don’t think you can take care of yourself. That was the furthest thing from my mind,” I quickly add.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. How do I fix this? What should I—
“Nobody’s ever really seemed to care about that except Jax. And my dad, before he passed away,” Luke says quietly, swallowing as he continues to stare at me. “And since I haven’t been able to tell Jax about any of this…it feels like this is the first time someone has actually cared.”
Oh, fuck. Did someone just kick me in the chest?
“Regardless of what’s going on between us, I care. And I’ll always care about your safety, and your mental health, even if we never touch each other again. I’m in your corner, Luke.”
Luke coughs into his fist, but it doesn’t cover up the choked breath that escapes or the slight tremble of his bottom lip.
“Will you please stay with me? Maybe at least a week to start, and then we can reevaluate how you’re feeling. But you’re welcome here as long as you want,” I say.
He clears his throat. “I’ll stay.”
