Page 26 of Unexpected

Back in his room, the same was true. Everything was relatively tidy but for a few clothes and shoes here and there.

As quietly as I could, I opened the bedroom door and peeked down the hallway. There was faint music coming from the kitchen and I was thankful that his house had the same layout—with almost the same finishes—as mine so I didn’t have to wander around trying to find the front door.

I opened the door farther but didn’t take a step before Sadie darted past me and into the main living area. Over the music, I could hear Luke’s deep voice when he greeted Sadie. As the back door opened, I softly padded down the hardwood floors of the hallway and into the living room.

“You’re up,” Luke said as he left the door slightly ajar for Sadie to come back in.

“Mostly,” I said with a smile. I could smell something greasy and fried, and my stomach rumbled at the array of fast-food breakfast options on the kitchen island.

“Well, I got one of everything. The lady at the window looked like she was going to quit over my order, but to me, there’s nothing better than this when dealing with a hangover.” He fanned his arms out over the island.

“My stomach agrees,” I said as I rounded the island and stood next to him. My earlier plan of leaving immediately was easily forgotten as I grabbed a sandwich and a hash brown. I also wanted to delay the inevitable as long as possible. Luke slid a coffee across the counter and into my waiting hand. Our fingers brushed for a moment, and I was thrust back to the day before and his tender touch on my neck.

He was a larger man, and his presence took up an entire room, but his touch was light. The contradiction was fascinating.

He pointed to one of the wooden barstools at the island, so I sat as he took the seat next to me. “So, how do you feel?”

“Like warmed up shit, but I think the pain meds are kicking in, so that’s a good sign,” I said around a way too large bite of my breakfast sandwich.

He chuckled, but it sounded like a pity laugh at best. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched his face fall and the skin between his brow furrow slightly before he took a sip of his coffee. I didn’t necessarily know why he was concerned, but I figured it had to do with me. I wanted to scoot closer, feel his calming presence wash over me and tell him I was okay.

It probably would have been a lie, though, so I settled for the next best thing. “Thank you for last night. I don’t usually need to be rescued from bars, but I appreciate it.” I was sure getting a call late at night that his crazy neighbor was drunk at a bar wasn’t what he expected.

He nodded. “Not a problem. Glad Josh called me.”

“I didn’t know that’s the bar Josh worked at,” I commented, trying to make small talk.

“Yeah, we used to go to Murphy’s all the time—us and our group of friends.”

“That’s cool. I liked it.”

“Do you remember much from last night?” he asked around a bite of sandwich.

I nodded, finishing a bite of my own food. “I remember drinking, some of the dancing, I think I wanted to do karaoke, but your brother talked me out of it. I like all the paraphernalia and signs they have on the wall, I remember going around and reading them after maybe my sixth or seventh shot of tequila,” I chuckled, and so did Luke. I was trying to cover my embarrassment for the situation in humor, but it wasn’t working. I could still feel the gnawing in my gut.

“What was that sign above the door about?”

Luke tensed beside me and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Which one?”

“Expect the Unexpected.”

He shrugged. “Rhonda, the owner, thought it was fitting with the name of the bar—Murphy’s Law says that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, so she said you should expect the unexpected.”

I nodded, remembering Murphy’s Law and all its rules. “Seems pessimistic,” I murmured. But it also felt truer than anything I’d heard lately. It was odd, though, to put it right above the front door.

“Or realistic,” he said back. His whole body was tense, his jaw tight as he robotically chewed his food without sparing me a glance.

“Well, when you say it like that, it makes it sound like all unexpected things are bad. That the unexpected thing means something’s gone wrong, but I won’t believe that. Some unexpected things are good.”

“Sure,” he responded and continued eating. For some reason, he seemed to really despise the subject, so I let it drop.

He didn’t say anything else, and we ate our breakfast in silence—I was too occupied with settling my nausea and hunger with the greasy food—but occasionally, I would catch him looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He seemed upset by more than just the earlier conversation topic, and I realized I was probably a burden having to be picked up from the bar drunk off my ass in the middle of the night. He didn’t sign up for that when he moved in next door or gave me his number.

“Okay, well, I’m going to go get my car. I really do appreciate your help, and umm… I don’t plan on this happening again,” I said as I slid from the barstool and chunked my trash in the bin.

“Wait,” Luke said just as he gripped my wrist, keeping me from going anywhere. I tried not to flinch away from his touch. “I’ll take you to your car.”

“You don’t have to do that, Luke. You’ve already done more than enough,” I argued.

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