Page 85 of From Angel to Rogue

“Oh.” Luka’s eyes sparkled as his mouth formed an O.

“Can I go on it, Lawndon?”

Lan nodded. “Yes, but only when you grow tall and strong like me.”

“Like when I get to be a superhero?” he hushed, staring at Lan intently.

“Yes, when you get to be a superhero,” Lan whispered.

I cleared my throat. “Come on, we’re late for school,” I called out to both of them, interrupting their very serious superhero discussion.

Tyler was driving us today in the new Maybach we purchased. We can’t really take Luka on a bike. I knew how to drive, but I hadn’t gotten in the driver’s seat for almost six years, and I wasn’t going to test that today.

“Hi, Mr. Twyler.” Luka held out his fist to Tyler, already acquainted with him when he picked Luka and Naomi up from Iona.

It was comical to watch the big man crouch to meet the little fella’s fist. “Hello, Mr. Luka.”

Luka grinned like a good little boy. “I’m going to become strong and tall like you when I grow up, Mr. Twyler. Lawndon is going to teach me.”

A rare smile lifted Tyler’s lips. “Bet you can beat me?”

Luka nodded. “Of course.”

“Okay, baby, we can chat with Tyler in the car. We’re really late for school,” I muttered, nudging Luka

I lied. We were at least twenty minutes early. Something about him not making it to school on time added to my swirling guts. I think now I finally understood my mother’s nerves whenever she dropped us off at school.

Luka obediently slipped inside the car and jumped into his booster seat in the middle, and Lan secured his belt.

Soon, we were cruising down the road, my eyes plastered on the window, biting my lips a little too hard while Luka continued his conversation with Tyler.

A rough, calloused hand gripped mine, snapping my attention from the blurring city.

My eyes met Lan, who stared right at me, his eyes, the shade of chocolate glimmering like bourbon on rocks from the bright sunlight seeping through the window. It lit the sharp angles of his face—his chiseled nose, pursed lips, and straight nose.

Every inch of him was perfect. Without even trying, he was perfect.

Perfectly fitting into all the holes in my body.

Making me full.

“It’s going to be okay,” he mouthed, squeezing my hand.

I nodded, heaving out a breath that was somehow lighter now that I was holding his hand. It dissipated some of my tension.

Lan earned a few glances as we threaded Luka through the crowd of parents and students at the Charles-Richardson Elementary School in the Upper East Side.

It took us about five minutes to find Luka’s homeroom, where his teacher, Ms. Nancy, greeted us with a wide smile.

“You must be Katy and Landon,” she said, holding out a hand. “I’m Nancy Edwards.”

She seemed kind enough with wire glasses, slick topknot, and a bright orange dress that somehow looked perfect on her.

“Nice to meet you, Nancy.” I smiled, shaking her hand.

“And you,” she said in a singsong voice as she lowered her gaze. “Must be Luka. Aren’t you a dapper little boy?”

“Yes,” he mumbled shyly.

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