Page 4 of Code Word
“I will,” I said.
She came back with my phone, holding onto it for a second when I took it. She met my eyes, held my gaze, searching for something. Then with a nod, she was gone.
I wasn’t sure what kind of goodbye that was, but Luke stirred, mumbling something in his sleep. I rubbed his back again, and instead of turning the TV on, I made a phone call.
Nohello, no greeting, just a familiar voice that made me smile.
“Blake, you’re back. How was your week-long sabbatical with the eat-pray-love crowd?”
I chuckled. “Hey, Maddox. It went about as well as expected.”
He snorted. “Sorry to hear that. How did Luke survive without you? I didn’t hear from him. Left a message, told him to come over, but no bueno.”
I sighed, my free hand raking through Luke’s hair, frowning at the ceiling. “Well, yeah. About that. That’s why I’m calling.”
TWO
Stayingat the cabins in winter always hit different. In summer, it was all about the beer and cookouts, late sunsets, and guitar jam sessions long after dark.
In winter, it was about campfires and hoodies and UGG boots.
I don’t know why, but I always loved the cooler weather, especially at the cabins. The vibe was chill, relaxing. It was peaceful and almost reflective.
Luke and I had been here by ourselves countless times in the last few years.
This time felt a little different, though.
He needed time away, and frankly, so did I. Maybe for different reasons, I wasn’t sure. Bec and I needed some time apart; I knew that much. Maybe we’d just spent too much time together lately.
Luke’s reasons were unclear to me, and I was bringing him here to give him some much-needed space. And with the hope he’d tell me what was up.
He’d slept a few hours yesterday, lying on me, and when he’d woken up, he was confused and embarrassed. He’ddrooled on my shirt, and I’d laughed about it. His face all rumpled and flushed, and I’d teased him about that too.
He’d told me to fuck off.
I’d made him a sandwich and told him that Vana had said she was done.
I’d told him what she’d said, about being the third wheel, and he just chewed and swallowed and nodded.
He seemed relieved.
I’d told him Bec was at his folks’ place for the night, and he’d looked at me then, his blue eyes sparking with something strange that I couldn’t quite place.
Then I’d asked him if he was okay.
He’d put his half-eaten sandwich down like it was too hard to swallow. “Yeah, sure.”
The way he’d lied to me so easily stung, but I knew he’d tell me when he was ready.
“I’m gonna shower,” he’d mumbled, talking to the floor instead of me. “And go back to bed. Sorry, I’m just...”
I’d watched him walk away, looking smaller than I’d ever seen him.
He was definitely not okay.
So I’d spent my night doing laundry and adding to the basket of groceries Bec had left on the counter.
Seven o’clock in the morning, I’d opened Luke’s bedroom door. It was too dark, too messy—so unlike him. There were clothes all over the floor, his guitar and his keyboard, his laptop and papers; everything, everywhere. Instead of making a big deal out of that, instead of picking anything up, I flicked on the lights and pulled back his covers.
