Page 14 of Lucas

Cheryl never called me back. Oh, I’m going to have a field day with this one the next time I see her. I’m gonna call her out on her shit and watch her turn fifty shades of red. The good news is I meal prepped and I won’t have to eat canned soup all week long. Thank god for my dishwasher is all I can say, since I always use every damn pot and pan I own. Don’t ask. My life is not a glamorous one by any means, but I love my appliances.

Now I’m going to soak in a hot tub with loads of bubbles. Pour myself a glass of wine or two and finish my book I started on Friday night. Hopefully, I won’t get another text from my girls to save their sorry ass. And this is how I spend a typical Sunday.

Exciting? Hell no, but with any luck, Lucas will want a repeat of last night. A girl can dream.

9

Lucas

Last night,I was too wasted to tell my best friends why I passed out on the rooftop. So, instead of trying to pry it out of me, they crashed in my living room and let me sleep it off. No questions asked. But now it’s Monday and Willow’s in the kitchen making breakfast, while I take a shower. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’m not hungry, or that I don’t have the balls to fill her in on what’s happening. But I know I need to. Eventually they’ll find out, and I might as well be the one to come clean.

After stepping out of the shower, I swipe my hand across the steamy mirror. The condensation drips down the glass while I glance at my reflection. Funny, I don’t look different, but I sure as hell feel altered. Distorted. Who the fuck am I kidding? This life I’ve been living is nothing but a joke. A sick, fucked up con that myfamilywould have pulled off for the rest of my life if I hadn’t walked in on them.

Fuck!

I smash the face that stares back at me as if that’s going to fix what they’ve already broken. And the only thing that breaks is the mirror into tiny little shards that scatter across the floor. I grip the sink, take a few deep breaths, and hang my head. How can I possibly explain something to them when I can’t figure it out myself?

“Lucas, what the fuck? Open the door, now!” My eyes bounce to the door when Jet slams into it. At this rate, he’ll pull it clear off the hinges.

“I’m fine, really. I just dropped a bottle, give me a few to clean it up.”

“Fine, but if you’re not out in five, I’m busting down the door.”

I bend down, gather some of the larger pieces, and toss them into the trash. It gets tricky when I try cleaning up the little bits, so I just leave them. Nothing I can really do without a broom, so I wash my bloody hands, dry off, and get dressed.

Ready or not, here I come.

Three sets of eyes study me as I stride out of the bathroom. I hide my injured hand safely inside my pants pocket. Not that it will be there for very long, but it will buy me some time.

“You okay?” Willow’s concern has me feeling all kinds of emotions I sure as hell don’t want.

“Nothing coffee can’t cure.” I’m quick with a wink and hurry to the counter so I can grab myself a cup, hiding my hand. Once I’m finished, I saunter over to the table and take a seat.

Trevor leans forward while I pick at the food that Willow prepared. Everyone else’s plates look like they’ve been licked clean, but between my hangover and my little secret, my appetite is nil.

“Care to explain why you’re eating with your left hand, Lucas?” Fuck, I should have known that Trevor would notice. Well, my busted hand is only the icing on the cake.

“I punched the mirror, it broke, and I cleaned it up. No biggie.”

“Ah, yeah, it is a biggie since you play guitar with your right hand. Let’s have a look, and we’ll be the judge and jury.”

Willow sucks in a breath when I lay my hand on the table. Yeah, my hand’s swollen like a fuck and my knuckles are still bleeding. I know exactly where she’s heading when her chair scrapes across the floor. “Be careful of glass, Willow. I didn’t sweep it all up yet.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment, Lucas. You know that?” It’s a rhetorical question, so I ignore it. “Okay, we gave you plenty of time to sober up, spill your guts, and tell us what’s eating you alive.”

Everyone’s eyes are focused on me and I fucking hate it! I also know they legit care and wouldn’t have spent the night if they didn’t.

“Shit just got real at the Knight house the other day. Apparently, my so-called mother didn’t carry me in her womb. I’m the illegitimate bastard from a one-night stand my father had.” Willow immediately stops cleaning my hand to look up at me. I don’t meet her stare because I don’t want anyone’s pity. Just telling them what they wanted to hear. The truth and nothing but the truth. “Yeah, I walked in on a private conversation between Landon andhismother. So, I confronted them and when my dear old dad showed up, I wanted to blow the whistle on the whole charade. But I refrained. Funny thing is my birth mother was a nightclub singer. Guess that’s where I get my pipes from.”

“Jesus H. Christ, Lucas!” Trevor said. “I had no idea when he called it would be a kick in the teeth like this. I just thought you guys had your weekly falling out and it worried him when you stormed off. This is...”

“Fucked up,” everyone speaks in unison. It eases some of the tension and we all have a laugh or two. Until we realize the magnitude of the situation and we all grow silent.

“It might be too soon, but have you considered searching for your real mother? Did you get her name from your dad?” Ah, poor Willow is ever the optimist.

“No, I didn’t stick around to find out, and truthfully, I’m not sure if I want to know. It’s obvious she was greedy and chose her career over her kid, so why would I put myself out there?”

“Just know that whatever you decide, we’re behind you every step of the way.” Trevor knows that I’m so done. Talking about it will not change a thing and I’m too hung over to give a shit at the moment. So, we say our goodbyes with a promise to meet up tomorrow for practice. Trevor was kind enough to remind me we’re only a few days away from the big gig, so I need to get my shit together. Today will be the last day of my very own pity party. Then it’s time to move on.

---