Page 502 of Hate Mates

“Oh, shit, old man. How’d you survive? You okay? Need a ride to the emergency room?” He grins.

“Shut up,” I joke back.

Brian laughs again, his eyes bright. Hewouldgive me shit about being an old man. With his plaid shirt and board shorts he takes a step back, eyeing me when I’m quiet.

“Oh—you’re actually worried about it,” he says a few minutes later. “Did you two fight?”

“It was weird,” I admit. “The whole thing was weird. I didn’t mean to be a prick about it, but she was really upset. Now I don’t know what to do. It’s keeping me up at night.”

“It’ll be okay,” Brian says, sincerely this time. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Just a misunderstanding, right? She’ll come around, or she’ll move out, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Doesn’t sit right with me.”

“I know.” He comes around the shelves and slaps my shoulder. “You’re too in your head, man. Worrying over one conversation for days and days. That’s why it’ll turn out. You care too much.”

Butwhydo I care? That’s what bothers me. I don’t have any reason to care about Luna like this. I don’t have any reason to think about that conversation over and over.

“Yeah,” I agree.

The door to the shop, ringing the little bell above the door, opens before either one of us can say anything else. I turn to call a greeting to whoever the customer is and can’t say a damn word, because it’s Luna. Standing there in a beautiful yellow sundress with her hair piled on her head in a messy bun. She’s fucking breath taking.

“Morning,” Brian says, like he actually works here. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Luna answers softly. She glances at me and then pulls her lips into a thin line. Her fingers toy in front of her. It’s obvious she didn't come to fight and there’s something there. I can feel it. “I’m actually…” She takes a few steps into the store and stops dead in front of the shelf with my old sketches on it. The sheepish smile on her face drops away. She blinks, then blinks again, her breath catching.

“Hey,” I go to her, moving around the counter and past a few canvases. “About the other day,” I start but she’s not looking at me. She stares wide eyed at something else, completely distracted.

I look down at the sketch that’s affecting her this much. It’s a woman on the beach wearing a big sun hat, grinning up from her towel. Something about her face looks familiar. So familiar that my heart races. The woman looks like her. It’s not though, it can’t be. I drew that one years ago.

“What is it?” I ask Luna, swallowing thickly, hoping it’s something else. “Something wrong?”

“This is—” She gestures at the sketch, then swallows hard. “This is my mom.”

“I can see the resemblance.” I start, “I don’t know though. I just draw people sometimes.” She’s so close in looks to Luna, it could be. “Does your mom come up here a lot? I did this one a few years ago I think. Had it in storage until today.”

Luna’s expression falls and I am royally fucked. Two times in a row. I said something or I’ve just found the bruise that’s been causing her pain.

“If you want, you can have it,. I offer and glance back to Brian for back up. I almost joke that I could get rid of it if she’d rather. But hell, at this point I’m afraid to say the wrong thing so I bite my tongue.

“I—” Luna covers her mouth with her hand. “My mom?—”

She heaves in a breath, and tears shine at the corners of her eyes. I can tell she’s trying hard not to let them fall, and it’s doing something painful as hell to my chest. Everything in my body goes cold and I don’t know what to do.

“You okay?” I ask her even though it’s obvious that she’s not.

Then she blinks, and her tears start falling. There are so damn many that I want to pull her into my arms and wipe them away, but I can’t do that. “Hey,” I gentle my voice to ask her if she wants a hug or a shot or whatever she needs.

Luna turns toward me, her chin quivering, more tears sliding down her cheeks. “I just came in because I wanted to tell you—I wanted to say?—”

I wait, holding my breath. I’ll listen to whatever she wants to tell me. I’ll tell her I’m sorry for being a prick. I’ll tell her it wasn’t her fault that I couldn’t sleep, even if it was. I’ll say whatever I can to make her feel better. I hate seeing her like this.

“I can’t,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I can’t.”

Then she rushes out of the store without a backward glance. The shop door closes hard behind her, leaving me and Brian in a quiet, empty store.

“Oh, man,” Brian says. “What happened to her?”

Chapter Six

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