Page 53 of August Lane
August pictured her grandmother crouched in the dirt, waving around a gardening spade while swearing never to touch them again. “They’re your responsibility,” Birdie had claimed. But she couldn’t help herself. August would grab a watering can, determined to keep her promise, but often find Birdie outside, tending to the flowers.
Luke passing up cash to get her roses was one of those small things that felt big. Like making a stranger laugh in the dark. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “Or paint or fix anything. I offered you the house, free and clear.”
“Like I said, that’s not why I did it.” He peeled off his work gloves and threw them on the ground. “The roses are yours. So is the house. I want to give them back to you.”
He tried to make eye contact, but August refused. His gaze was too earnest and open, the kind she used to fall into. Luke would offer some sweet gesture and she’d gorge herself sick, convinced it was enough to live on. It wasn’t. Kindness didn’t make you trustworthy.
But dear God, she loved his sweetness.
Once the screen door slammed behind him, August let out a shaky breath. She rubbed her eyes, grinding sweat into them as punishment for her thoughts. Luke was a married man. Everyone already thought she’d wrecked one home. She’d never live down wrecking another a few weeks later.
Someone said her name, and she ignored the familiar voice, sure it had been conjured by her guilty conscience. But then she heard it again, louder and more insistent. August opened her eyes to see Terry Dixon glaring at her with a bouquet of red roses in his fist. He kicked up dirt around the flower bed. “Didn’t take long to replace me, did it?”
Luke rushed through his shower. He was eager to return to August now that he knew she was serious about working with him. When she’d firstsuggested it, he could only focus on the risk of getting fired for refusing to sing “Another Love Song.” But last night, he’d thought up a different plan, one that would get them both what they wanted.
He was going to pitch the new song to Jojo herself.
Despite her denials, August wanted her mother’s approval more than anything. A new song from him might go viral for a few days, but Jojo releasing a single written by her daughter would earn a different level of attention. Maybe get August a publishing deal. It might even heal the mysterious rift between the two women, which was worth more than fame, money, or rosebushes. Facilitating their reunion was the closest thing to atonement he could offer.
In his rush to get back to her, Luke pulled his T-shirt and jeans on over damp skin and didn’t bother tying his sneakers before walking out to the porch. But August wasn’t alone. She was standing next to a stocky Black man holding a bouquet of roses that looked so similar to the ones Luke hadn’t planted yet that, for a second, he thought she’d caught a thief. Then he noticed the even cut stems bound by grocery store tissue paper. August said, “It’s not what you think,” and Luke knew he’d stumbled into an argument between two people with history.
Or maybe they were still together. He’d never asked if she was seeing anyone because he didn’t want to know.
Luke stepped back, intending to retreat without being noticed, but the guy set furious eyes on him. August followed his gaze and winced. She gave Luke a tired look that said his timing was terrible. Luke answered with a shrug that told her he was aware.
“There he is,” the guy said. “Flavor of the week.”
August blocked his view of Luke. “Go home, Terry. You’re drunk.”
“Shirley threw me out again. I don’t have a home, thanks to you.” Terry glared at her. Once Luke saw the bloodshot glitter in the man’s eyes, he moved closer so he could jump in if necessary.
Terry noticed Luke sizing him up and chuckled. “Chill, Country Drake. I ain’t here to fight you. Not over her.”
His tone implied there were better prizes. Better women.
“Then maybe you should leave, like she said.” Luke glanced at Terry’s flowers. “Take those with you. She’s got plenty.”
Terry eyed the unplanted bushes. “Hope she made digging all them holes worth your while, at least.”
Luke knew his temper intimately. It flared as faint needles along his spine that would cluster and steamroll over everything in its path. He could barely restrain it when he was drinking, but he typically won that battle now that he was sober. It’d been years since he’d brawled over dumb shit he could barely remember the next day. But he’d never learned to restrain himself when it came to August. Watching her now, how she shrank from Terry’s insults, erased every anger management strategy his therapist taught him.
He wanted to break this man. Grind him to dust.
Luke’s hands were in fists before his brain registered the movement. August touched his arm and said, “I can handle this.” She stepped to Terry. Luke wanted to snatch her back. She shouldn’t have to deal with guys like this. Richard Green in high school. Now this asshole. She deserved someone who knew how to love her.
“You’re hurt,” August said to Terry. “But picking a fight won’t help.”
“Who’s trying to fight?” Terry forced another laugh. “I’m just stating facts. Dude, ain’t you married? She likes ’em unavailable.”
Luke started to speak, but August touched him again, asking for patience. “You’re hurt,” she repeated, in a louder, stronger voice. “Birdie died and I used you to make me feel better. I should have told you that from the beginning instead of letting you think this was something it wasn’t. I was careless and I’m sorry. But regret is all I owe you. And it’s the last thing you’ll get from me.”
Instead of responding, Terry looked at Luke. “You in love with her?”
Luke was grateful that August was focused on Terry. He knew the answer was clear on his face. Terry grunted and hurled the roses into the yard. They all watched them fall into the grass, a red heap in a sea of green. Terry gave August one last dirty look before he walked away.
August didn’t speak until Terry’s car became tiny brake lights in the distance. “Were you about to fight for me, Country Drake?”
Luke grimaced. “I don’t look like that dude.”
