Just a Little Honesty (10 page)

Luke took one step closer, this time letting a breath slowly spill from his half-parted lips. Seeming as though it took every ounce of restraint, patience, and courage he had in him, he extended his hand forward to greet Derek. His hand hung in the air for a few long seconds as I looked from one man to the other.

After a long minute of waiting, I suspected—as I’m sure Luke did too—that Derek wasn’t about to accept the gesture. Just as Luke was about to retract his hand, Derek reached forward and grabbed it, shaking it firmly and respectfully.

“Come on in,” Luke said, now taking Derek’s suitcase. “You hungry?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Monday, April 08 | 12:30 p.m.

I watched in complete perplexity as Derek and Luke walked through the cabin (almost side-by-side) to reach the kitchen. They made a little small talk about traffic and weather, and all the while Luke stood at the refrigerator pulling out all the necessities for making sandwiches. The two men talked—almost as if they were…
friends
—the whole time they assembled their lunches.

I watched Luke closely for any signs of immediate retaliation. I wanted to be extra sure that his kindness wasn’t just a ploy; all he’d need was a simple distraction in order to slip some kind of poisonous powder, chemical, or liquid into Derek’s food. But, much to my complete astonishment, Luke kept his hands to himself.

Derek threw a few questionable glances in my direction, looking just as confused by Luke’s sudden change of demeanor as I was. Without saying anything, I tried my best to communicate that he should be extremely cautious. There was no telling what Luke was up to, and I didn’t want my friend falling into any kind of trap.

“Julie’s been staying in the upstairs loft,” Luke explained to Derek. “Kara’s up there; I suppose it’ll be best to let the girls sleep there. It’s the safest option.” He then nodded into the adjoining living room. “As far as sleeping arrangements go for the rest of us,” he said, taking the first bite out of his sandwich. “We’ll just have to figure something out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Derek said, and his voice sounded just as skeptical as he looked.

We turned simultaneously out of the kitchen, leaving Luke alone with his food and thoughts. Derek carried his sandwich in one hand, but kept his other far from touching me—which was nothing out of the ordinary. As Matt stood from the couch—without giving our newest visitor a welcome of any kind—Derek and I sat down. My cousin mumbled something incoherently as he stomped up the steps to check on his sleeping girlfriend. He never returned, so I assumed he only went up to get some peace of his own. And only then did I feel any kind of guilt for being the shrieking drama queen who’d woke him up in the first place.

“So,” I said, almost whispering. I turned to face Derek and tucked my legs up beneath me. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

Derek threw a questionable glance around the room before looking back to me. “No one told you?”

“Told me what?”

“We’re in hiding,” he said, almost laughing.

“Very funny,” I said, shoving him. He sat straighter and smiled, and I couldn’t help but do the same. “I mean… Kara said that Charlie wanted to keep everyone I love safe, but she never said… I didn’t know you were coming. I’m just surprised, I guess. I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Well,” Derek said, still holding his sandwich. He hadn’t taken a single bite, so I could only wonder if maybe he’d had the same suspicions about Luke’s uncharacteristic kindness too. “I don’t know anything about Charlie. He’s not the one who gave me orders to come.”

“Bruno?” I asked. “Luke said Bruno’s been keeping pretty tight tabs on you—”

“No,” he said, looking over his shoulder and then turning back to me. “It was Luke.”

“
What
?” I asked, turning to take a look at Luke for myself. He was standing in the kitchen, ignoring my conversation with Derek. He’d already finished his lunch and was standing over the condiments and bread, meticulously cleaning each lid before securing it back on its respective jar. “
Luke
told you to come?”

“Got a call last night,” he said, seemingly just as baffled as I was. “He said that he’d already cleared it with Charlie and Bruno, and he wanted me here. He said he was beginning to think I was in more danger than he’d originally thought, and that this was the safest place for me.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’ll admit I was a little hesitant. I felt like I was walking into a trap.”

“I bet.”

“But when he told me you’d be here, and that he wasn’t just sending me to some other safe house,” he said, taking a deep breath. “When he said I’d get to see you… I just… I had to come, Julie. I had to see for myself that you were really okay.”

