Page 78 of This Much Is True
“Goodbye, Ms. Kelley.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Castelli.”
I grin as I hang up.
My phone slides across the table, coming to rest next to the bundle of rope that Luke used on me a few nights ago. My body clenches at the memory.
“We’re going to be fine, Luke,” I say to the empty room. “I need to make sure you know you belong in my world, and I need to make sure you understand how badly I want to be a part of yours.”
I run upstairs. I do my best thinking in the shower.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Luke
“Hey, Megs,” I say, walking into Chase’s kitchen. “Smells good in here. What’s for breakfast?”
“You just missed Chase and Kennedy’s bacon and waffles. It was … a mess, if I’m honest.” She laughs. “But Kennedy saw it on Social and wanted to try it. They stuffed the waffles with bacon somehow. I don’t know. It was good, just super messy.”
“Where is Chase? I need to talk to him.”
“Is everything okay?”
My chest tightens. “It will be.”
“Okay. Well, he went outside a little while ago. I think he was trying to get out of doing the dishes.”
I laugh. “If you see him before I do, tell him I’m outside yelling for him.”
“Have a good day, Luke.”
“You, too, Megan.”
I step outside and look around for my brother.The bastard probably saw me coming and hid from me.
I walk to the back of the house and notice the open shed door. Chase comes out of it as I get close.
“Oh, hell,” he says, trying not to smile. “You meant it when you said you’d be here this morning. I was hoping you were drinking or something.”
“What are you working on?” I ask, nodding to a piece of wood in his hand.
“I’m trying to level a table Megan bought at a flea market last weekend. What about you? What are you working on?”
We walk side by side to a picnic table with a deep, almost purple table on top.
“Looks old,” I say.
“Megan says it’s an antique, but she thinks everything before the eighties is an antique. I told her the shops slap the wordantiqueon shit so people buy it for high prices and feel good about it.”
“And this is why I’m here.”
Chase gives me a look like our dad does when he doesn’t follow along.
I sigh. “I’m here for your asshole logic.”
“What?”
“This might sound bad,” I say, wincing. “But just hear me out and take the point of what I’m saying and not necessarily the words.”
