Page 61 of The Edge of Summer
Gabe rolls his eyes. “Lunch ready yet?”
She nods. “It is,” she says. Then she eyes Luke, who usually isn’t present when Gabe or one of the others does the lunch run for the fire station. “Did it really take two of you to pick it up?”
Luke crosses his arms. “There’s a lot of food.”
“Right, that’s why,” she replies with a laugh. “I’ll go let the kitchen know you’re here.”
Clara disappears and Gabe gets distracted talking to a table of elderly women. Which leaves me and Luke standing there. Alone. He takes a step closer. His familiar scent washes over me, and I instantly wish that we were alone—truly alone. I go to move away, not wanting to make things totally obvious, but he catches my arm.
“You’ve been crying,” he says.
I paste on a smile. “Just happy tears. You know how it is.”
He takes another step. I shrug him off, intending on turning away from him. But then, right there, out in the open for everyone to see, he cups my cheeks in his hands. He tilts my head upwards and his eyes roam my face.
“Let’s not lie to each other if we can help it, yeah?”
Of course, the one time I want to be all cool and mysterious, I’m dreadfully transparent. Thankfully, the bell above the front door chimes and a group walks in.
“Duty calls,” I say, pulling out of his hold.
He reluctantly lets me go.
When I get home from work, I tuck the envelope from Carole under my pillow. I don’t want Parker or Sophia to find it. It feels strange, having something to celebrate. I feel like I don’t have any right reaching for something like that.
I make a quick dinner for us, and then after Sophia has gone to bed, I wash the day away with a shower. I stand under the spray and let everything out, the water running cold on me, mingling with my tears. Parker is already holedup in his room by the time I get out of the shower, so I head outside alone.
The night air is warm, caressing my skin as I step onto the welcome mat. My new favourite place to sit at the end of the night is the swing hanging at the end of the porch. I take a seat, my legs curled to the side, and then I close my eyes. Mitchell’s texts flash behind my eyelids, and before I know it, I’m spiralling into wondering if he’s a little bit right.
Was leaving home a mistake? Am I doing this all wrong?
Some time later, the front steps creak and then familiar footsteps sound on the wooden boards. I don’t even have to look to know that it’s Luke. But when I feel him nudge my shoulder, I finally relent, letting my eyes flutter open. He settles onto the swing beside me and drapes his arm along the back.
“Hi,” I say, a little surprised to see him here.
A hint of a smile tilts his lips. “Hi,” he replies.
“What are you doing here?”
Luke looks at me, brown eyes meeting grey. He reaches out and takes a strand of my hair, twisting it around his finger. “I was driving past and saw the light on.” He gives a slight tug on the strand and then releases it. “Just thought I’d stop.”
A teasing smile graces my lips. “Can’t resist me, can you?”
He considers a moment. “No,” he says. He lets out a low chuckle. “I really can’t. I think I’ve made that pretty obvious.”
We settle into the quiet, letting the chirp of crickets and the rustling of the wind in the trees wash over us. Nights onKip Island are predictable. Just you and the starry sky, no city noises to be heard. I thought maybe I would miss Victoria after a while. Up until a couple months ago, it was all I had known. But now that this island has become so familiar, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
“Delilah?”
I know that tone. It was wishful thinking that he would forget all about my crying at Dockside earlier. I look down at my lap, finding my hands rather fascinating in this moment. “Yeah?”
“Tell me what’s wrong?”
The concern in his voice surprises me. I purse my lips. “Being my therapist wasn’t part of our deal.”
He frowns. “Believe it or not, I am capable of caring about another person outside of sex.”
And now I feel terrible. I hate being vulnerable, especially in front of someone like Luke. But would talking to him be so bad? I feel like we started off on the wrong foot and then jumped into metaphorical bed. Maybe we can genuinely learn to be friends. Friends who fuck—but friends all the same.
