Page 8 of Promise Me Nothing
But seeing him now, in-person, as he walks towards me with an expression that reminds me of the man who used to tuck me in at night when I was a little girl…
It’s a hard pill to swallow.
“Hannah?”
He says my name again and I manage to finally give him a little bit of a grin and a half wave from where I sit on the ground, sprawled out with my few belongings.
I must look absolutely ridiculous.
“Ye… Yeah. Yeah, that’s me,” I say, my throat choking on the words. I scramble to my feet, dusting my hands off on my shorts, then stick a hand out to him. “Lucas, right? Nice to meet you.”
He grins at me, an easy smile full of a sincerity that surprises me. And then he does the last thing I expect.
He steps forward and pulls me into a hug.
A tight one. The type of hug you expect to get from people who love you. The type of hug I haven’t felt in quite a while. Since the last time I saw Joshua.
Not knowing exactly what to do with myself, I stand there stiffly, finally raising my forearms so I can give him a light tap on the back.
He chuckles, then steps away.
“Not really a hugger, huh?”
I lift a shoulder, giving him a small smile. “It’s been a while, I guess.”
His face falls slightly. “Since you’ve been hugged?”
I nod.
His expression stays confused. But I don’t offer him any more than that. Besides, I’m sure the last thing he wants to hear when he’s first meeting the sister he never knew about is the nitty-gritty of what happens in the system.
It’s not even something I want to hear, and I’m the one who lived through it.
I lug my backpack over my shoulder, using it as an excuse to look away from him. This causes him to spring in to action, reaching over to grab the duffle that’s resting at my feet.
“So, is this all you brought?” he asks, walking us towards his swanky blue truck, which sits still running at the curb.
“It’s all I own.”
He chucks my duffle into the back with a little more force than I’m expecting, then plants both hands along the rim of the bed and lets out an exhale, his shoulders tight.
Then he turns and looks back at me, and gives me a smile. “You know, I heard being a minimalist is pretty freeing. Maybe I can learn something from you.” Then he pops open the passenger door for me and rounds the front to climb in to the driver’s seat.
I don’t have the heart to tell him that I’ve never been a minimalist, so I keep my mouth shut and just get in.
“Sorry I’m so late,” he says, giving me that same comfortable smile as we pull out onto the road. “Traffic was horrible.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say, not wanting to focus on his tardiness. The last thing I want to do is make him feel bad when he’s going out of his way to pick me up. “I wasn’t waiting that long.”
He makes a light humming sound. Not an agreement, just an acknowledgement.
“So how was the trip? It was like, eight hours or something, right?”
I let out a sigh. “A little over seven. And it was exhausting. I haven’t sat in one place for that long before.”
“Well, I’ll try to get you back to the house as quickly as possible so you aren’t sitting for too much longer,” he says. Then his eyes drop to my shirt. “And once we get there, I’ll see if I have a better shirt for you to wear.”
My eyes drop, taking in the Diamondback shirt. “Huh?”
