Page 45 of No More Secrets

She shakes her head, and he wonders what her life was like before she landed herself in a homeless encampment. He suspects she was the parent in the family and cooked for her mom.

Shiloh slides onto the counter stool again and picks at the chip in the Formica. “My mom doesn’t cook. I mean, she did when I was little, but never from scratch. Then she was too high to bother, and after Ellis moved in...” She shrugs, confirming his suspicions.

Lucas moves to the counter. If Ellis shows his face around here, Lucas will exchange more than words with him. “My mom worked too many hours to be bothered to shop. My dad just didn’t care. He wasn’t home much either.”

“How’d you eat, then?” she asks.

“I’d buy me and my little sis McDonald’s with my allowance. Sometimes I’d bike to my mom’s office and ask her for money.”

Shiloh looks down at her hands. “Sounds lonely.”

“It was.” He inhales deeply. He’s never shared that with anyone. But he wanted her to understand that he gets her. “Wash up.”

She snorts. “What am I, five?”

“No, but you still have grime under your nails. I can’t believe I let you work behind the deli counter.”

“I wore those plastic glove thingies.” She curls her fingers and studies her nails. Her lip pulls up. “Be right back.” She darts to the bathroom and stops up short. “Whoa, it’s clean. Thanks.”

Warmth spreads from his chest into his limbs. “No prob.” His voice is rich with emotion. He clears his throat, unused to the feeling. Rarely does someone thank him.

He returns the pan to the cabinet, pretending what he’s feeling isn’t a big deal for him.

Ivy is pleased when they arrive, and again Lucas feels a tingling warmth and admits he likes the feeling, even welcomes it. The table is already set for three when Ivy invites them in, and the lasagna is cooling on the stove top. The entire apartment smells like meat sauce and basil. His mouth quirks when Shiloh’s stomach rumbles loud enough for them to hear. She blushes and hugs her midriff, almost caving in on herself.

“My word, Lucas, don’t you feed this girl?”

“I was just about to,” he says in his defense. But she’s right. Shiloh is skin and bones under the bulky sweatshirt she always wears, her arms and legs sticks poking out of his shirt she slept in last night.

Ivy draws an arm over Shiloh’s shoulders and leads her to the table, where a large wooden bowl of tossed green salad is already set. Shiloh makes a face, her gaze lifting to Lucas’s. He hides a smile and is on his way to retrieve the lasagna when Ivy asks him to get it.

The casserole dish is large enough to feed a team. Ivy will be forcing lasagna on them for days. Not that he’s complaining. He’ll eat her food over the fast food he buys any day. He sets the dish on the hot pads Ivy put on the round table and settles in a chair beside Shiloh.

Ivy retrieves a basket of garlic bread and sits down. She smiles at them. “It’s so nice to have company. And you, Lucas. Finally joining me.” Her eyes shimmer with gratitude, forcing him to look at his plate. The guilt’s too much. She’s lonely, and he’s declined her invitations more times than he can count. But he just couldn’t risk discovery. He also couldn’t bear to disappoint her further, which will happen if she ever learns the truth of him.

Shiloh kicks his shin. His head snaps up and he glares at her. She holds out a hand for him. Her other hand clasps Ivy’s across the table. Shiloh rolls her eyes from him to Ivy.

He swings a look at Ivy. She’s smiling at him, brows lifted. “Will you say grace, Lucas?” Her hand reaches for his.

Lucas wants to throw up. The thought of holding both their hands, skin to skin. He inhales deeply through his nose.Get a grip, man.His stomach churns. He preps his mind to expect the touch. He grasps their hands and mutters, “God is great, God is good. Thank you for our food. Amen.” He ignores Ivy’s surprised look over his brevity and releases their hands. He wipes clammy palms on his thighs. Damn, he could use a beer. He grabs his water glass and chugs.

Shiloh digs into the lasagna, serving herself a hefty slice and humming her pleasure with the first mouthful. “This is amazing,” she says before swallowing.

“Shiloh, tell me about yourself. Lucas never told me he has sisters or that he has a niece.” Her accusatory gaze slides to Lucas, and he grunts, serving lasagna to Ivy, then himself. “You must tell me everything, I insist. How did you end up here?”

Shiloh’s gaze meets his before she launches into a story about how her mom raised her since birth. Money has always been tight. She works nights, so Shiloh was on her own fixing meals, getting herself to school. But then her mom got into drugs, and their roles reversed. Shiloh started taking care of her. Her mom also liked men, often brought them home. But Ellis stayed, and Ellis’s eyes strayed.

Lucas grinds his teeth and sends her a warning glare. She’s revealing too much. But he’s also mortified everything she’s telling them is the truth. His heart aches for what she’s had to put up with.

“Goodness.” Ivy’s face is pale. “Lucas, I’m so glad she came to stay with you. You should have taken her in sooner.”

His nostrils flare.

Shiloh won’t meet his gaze. She clears her throat and changes the subject to a girl at school who teased her about her junkie mom. They got into a fight, Shiloh explains, further embellishing her story, and Shiloh was suspended. Her mom sent her to stay with Uncle Lucas during her time off from school.

“You told me some of this earlier, Lucas, but it sounds worse than I imagined coming from Shiloh.” Ivy is appalled. “You must do something about your sister.”

“I’ve tried,” he lies to his plate.

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