Lessons Learned (17 page)

Lucas placed his hand against my elbow. “Do you want me to come?”

“No, it’s okay. I can handle it.”

I think.

“Right this way,” Dr. Jones said, motioning toward the door leading to the tiny examining rooms.

Taking a deep breath, I followed him down the narrow hallway and to the first room on the left. I was prepared, but I still gasped when I saw Matt’s battered body lying on the bed. Bandages covered the entire right side of his face. He saw me and managed a smile.

“Hey.” His voice was raspy and tired.

Dr. Jones excused himself before closing the door behind him. I slowly walked over to the bed and pulled a chair close to his side.

“The things you’ll do to get out of reading
Macbeth
,” I teased.

He laughed and then immediately grimaced in pain.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s okay, Miss Bray. Everything just hurts.”

It broke my heart to look at him. He kept fidgeting uncomfortably, and his arm was in some temporary sling. I doubted they could put a cast on him at our clinic.

“Matt, what was the fight about? What can I do?”

He swallowed, and I wondered if he was dangerously close to tears.

“You like to help people, don’t you, Miss Bray?”

Shrugging, I stared down at my hands in my lap.

“I like to try, yeah. Sometimes, it doesn’t work.”

“Like that kid in Memphis?” Matt whispered, and my eyes snapped to his. “Don’t be mad, but I was curious. I had to know why someone who’d actually escaped this place would ever come back. Now, I know.”

Tears pricked my eyes.

“Matt, I can’t have this conversation with you.”

He continued as if I hadn’t said a word. “That guy . . . he was just trying to get through high school and start a new life somewhere, wasn’t he? A life without judgment. A life without bullying. A life where you don’t have to pretend to be someone you aren’t. A place where you don’t have to worry about someone beating the shit out of you because you’re . . .

Tears streaked down my cheek. “Matt, please—”

His eyes were squeezed shut. “I thought leaving Sycamore Falls was the answer to all of my problems, Miss Bray. I thought if I could just get out of here . . . but it’s not like that at all, is it? The whole world is full of crazy assholes who will always think it’s fine to treat me like shit just because I’m . . .”

He choked back a sob, and suddenly, the only sound in the room was the strangled tears of an eighteen-year-old boy who had just made the biggest confession of his life.

He couldn’t be . . .

The images and sounds of that day hit me like a wrecking ball.

Sirens.

Gunfire.

Blood.

So much blood.

My ears began to ring and my vision blurred, and I heard Matt scream for the doctor just moments before I hit the floor.

“More?”

I nodded and watched through teary eyes as Lucas refilled my glass. The alcohol was sweet and warmed my bones. It wasn’t doing a thing for my pounding headache, though.

“Where did you find wine in this town?”

“I didn’t. When I told my parents this county was dry, they insisted I bring a case with me.”

“I love your parents. Please tell them to bring more when they come down for Thanksgiving.”

Lucas smiled. “I need to find you something to eat.”

He kissed my forehead, and I snuggled deeper into his couch and sipped my wine while he went to the kitchen to search for food. I wasn’t particularly hungry, but maybe a little food would settle my stomach and keep me from passing out again.

After being deemed healthy by the doctor, Lucas had brought me straight to his apartment. He didn’t ask any questions, and I didn’t offer any explanations. He’d simply led me toward his couch, wrapped me in a blanket, and held me close to his chest. I’d insisted on not taking any medication, and Lucas respected my wishes. I’d still napped on and off all afternoon, but my dreams were disturbing and ruined any chance I had of a restful sleep.

Lucas walked back into the room. “I made you a sandwich. I also got a text from Tommy while I was in the kitchen. Just like Mr. Stuart predicted, Patrick didn’t spend a minute in jail.”

“I didn’t really expect him to.”

He placed the plate in my lap. “Patrick’s eighteen, so I was hoping. He was released into his father’s custody. Tommy has dismissed him from the team, though.”

“For Patrick, I bet that’s worse than jail.” I stared down at my peanut butter sandwich. It looked delicious, but the thoughts of eating completely turned my stomach.

“Please try to eat, baby.”

I smiled. “Did you just call me
baby
?”

“Yes, I did,” Lucas whispered as he stroked my cheek. “Why? Did you like that?”

I nodded. Actually, I liked it a lot. I liked it so much I forced myself to take a bite of his sandwich.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The question was inevitable. I’d passed out at the clinic, and I’d been a sobbing mess all afternoon. “Not really, no.”

“Do you
need
to talk about it?”

I did need to talk about it. I needed to tell him about Memphis and the shooting, and I probably needed to tell him about Matt.

I decided to test the waters. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure—if you eat the other half of your sandwich.”

I humored him and took a bite. Lucas handed me a glass of milk, and I frowned at the liquid in the glass.

“Did I drink all of the wine?”

Lucas smirked. “I’m cutting you off.”

I sighed heavily.

“Okay,” I said in between bites, “what is your opinion on homosexuality?”

