Page 15 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
“Eggy?”
“Definitely eggy, but don’t forget creepy and weird. And there was me thinking Collier’s Creek was a normal, straight down the line little town. But then he did say he came from somewhere called Bumfuck City—”
Arlo threw back his head and laughed. How could he stay pissed with this guy?
“But before we wandered into the murkiness that is eggs and wrestling, I was trying to apologize. You’ve probably noticed I have a tendency to, erm, say the wrong things, or say them in a way that’s easily misconstrued. And I’m sorry, I honestly am. I offended you when all you did was come to my rescue.”
Uncertainty, as though unsure whether his apology would be enough, flittered across Lucian’s face, as he pushed the horrible glasses that had slipped back up his nose. Arlo’s stomach knotted. He wanted to wipe that uncertainty from Lucian’s face, as much as he wanted to sweep away the heavy fall of hair across his brow. His grip tightened on his beer.
“Accepted. Perhaps we should start over?”
Lucian nodded, all the anxiety that had dogged him melting away like mountain mist.
“So, Luci-Ann—”
Lucian groaned. “Luci I’ve kind of learned to tolerate, but I hate it when people call me Luci-Ann. It really gets to me. It’s all about where to put the stress, so it was an honest mistake on Francine’s part, but I had to correct her, although,” he said, as a worried frown broke out on his face, “I hope I didn’t offend her?”
“No, you wouldn’t have. And what’s the problem with correcting somebody’s pronunciation? She looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but believe me, that lady’s a tough cookie.”
“It’s what the bullies at school used to call me, when they decided it was my turn to take a beating.” A heavy frown creased Lucian’s brow, and he stared ahead of him, back into the past. His voice dropped. “But it was also what Miles—” Lucian stopped, as private thoughts teetered on becoming public words. “So, erm, yes, there are reasons why I really don’t appreciate being called Luci-Ann.”
“And it’s not your name.” Arlo smiled, wanting to bring back the sunshine to Lucian’s face that had disappeared behind a cloud.
“So, how do you know our hosts?”
“Oh, Hank and Francine, I’ve known them since high school. Even though I moved away for school and then got caught up in building a life in New York, we stayed friends. They’ve been great at helping me settle back in. I hope you realize they’ll adopt you and declare you part of the family.” Arlo laughed and Lucian joined in.
He’d been only half joking. He appreciated the invites to family gatherings and the various town functions Francine seemed to be the organizer of, all part of reuniting him with the town, but he’d found himself increasingly scrabbling for excuses not to be dragged into every musical recital of this, every amateur performance of that, every Saturday evening potluck gathering.
“You grew up here?”
Arlo hesitated before he nodded, unsure how much he wanted to reveal.
“If you don’t want to say anything more, that’s okay.”
Lucian stared up at him and straightened his glasses on his nose. They weren’t the ones he’d been wearing before, but they were just as ugly.
“It’s okay, there’s no secret. My parents had some land — not enough to be called a ranch — just outside town. It barely provided a living, but they were determined I was going to take over.”
“And you had other ideas?”
“Yeah. It caused a lot of arguments, and stuff was said on both sides we later came to regret.
“When I went east for school, we didn’t talk for a couple of years. It was hard, because I loved my mom and dad and I knew they felt the same about me, but I guess pride and stubbornness got in the way for all of us. I think it was why I made sure I kept up the friendship with Hank and Francine; they were my lifeline to the Creek.
“I came back for their wedding, and I went to see my parents. We talked, and we put a lot of things right. They could see I was happy and that I’d made the right decision for me.”
“So you became reconciled? That’s good. My family drive me nuts, and I know I do the same to them, but I couldn’t imagine being without them. Even if they think I’m incapable of running my own life.” Lucian huffed out a laugh. “Which they’re right about, more often than not. Do they still live here? Your parents, I mean?”
“No. They died, within three months of each other, a few years ago. I later sold off some of the land and built a new house, where I now live — the old place was rickety as hell, and freezing cold in the winter. So I came home in the end, just like they wanted.”
They lapsed into silence amid the laughter and chatter. Yes, he’d come back to the town that had been his home, to carve out the life he kept telling himself he wanted, but sometimes as he sat alone in his big, beautiful, silent house, maybe what he’d really done was run away.
“How are the flowers holding up? They should be good for seven to ten days.”
The sudden change of subject threw Arlo, but he was glad to leave his return to his hometown behind.
“The flowers…”
