Page 124 of Just a Little White Lie

How do I make him see?

Slamming the door, I run up the back steps and into the house. My emotions are playing an energetic match of tennis. I’m swaying between irritation and a desperate need to see him. I don’t like being at odds with my boyfriend. I want to find him and kiss him and put this whole thing behind us.

If I can render Helen Kwan speechless then surely I can talk my boyfriend around.

I want to tell him that I do need him. I love him. I want him with me every step of the way!

“Hey, sis.” Luke’s sitting at the dining table, his laptop open and files strewn across the wooden surface.

“Where’s Jack?” I breeze through the kitchen, aiming for the hallway.

“He’s gone.”

My confident stride stutters to a stop, and I spin to face him. “Gone? What do you mean?”

“He left. For Auckland. Said he was spending a few nights with his family. Did he not tell you that?”

Luke’s confusion makes me flush.

My chest aches in a way it never has before, and I press my fingertips against my sternum and look down the hallway, hoping for a second that Luke’s wrong.

But he’s not.

My brother wouldn’t lie to me.

“Lauren? Are you okay?”

I try to hide my disappointment behind a bright smile, and I’m this close to saying, “Of course I am.”

But that would make me a liar. Just a little white liar, but still…

I really don’t want that label anymore.

And I told the truth to Helen, didn’t I? The least I can do is be honest with my brother.

Shuffling into the dining room, I yank out a chair and plunk into it. “No. I’m not. Jack didn’t tell me he was going to Auckland.”

“What’s happened?” Luke swivels his body to face me, obviously concerned and maybe a touch annoyed. I can see his brows dipping together and it nearly shuts me up.

But then I let out a ragged sigh. “We got into a fight about…” I point at my face, wince, and then tell Luke everything before he jumps to the wrong conclusions.

It’s kind of comical watching him process each new tidbit. His expression morphs from concern to protective indignation. A touch of sympathy is thrown into the mix, and I’m too upset to look at what his face is doing when I bring my sad tale to a close.

Well, sad and triumphant, I guess. Seems weird that I can feel both in the same heartbeat.

But then my shoulders slump, my heart yearning with one repeated need:I want Jack!

“Wow,” Luke finally murmurs.

Reaching for my hand, he rests his fingers over mine and gives them a little rub.

“I’m proud of you.”

“What?” I glance up. “Why?”

“Because you’re making good choices.” He’s not trying to be patronizing, but it’s borderline.

I frown and look away from him, wishing our dynamic could be different. He’s such an old soul, he feels more like a parent, and I really need to shift this paradigm between us.

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