His surprised expression would have made me laugh if this situation was the least bit humorous.

“That wasn’t what I expected at all.”

“Well?”

He gave me a puzzled look.

“Well, my general opinion is it’s not really any of my business how someone lives his or her life. I don’t necessarily
agree
with it, but I also don’t want to see someone ridiculed or harassed because they’re gay.”

I nodded. “That’s how I feel, too.”

I took another bite of my sandwich in an attempt to avoid his eyes. I couldn’t look at him. The man could read me like a book.

“Sarah, that’s a pretty specific question.”

I just continued chewing.

“Why did you ask?”

I didn’t answer, and we sat in silence until my plate was empty. I carefully placed it on the coffee table before climbing into his lap. Wrapping the blanket around us, I buried my face against his neck as he held me close. I inhaled deeply, letting his sweet scent relax me.

“You’re like a therapist or lawyer, right? Anything I tell you stays between us?”

“I’m not a therapist or a lawyer,” Lucas whispered, “but I am the man who is absolutely crazy about you. So yes, anything you tell me stays between us.”

I lifted my head to meet his eyes.

“You’re crazy about me?”

“Absolutely insane.”

I smiled. “I’m crazy about you, too.”

He kissed me—a slow, sweet kiss that flowed through me. It was warm and tender, and when we finally pulled away, his eyes were bright and adoring.

“Absolutely insane for you.” He nuzzled my cheek and held me close. Several minutes passed before I finally found the courage to say the words.

“Matt is gay.”

His eyes widened in shock. “He told you so?”

“Not in so many words, no, but I think he will, and I think Patrick knows.”

“And that’s why Patrick keeps kicking his ass?”

I nodded.

“So, Patrick is either a homophobe . . .”

“Or he’s the object of Matt’s affection.”

“Or both,” Lucas said quietly. “Are you upset because he’s gay?”

“No. It was just . . . déjà vu, I guess.”

“Memphis?” he asked, and I nodded. “Do you want to tell me that story?”

“Yes, but not tonight. I’m afraid it doesn’t have a happy ending.”

He pulled me close to his chest. “You deserve so many happy endings. I wish I could erase every painful memory you have.”

“I wish you could, too.” I snuggled deeper into his arms. “When I’m with you, it’s so easy to forget the world is a terrible place. I’ve never felt so safe or so . . .”

Embarrassed, I buried my face against his neck.

“Loved,” Lucas murmured. “Do you feel loved, Sarah?”

I nodded against his skin. I did. I felt it every time he touched me. Every time he looked at me.

It terrified me.

It thrilled me.

“Let me say it,” he pleaded softly.

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

We held each other a while longer until Lucas sighed and kissed my hair.

“Stay with me tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch. I just want to take care of you. And then tomorrow morning, we’ll go to church if you want. Or we’ll stay right here, and I’ll even cook breakfast. Just . . . stay with me.”

I couldn’t say no, and I really didn’t want to.

“Okay.”

Voices roar through the high school cafeteria while students navigate their way to the tables. The cliques are easily spotted: the jocks, the geeks, the beauty queens, the slackers . . .

Where will he sit today?

Despite the fact he’s a handsome and impeccably dressed young man, he fades into the background. Knowing it’s pointless, the girls don’t bother to look his way, and the guys deliberately avoid his eyes.

He grips his tray tightly and heads toward the corner table with the rest of the outcasts. They nod hello, but that’s the end of any real attempt at conversation. It’s an unspoken rule of sorts. This is their refuge—a tiny bit of sanctuary in the hell that is public high school—and they’re content to sit in peace.

He takes a seat, and I can see the exhaustion on his face. It’s not a weariness that comes from too many sleepless nights. This is a bone-tired fatigue no seventeen-year-old kid should ever feel.

He’s giving in.

Giving up.

In my peripheral vision, I see a senior stalk into the cafeteria. He’s tall, with deep brown eyes and jet-black hair that won’t stay in place. He’s good looking, popular, and a little conceited, thanks to his father’s wealth and status.

He has a reputation to uphold. Rumors to squash.

A score to settle.

He pulls the silver gun out of his jacket pocket. Amid the chaos, no one notices.

I notice.

I try to run, but I’m frozen in place.

I try to scream, but there’s no sound.

The first shot rings out, and suddenly, everyone’s on the cold tile.

Tears, prayers, screams.

Another shot, and for some reason, I’m the only one who can’t move. Who can’t scream. Who can’t do anything but watch as the young man’s body slumps over his tray.

Finally, I find my voice and scream his name.

My body jerked awake as the crash of thunder roared in my ears. Lightning flashed in the window, and I felt a momentary rush of panic when I couldn’t remember where I was.

Then I heard Lucas’s soft snoring coming from the living room, and I smiled despite my rapidly racing heart. The nightmares always frightened me, and I was out of practice. I hadn’t had one since my first night in Sycamore Falls.