“When I was seventeen, I indulged in six months of stupidity,” I admit. “But rehab sorted me out. I haven’t touched drugs, haven’t wanted to, since then.”
That gets their full attention. Seconds pass as they absorb my words. Confronted with their silence, I begin to regret my openness.
And then Leo says, “It was courageous of you to share that with us, Justin. I appreciate your honesty.”
He says it with such compassion my chest tightens with unwanted emotion. I’ve been called courageous once before, by my father for rescuing two malnourished donkeys from a brickworks where they were blindfolded and forced to walk in endless circles turning the wheel that mixed mud and straw for bricks.
I’ve never been commended for opening up my heart.
Lynn offers me an encouraging smile. “It must have been an incredibly difficult time for you.”
What an understatement. Rehab was pure hell, where there lurked plenty of demons to fight. I clear my throat, try to clear my mind of the memories. “Yeah, it was a rough time.”
“Ah, Heather, there you are,” Lynn says.
Heather is wearing jeans and a T-shirt that do little to hide her hour-glass curves. The strap of a white bra peeks out at one shoulder. Her hair is in a loose ponytail, stray pieces framing her face. Pleasure courses through me at the sight of her.
The moment she sees me shock widens her eyes and her cheeks redden. The flustered look on her is endearing.
I push to my feet, keeping my gaze on her face. “Hi, Heather.”
“Justin,” she manages. “What are you doing here?”
I offer her an easy smile. “Visiting you. You had a rough day at work. I thought we could grab a coffee and talk about it.” I stick as close to the truth as possible, guessing she’d want to minimize the amount of lying she has to do.
“Oh, honey, I thought something was wrong when you came home,” Lynn says in concern. “You looked so down.” She aims a grateful smile my way. “Isn’t it sweet of Justin to think of you?”
“So sweet,” Heather says from between clenched teeth.
“Do you want to talk to us about it?” Leo asks Heather.
I stiffen, watching as Heather dredges up a smile for her father, a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes.
“You know how much I love animals, Dad. It’s just hard sometimes seeing them in cages and putting them through some of the procedures.”
Leo crosses the room and envelops her in a hug. “At least you’re there to love and comfort them. And when you come home we’re here to love and comfort you.”
I can’t tear my gaze away from their picture of family affection, feeling a little like a kid peeking into a shop window to look at a display I can’t afford.
Anger bubbles up inside me. I’m not a kid anymore, I tell myself harshly. I don’t want—I don’t need—what Heather has in such abundance.
Leo draws back, studying his daughter. “Are you up for going out with Justin tonight?”
“I’ll be okay,” she assures him. “Getting out might do me some good.”
Her father nods, and I wonder if I’m the only one who hears the lie in her voice.
57
JUSTIN
––––––––
Heather’s parents stand in the middle of the driveway, her dad frowning, her mom with her hand clapped over her heart. Lynn asked three times if Heather’s helmet was on correctly. Leo has lapped the bike who knows how many times, as if hoping it will magically transform itself into a car. I’ve never met parents who worry so much.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Lynn asks worriedly.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Heather reassures her.
