Page 29 of Sweet Temptation
“I need the protein, and I don’t need the dairy. I don’t handle dairy well.” I look down at my plate like it holds the answers to the wonders of the world because it’s easier than looking at him. “Eggs are an easy option.” And just to hit it home, a cough builds in my chest that I try to push down.
Lucky stops, his sandwich midway to his mouth. “You okay?”
I nod and take another bite. “Thanks for driving me home tonight.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.” This time, Lucky is the one not looking at me. “Just take care of yourself.”
His words aren’t meant to be mean, but that doesn’t soften the blow.
“I’ve done a pretty good job taking care of myself up till this point. I don’t need another brother looking after me.” I turn away and put my eggs and the pans in the sink. Screw it. I’ll deal with the dishes in the morning. “Goodnight, Lucky.”
I’m halfway to the stairs when I swear I hear Lucky, but I pretend I don’t because it’s easier not to. I pretend the whole way up the stairs. I pretend as I step out of my clothes and carefully lay his sweatshirt on my favorite chair in the corner of the room. And I pretend the entire time I’m trying to force my body to relax enough to sleep while those same words I’m pretending don’t exist play on repeat in my mind, like a playlist set to loop.
“I’ve never looked at you like a sister, Lex.”
Lucky
Dad
Meet me at The Busy Bee for breakfast.
Lucky
What if I wasn’t awake?
Dad
You are. Be there at nine.
Lucky
What if I had practice?
Dad
It’s the day after a game on Labor Day weekend, and I play poker with the coach. You don’t have practice. Shower and meet me for breakfast. See you in an hour.
Ishould have ignored the fucking message, but my father isn’t a man used to being ignored. He’s not a man who allows you to ignore him either.
Fuck me. I might not have played last night, but I was fucking tired enough to feel like I had. But that didn’t stop me from getting up and getting my ass to the Bee.
Whether I wanted to or not.
I bypass the hostess and walk to the back corner of the diner, where I know he’s inevitably sitting.
Out of the way.
Private. Or as private as you’re getting in Kroydon Hills.
Two things he’s always looking for. “Hey, Pop.”
“I ordered you coffee.” He motions to the full mug in front of me as I sit.
“Thanks.” I wait for a minute before giving in. “Wanna tell me why I’ve been summoned?”
The waitress comes over, pen and pad in hand. She’s worked here for years. More years than I’ve been alive. “What am I getting ya, honey?”
Dad cracks a smile. “I already ordered. You’re honey.”