I nodded but tore my gaze away from Derek yet again. I watched Luke work quietly in the kitchen, seemingly unfazed that Derek and I sat only feet away talking about him. Of course, we’d kept our voices low, so there was no possibility that he’d heard what we were saying. But he had to know we were talking about him…
he had to
.

And the longer I watched him, the more I couldn’t quite figure out what he was up to. Luke had hated Derek, or so he wanted everyone to believe. And at one point, he’d hated him enough to threaten his life, run him out of town, and do everything short of accusing him of being a younger version of his homicidal father. And then… all of a sudden… he was freely giving Derek our safe house location, inviting him up, and talking to him like they were old pals?

No way. I wasn’t buying it.

Luke had an ulterior motive, and I was determined to find out what he was up to.

As I looked on at Luke, Derek eventually turned to watch him as well. He moved about the kitchen slowly, still using the fine edges of paper towels to clean away any excess ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise that may’ve lingered on the lids. His head was low, his hands were steady, and he seemed to be in a different world as he cleaned up the small mess they’d made during lunch prep.

“Whoa,” Derek mumbled, still watching Luke. He kept his eyes glued to him as he carried the few bottles back to the refrigerator. “That certainly puts quite a bit into perspective.”

“Hmm?” I asked.

“Luke,” he whispered, and he never took his eyes off of him.

“What about him?”

He half-laughed, but it wasn’t out of humor. It almost sounded like he was amazed by whatever it was that had initiated his reaction.

“He’s obsessive-compulsive.”

“Yes, Derek. He’s a control freak. I think we already knew that,” I said, almost laughing at myself. But Derek didn’t seem to think my attempted joke was really all that funny.

“I’m serious, Julie,” he said, nodding at him. Luke was still standing at the refrigerator, strategically placing each bottle in the exact position he’d found them—perfectly vertical, labels pointing out, and each one a few inches apart. “Hannah was always the same way.”

“Really?” I asked, trying to remember something—besides the memory of her gun-wielding breakdown—about his younger sister. “I’d never noticed.”

“Yeah,” he said, and we both kept watching Luke. He gnawed on his lower lip as he nudged the mustard bottle slowly to the left. It almost seemed as though he knew exactly where it needed to be, but he couldn’t quite get it there.

“Dammit,” I heard him mumble, and my eyes widened.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Derek, and then I slid off the couch. I met Luke in the kitchen as he leaned over the refrigerator, and I placed my hand gently on his back. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said, biting back frustration. Still hinged at the hips, he rested his palms on his knees, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

“Why don’t you let me clean up?” I asked, pulling him up. He stood straighter, shut the refrigerator door, and nodded. “Go sit down, take a load off. You need to get some rest.”

“I don’t want to rest—”

“Then… go look at your pictures,” I said, placating him. “It’ll give you something to focus on.”

He opened his mouth as if he was about to make an argument, but I think even Luke knew better than to test me. 

“Julie—”

“
Let me do it
,” I said, and I caught a glimpse of Derek still watching us. He nodded a couple times, silently agreeing that I’d done the right thing by asking Luke to step back, but Luke didn’t seem to want to.

“Okay,” he said, giving up his position in the argument. 

“Good boy,” I said with a wink, and Luke rolled his eyes as he turned away.

Just as I’d asked him to do, he slowly meandered to the living room, sat down in his rocking chair, and picked up the picture book. He didn’t seem to mind that Derek was only a few feet away; he didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge him, and never once seemed to indicate that he knew he wasn’t alone.

Five minutes after Luke settled back in, and I had the kitchen back to its utmost cleanliness, Derek returned with an uneaten sandwich.

“Trash?” he asked.

I nodded at the garbage can just below the far counter. He dumped the food into the bag and turned back to me.

“I’m not sure it would’ve been the best idea to eat that.”

“I don’t blame you for a second,” I said, almost smirking. “Now, normally I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to share the goods, but I’m feeling particularly generous today.” I walked over to the freezer and opened the door, revealing a stack of frozen pizzas—one of the few “junk foods” Luke had let me bring back to the cabin. “But can I interest you in one of these?”

He put his hand over his heart as if he’d just had a mini heart-attack.

“Julie Little,” he said, shaking his head. “I could kiss you.”

