Page 48 of No More Secrets

He forces out a breath. “I spent six months in juvenile detention for holding up a minimarket clerk at gunpoint. How’s that for a role model?”

Her hands slide from his face, her eyes clouding with unease. Exactly how he expected she’d react. His actions even disgust him. He’d been so damn irresponsible.

After he was sentenced and served his time, he swore to his parents he’d never speak of the incident again. But he’s thought about it almostevery day of his life since, about how different he’d be today if he hadn’t followed Tanner and Reg into the minimarket for a six-pack of beer. There had been only one security camera in the market, which was trained on the cash register.

It caught everything.

Tanner unveiling the gun he’d hidden in his letterman jacket.

Lucas yanking the gun from Tanner.

The gun firing.

The gun. The gun. The gun.

The window blew out behind the clerk’s head, shattering Reg’s windshield. Tanner and Reg bolted from the store. But Lucas couldn’t make himself move. When he’d reached for Tanner’s gun, it was as if he was watching someone else do it. He didn’t understand why he’d taken it. The only explanation he’s come up with is that he had been afraid Tanner would fire it. The safety had been off.

The clerk was new, but he was a big guy. He dove over the counter and tackled Lucas. The police arrived and arrested Lucas. Tanner and Reg shared an attorney, who set Lucas up to take the fall for all three of them.

Lucas’s face heats with shame. He can’t look at Ivy. Clearing his throat, he crosses his arms. “So, yeah. Better for Shiloh to stick with you.”

“How old were you?”

He frowns. “Sixteen, why?”

Ivy’s smile is melancholy. “Lucas, if we were all judged by our actions at sixteen, most of which I can guarantee were blatantly rash, our society would be in worse shape than it already is. I’ll say this again because you need to hear it: You are a good man. You are good for that girl.” She pokes his chest. “Better yet, you’ve experienced the worst that can happen. You know best how to steer your niece clear of that so she doesn’t end up like your sister.”

Lucas dips his chin, looking at the spot where she poked him. He experienced something far worse than getting arrested for firing a loaded weapon. But Ivy has planted a seed of hope in him he doesn’t know how to fertilize. He’d give up his freedom if it meant he was as worthy as she believes him to be.

Shiloh returns, putting an end to the conversation. He’s feeling weirded out he shared so much with Ivy, and he’s itching to put some space between him and the conversation. He swipes up his keys. “I’ll be back. Don’t wait up for me.”

He leaves the apartment before she can ask where he’s going.

Downstairs, Lucas takes a Cuervo off the shelf only to put the bottle back and grab a beer from the fridge. He wants a drink, not to get wasted. He takes the beer out back and drinks under a partial moon that drenches the wasteland around the property in a silvery light.

He came often to the desert in his twenties, raced at the motocross track on the outskirts of town. Probably why he’d driven in this direction. He hadn’t planned it, just drove on autopilot. Though he never intended to stay. He didn’t plan to live this long either, and he wouldn’t have if Ivy hadn’t intervened that first night. If she hadn’t stayed with him, talked on and on about her life with Tom, he would have drawn the bath, settled into the tepid water, and dragged the blade up his forearm, right over the scar he’d left from his first attempt at sixteen.

But he also shouldn’t have stayed this long and worries he can’t linger long enough for Shiloh to earn the money she needs, not if someone’s onto him.

He tips back the bottle, and the moon mocks him. Ivy believes he’s a good man. But she doesn’t know the real him, or that he lives in fear of being discovered every day. She doesn’t know what he’s capable of.

Memories of his father’s last night flicker to life. They haunt him, becoming clearer each passing month as his mind fills in the blanks. That was him chasing Dwight across town until his Mercedes blew off the road and flipped end over end down the ravine. That was himclimbing down the slope to reach his father’s car. Those were his hands wrapping the seat belt around his old man’s neck.

Lucas always knew he was as monstrous as Dwight. That night proved it.

The urge to run again nips his ass.

His truck is out front, the keys in his pocket. He could leave right now.

But where would he go, and what would happen to Shiloh?

She isn’t my problem.

But you made her yours, Olivia would tell him, reminding him to see the responsibilities he took on through to completion.

Admittedly, he wants to help Shiloh, even at the risk of getting himself caught, which is out of character for him. But he’s been to hell and back and wouldn’t wish that on anyone. He understands what she’s going through. His parents hadn’t helped him through his trauma, and from what he knows, Shiloh’s mom didn’t help her. But maybe he can.

“Fuck.” He’s going to get himself in trouble.

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