Page 53 of Unexpected

I tried to backtrack and figure out how my question could have caused such a visceral reaction. Parents were a relatively safe topic of conversation.

“No, they didn’t.” His response was surprisingly clipped and strained.

I gulped back more wine. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to ask questions, you know? Get to know you… like you said the other day, we’ve been neighbors for years and don’t know each other at all, so I just wanted to make conversation. I didn’t mean to—”

“Hazel,” he cut me off midramble with an authoritative tone. I liked the way my name sounded when he said it like that, and it immediately shut me up. I watched a little smile creep across his face, pulling at one corner of his mouth but not touching his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. My parents are just a tough subject.”

“Hmm… I see,” I said, trying to not ramble and give my nerves time to settle back down.“Strained relationship with parents, got it.”

“I guess you could say that. They actually died when Josh and I were teenagers.”

“Oh, wow, Luke. I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine losing your parents at such a young age.” I struggled to find the right words and imagined little Luke, maybe just old enough to drive, losing his parents and consoling his younger brother. Because I knew he would have. Because that’s the kind of person Luke was, and I had sorely misjudged him.

“Yeah, it was hard, but Josh and I stuck together, and we lived with my mom’s brother for a while. He was a…” He stumbled for a moment before blowing out a breath like he was carefully choosing his words. “He was a decent person. He took Josh and me in when we had nowhere else to go. He passed away a few years ago.”

He cleared his throat and refilled his wineglass. The pain of the memories seemed to still be raw based on the twisted expression on his face. The usually calm, neutral facade was long gone.

“Shit, Luke. I’m so—”

“No need to be sorry. You didn’t kill them, so don’t apologize,” he said with a slight smile. “I just haven’t talked to anyone about it in a while. Most of my friends know the story already, and since Josh and Zach are my only family left, we don’t bring it up often. I thought it would be harder to talk about, but this wasn’t too painful.”

“I understand,” I simply stated before refilling both of our wineglasses and finishing off the bottle. “I’m always happy to listen.”

“Well, the details aren’t exactly ones I like to relive, at least about my parents. My uncle just passed away from a heart attack. Natural causes or whatever.”

I read between the lines of that statement—his parents did not die from natural causes and therefore, it was probably painful for him to relive.

“So, how’s the book going?” Luke asked, changing the subject completely. I was so caught off guard by the question that I almost choked on my last bite of potato.

With food still in my mouth, I froze and stared up at him, shocked that he remembered my confession from our post-saving-Sadie dinner.

“It’s going well,” I said, finishing my food.

He chuckled and smiled a genuine smile this time, showing off his gorgeous, straight teeth. “Come on, Angel, you’ve got to give me more than that. Will you tell me what it’s about? What genre?”

Although I didn’t believe Luke would make fun of me for my genre of choice, I didn’t want to chance it. Even the slightest look of disappointment or dissatisfaction would have plummeted my self-esteem. It was partially why I decided not to tell anyone that I was writing besides my sister and Luke, accidentally.

“It’s a book, or it will be when I’m done. I don’t want to give away all the details yet.”

“Yes, I remember you saying that, but I don’t see how that prevents you from telling me what genre it is or how it’s going.”

“Do you really care to know that?” The question came off a little dismissive and the tone of my voice was sharp. Luke didn’t seem to care, though.

He leaned forward in his chair, bracing his elbows on the metal table in front of him, and with his right hand, reached out and carefully gripped my left. Even the small touch of our fingertips pressed together sent my body buzzing and my heart racing. I also leaned forward—eager to be closer to him—until the cold metal of the table began seeping through my dress and into my arms.

“Hazel, I want to know everything about you. Even the smallest detail. I also don’t ask questions I don’t want to know the answer to. So, please tell me about your book.”

When he put it like that—looking me directly in the eye, voice unwavering and so honest—how could a woman possibly say no to fucking anything?

“It’s a romance novel.” Like the man was a truth serum, the words came tumbling out of my mouth. I braced myself for the reaction I knew was coming.

“I love romance novels.”

What?“Wait. What?”

I pushed a few strands of hair out of my face as the wind picked up, blowing chilled air around us and overpowering the heater for a moment.

“Yeah, I like romance novels. I used to read a few in high school and college. My mom read them all the time growing up, and they remind me of her. Haven’t read one in a while, though.” As he spoke, he began rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb in soft, even strokes. The action was familiar, and for a moment, I hoped he wouldn’t ever stop.

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