Page 93 of Promise Me Nothing
I nod. “Yeah.”
“You left pretty quickly.”
To be honest, I’m surprised he noticed I left at all.
After he and Wyatt argued, Lucas returned to his table and started doing shots. Within a half hour, he was pretty hammered, so I left.
“I’m surprised you noticed,” I mumble, then cringe, instantly regretting it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I…”
“Hannah, it’s okay. I deserve that.” He sighs, sets his mug down on my nightstand and rubs the stubble growing on his face. “I wanted you to come out last night and then I got into it with Wyatt and got drunk. I should have paid more attention to you.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to coddle me, okay? I really was just tired and I figured if you were going to be busy, it would just be better if I went home.”
“Well, I’m glad you got home okay. You took an Uber or something?”
I reach over and set my mug of untouched coffee on the nightstand. “No. I walked back to the pier and got my bike and then rode home.”
Lucas’ expression morphs into a scowl. “You did what?”
Reading his sudden anger, I stay silent.
“Don’teverdo that again. The pier is not safe after midnight. Anyone still lurking around is either plastered at one of the bars or homeless.”
Then it’s my turn to glower. “You know, homeless people aren’t usually dangerous, and saying stuff like that doesn’t help.”
His expression softens. “Hannah…”
“Did I tell you that I lived in a homeless shelter for a year?”
Lucas grits his jaw and looks down at his hands.
“When I was fifteen, I was assaulted by one of my foster dads. When I got relocated to a new home, one of the girls there made my life a living hell, so I alternated between sleeping at a shelter, crashing on the back porch at my friend Sienna’s and using the hammocks at the YMCA. That’s the year everyone started calling me Homeless Hannah.”
When he looks up at me, I can’t read his expression. But Icantell that he’s pained by what he hears. This isn’t simple empathy, or commiserating about a troubled past.
Lucas is upset.
“You never know what someone’s circumstances are, and assuming the worst won’t ever get you anywhere you want to be.”
He lets out a sigh and twists his hands together. “I’m sorry you went through that.”
“It’s not your fault, Lucas. It’s just life.”
He gives a small shake of his head, though he stays silent.
I feel bad for continuing to share little bits of my life with Lucas. It clearly upsets him on a much deeper level than I was expecting. Sometimes I wonder if I should lie about my past. Make it sound fluffier, more filled with fun times and not so riddled with pain.
But then I think about the girl who had to go through those experiences, the younger me, who felt like she never had a voice, and I just can’t give in to society’s expectation that she stays silent.
So if a moment comes up where something painful needs to be talked about? I need to do it.
For her.
“I have to work today. But do you want to come meet me after my shift? We could do another bike ride or something.”
Lucas wrinkles his nose. “I’m surfing in a charity event for the holiday weekend,” he says. “That’s what I was coming to tell you. I have to drive up to Malibu with Otto. I’m leaving at around noon and I’ll be back Tuesday morning.”
“Oh,” I say, my shoulders dropping even as I try to hide my disappointment. “Okay.”
