Page 73 of Confession
“Why are you surprised? Your cooking is great.” I dunk the biscotti again.
“Baking maybe. Some of the cooking is hard.”
“I’ll keep teaching you. I mean, if you want. You don’t have to, you know.”
Vitali says that to me all the time. I often get annoyed, but saying it now to Lucas, I get it. I don’t want Lucas to feel like he has to serve to be here. I suddenly appreciate that Vitali has always said it to me.
“I know,” Lucas tells me. “And yes. Please. I like when you teach me.”
It’s strange how everything feels so different in this house now. Not wrong, just different. Or like maybe I see it differently?
Or maybe I see myselfin itdifferently.
I shift over a few inches so Lucas can get to the coffeepot, which is where I think he was headed before he spotted me and detoured to the cookie jar. He’s standing close to me, and it’s weirdly nice. He’s like a younger brother, like the family I wish I’d had. The family, I realize, that Idohave. Now.
He glances at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I scoot along the counter away from him, suddenly self-conscious.
If Lucas were to say anything to me right now, I would probably close up. I’m trying, I really am, but this shit is hard for me.
Lucas, however, doesn’t say anything. He’s so damn intuitive and so used to nonverbal communication that there’s no hiding from him. It would be terrifying if he weren’t so fucking gentle.
He lays his hand on my arm, well above the burn scar, and smiles softly without looking at me.
“What the hell?”
At Vitali’s voice in the doorway, I look up. Lucas jumps, jerking away from me.
Vitali, wearing only a pair of black warmups, comes stalking in, scowling. “Where have you been? Where did you go? Why did you leave?”
I stay where I am and don’t answer any of those absurd questions, but Lucas starts to back away.
“I’ll just—”
Vitali points a finger at him. “No.” The finger swings to me. “He’s in trouble.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
When Lucas starts sidestepping away, I say, “You don’t have to leave just because he woke up in a shitty mood.”
Lucas raises an eyebrow. “Except you and I both know exactly how these things end.”
I choke on a laugh at his reminder of what I once had to witness in this kitchen.
“What?” Vitali demands. “What is he talking about?”
“Nothing,” I reply. I’m not about to tell him.
“That’s clearly not nothing—Lucas! Stop! What did you mean—”
“Quinn can tell you. I have to go!”
He fucking bolts, and I can’t help it, I laugh.
Vitali crowds right into me. “What was he talking about? And why did you leave?”