And it was only then that Luke’s head snapped up.

Monday, April 08 | 10:00 p.m.

“Everybody know where they’re sleeping?” Luke asked, and Kara and I nodded from the loft.

Matt had taken over Luke’s sofa bed, and Derek had secured himself a spot on the floor near the bathroom. He’d fashioned an undoubtedly uncomfortable bed out of blankets and pillows, but he promised me time and time again that he’d be just fine sleeping on the hard wood.

Luke, though, hadn’t made himself a bed. He hadn’t even mentioned where he might be sleeping, so I took that to mean that he’d be up all night—sitting guard in his mother’s rocking chair.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together once. “I want all of you to listen, and I want you to listen close. There will be no sneaking up or downstairs for late night visits or booty calls.” Luke’s eyes flashed immediately to Matt, and then he looked straight up the stairs to Kara. She blushed, but Matt simply rolled his eyes. “I always have a weapon at arm’s reach, and I’d hate to have to use one on any of you. You are my responsibility, and you
will not dare
make me regret my decision to allow you to come here. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir,” Kara said sheepishly as Matt muttered “whatever.”

Derek simply nodded, but I leaned over the rail and caught Luke’s eye.

“No funny business,” he said, and he looked at each of us, but then his gaze fell on me. “And that includes—”

“I swear to God if you say
sex dreams
I will murder you in your sleep,” I said, pointing a finger at him. He tried not to smile while everyone else exchanged questionable glances.

With a few “good night” exchanges, everyone went about their ways. Kara and I climbed into bed as we heard the boys shuffling around on the first floor.

It wasn’t long before the cabin lost its buzz; the boys quieted down, Kara drifted to sleep, and I stayed awake staring at the familiar faces I’d found in the woodwork.

I couldn’t count the many times I’d thought of getting up and going downstairs for a glass of water, but I didn’t want to suffer the consequences. It was hard to tell whether or not Luke was up; it was deadly quiet downstairs, but that didn’t really mean anything. And if he was awake… well, I didn’t feel like being shot for sneaking away from my assigned spot.

After two hours of silence, I rolled off the edge of the bed, extremely careful as not to wake up my friend who’d already fallen into a deep, deep sleep. I tiptoed across the loft and peered over the edge of the balcony, and Luke’s eyes immediately darted up.

“You okay?” he whispered, and I just barely heard him.

I nodded, but I didn’t move. I simply sat down and let my legs hang over the ledge, swinging down from the second floor. I rested my chin on the wooden rail in front of me and stared at Luke, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of me. It was impossible to tell just how long we sat there staring at each other, but the moments passed slowly. I kept my chin propped on the ledge in front of me, and Luke finally tilted his head over and rested it on the side of the rocking chair. We kept our eyes locked, beat by beat, minute by minute.

I had no way of knowing what he was thinking, but I had a million crazy thoughts running wildly through my mind. I thought about what Derek had told me about
Luke
inviting him up.  I thought about the way he’d accepted Derek’s arrival with open arms and a welcoming smile. And then I thought about the way Luke had fumbled helplessly with the mustard bottle.

And as I sat there staring at the man I loved, I couldn’t help but wonder how I could’ve been so wrong as to think that I’d ever known anything about him.

I knew he was beautiful, and I’d probably spent more of my days lusting over him than actually loving him.

I knew he was controlling and manipulative, but I didn’t know to what extent those tendencies could be blamed on a disorder. Was Luke really obsessive-compulsive? Or was it just a coincidence that he had certain erratic behaviors?

From day one, from the moment I met him, he had this seemingly uncontrollable urge to be in charge and make decisions. I’d only ever known him to manage, direct, manipulate, and take complete control—even when it wasn’t his place to do so.

And thinking back on all the days, weeks, and months I’d known Luke, I could only recall one time—one
night
—that he hadn’t been in control. It was the night he’d first told me he loved me, the night he’d drunkenly professed his feelings for me on my Uncle Charlie’s front porch. And that one thing—that one moment of weakness—suddenly had me doubting that Luke could have any kind of OCD. Would someone who is so obsessed with control—maybe even to a medical extreme—be willing to give up the ability to control their own natural impulses?