Page 89 of August Lane
She’d been right before, though. Surprises were never good.
“How could she do this?” August asked Silas. “Do you know her? Was she always a bad person?”
Silas sighed. “No one’s all good or bad.” He pointed to a photo on the wall. “That’s Luke’s dad. Found it last night and put it up there so I could show it to him today.”
August stared at the tall, handsome man grinning at the camera. The smile was identical to Luke’s: lips askew, a shallow indention on his right cheek that became a dimple when he laughed.
“How did he die?”
“In a bar fight, trying to protect somebody. Doubt he knew their name. That’s the kind of man he was. Someone was being bullied and he took it personally.”
August smiled. “Luke got it from him, then? He’s so kind to people.”
“Maybe.” Silas gave her a pointed look. “But did you hear me? Jason was in abar fight. On a Wednesday afternoon.”
Ghost walked into the room before August could ask Silas what he meant. She jumped to her feet. “How is he?”
“Doped up and loopy as fuck. Cut looked worse than it was. He’ll be okay.” He looked at Silas. “Took them sutures like infantry, though.”
Something flowed between the two men that August couldn’t decipher. Instead of trying, she rushed past them to get to the studio. Luke was sleeping on the couch, his arm covered in bandages.
August sat beside him. His eyes fluttered open, glazed and unfocused. He smiled and whispered, “You,” then he fell asleep again.
“That’s right. Me.” She kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
2023
What Luke loved most about the pond on his family’s farm was how hidden it was. He’d found it by getting lost one day like a little boy in a fantasy novel, and that’s what it became for him: his own secret garden. His rabbit hole. Sitting beside the water under a full moon was still comforting, even though his most vivid memory of the place was scribbling pieces of his father’s lost poems in August’s journal with his brain still swimming in beer.
What he’d told her that night was true. He’d tripped and fallen while trying to leave the house. But he’d left out details, like Ava calling him useless and shoving him on his way out the door. He’d been afraid August would judge him for it, that she’d wonder what kind of man he was or why he’d let a woman do that to him, even if Ava was his mother. Looking at him back then, the big, tall football player, it would have been natural to assume thathewas the threat, something his mother had implied more than once. Ava used to call him scary if he looked at her sideways during one of her rants. “Oh, so you’re a man now? Big and scary? What kind of real man threatens his mother?”
That question had always plagued him. What kind of man was he? He knew kindness and loyalty were the goal. He knew he didn’t want to be “big and scary,” even though sometimes those assumptions could be a shield. But he didn’t want to be a safe choice either, some easy-listening earworm everyone loved until the song was over. Good art should be dangerous. Those songwriting lessons from August had ruined him in ways that saved his life.
The music industry, however, was a game. He’d made a mistake thinking he could win it with an August-Jojo reunion. But the business was cyclical, a constant rotation of bad and worse choices. Winning implied an ending.
Luke texted Ethan but skipped the greeting because he was tired of pretending they were being read.I’m not good at being honest. It was never safe for us. I always told people what they wanted to hear, including you. I think that’s why you stopped listening. So, here’s the truth. I don’t regret leaving you. But I should have told you why I stayed away.
The pond was suddenly doused in headlights. Luke shaded his eyes and stared until he could make out August’s car. She climbed out holding a can of bug spray. “You’ve been in the city for a while, so I figured you forgot we bathe in DEET this time of year.”
He lifted his hand. She tossed the canister to him and watched as he covered his skin with the smelly spray. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
August didn’t answer right away. She was dressed in khaki shorts and tank top, which was only slightly less distracting than those sundresses she preferred. He preferred them, too. Each time she wore one, it felt targeted, like a problem she was daring him to solve.
“Your mother showed up at King’s.”
Luke stilled. “Was she on something?”
“Yes. I drove her home.”
An image of her wrestling Ava into her little Nissan made his stomach churn. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
“Neither should you.” She gestured at his truck. “So go home. I’ll check on her before I leave.”
Luke didn’t normally let people do things for him. It made him feel lazy, like he couldn’t be trusted to clean up his own mess. But help from August felt like a gift.You’re not alone, tied with a bow. He moved closer, just shy of arm’s reach. “You still mad at me for stopping the other night?”
Her eyes dipped to his mouth. “Yes.”
