Page 26 of August Lane
Silas exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Luke, who?”
“Luke,” August repeated, with emphasis that jarred recognition in his eyes.
“Luke Randall finally called you?”
“He’s here. He showed up at King’s. Sat in the same booth and ordered the same food as if he’d walked through a fucking time machine.”
Silas studied her face. “How’d he look?”
If someone had told August she wouldn’t recognize Luke Randall when he walked through the door, she would have called them a liar. She’d memorized that man through the lens of teenage obsession. He was her baseline. She’d rejected dates that looked too similar to him and recoiled from touches that weren’t similar enough. That she’d know Luke if she ever saw him again was such a given that it didn’t merit thinking about; it was as pointless as worrying about her next heartbeat.
The stranger she’d seen today had been bearded and broad, with sinister-looking tattoos that made her hesitate before approaching him. King’s was close enough to the state highway to attract men who’d lost their good judgment years ago—roaming insomniacs looking to ride someone with one foot out the door. Luke had been hunched over the laminated menu with a stiff set to his shoulders, as if he were resigned to being jumped from behind.
“He looked…” August faltered as she remembered how it had felt when Luke said her name. Like a delicious jolt of energy. An illicit charge. She used to crave that feeling. Each day, she’d find those molten eyes and let that energy stoke her desire. For him. For their music. She’d go home high on their stolen glances.
That’s what seeing him again was—a new hit of an old narcotic. It had made her panic when he’d tried to touch her. She didn’t know what would happen if he did. What she’d do.
“Different,” she told Silas. “He looks older, like we all do.”
“I mean, how was he? Did he speak to you?”
They weren’t having the same conversation. She’d come there looking for commiseration while Silas seemed thrilled at the prospect of Luke’sreturn. She should have known. The two had bonded from the moment she’d introduced them, with Silas eventually becoming a father figure when Luke needed it most. But as far as she knew, Luke had ghosted Silas for more than a decade, too. That her uncle seemed unbothered by it made her even angrier.
“That man had a multiplatinum hit single and is married to the biggest country music star in the world. He’s doing fine.” August folded her arms. “Even had the nerve to apologize.”
Silas paused. “Good.”
“No, not good. I don’t want an apology. I want—” The memory of his near touch rose again, taunting her. “I want him to leave me alone.” August rubbed her face, trying to scrub away anything that might betray her thoughts. You shouldn’t want someone you hate. It said something bad about her. That there was a wire loose somewhere.
“You sure all this is about Luke?” Silas tossed his cigarette out the window. He grabbed a chair and sat across from her. “You’re out here drunk and getting into fights. That’s not like you.” He sagged in his seat. “Did you go to that meeting I recommended?”
August had attended one of the grief support group meetings Silas referred her to. She’d sat in a room surrounded by people who had experienced more loss in a single day than she may ever see in a lifetime: wives who’d lost husbands, twins who’d lost siblings. One woman had left her four-year-old alone in the bathtub to get a towel and came back to find the girl unconscious. “She had a seizure,” the woman had said, devoid of emotion, like there was nothing left to feel.
The idea of processing her grief through their suffering felt cannibalistic. Her loss was so small in comparison. Everyone had been waiting for Birdie to pass since her diagnosis. She hadn’t recognized August in a year.
“Iwent,” August told Silas. He looked annoyed, so she added, “And I’ll go back. Things are just really busy at King’s.”
“That’s a lie, but you can keep it ’cause you clearly need it. Promise me you’ll talk to someone about what you’re dealing with. That includes Luke.”
“I dealt with Luke already.”
“Burning his CD in a trash can doesn’t count. You ain’t a goddamn witch.”
She shrugged. “The Chicks say it’s okay to hate a man forever. It’s very healthy.”
Silas frowned. “What chicks?”
“Dixie Chicks.”
“Oh. Why’d they change it?”
“Because Black lives matter now.”
“Ah.” He returned to his desk and stared at the spreadsheets without reading them. “Maybe you should listen to him. I know he hurt you, but it sounds like he’s trying to make things right.”
August remembered how surprised Luke had been to see her. He’d claimed not to know she still worked at King’s, which meant his apology hadn’t been a priority. His first trip home in thirteen years, and she came second to eggs and bacon.
“You don’t know him like I do,” she said. “Luke’s only here because he didn’t have a choice.”
