Iscroll up, rereading all of the other text messages Lukas and I have sent over the last few months. Well, that I have sent, I should say, because most of my messages go unanswered. Or he will promise to call, but doesn’t. Then there are the messages that come after a night of drinking. Sometimes, they’re garbled voicemails, mostly slurred words trying to tell me what he’s thinking.
Sometimes, they’re streams of misspelled text messages, and I spend the mornings sipping my coffee and trying to decipher what he meant to say.
I thought the deployment was hard. I thought that thousands of miles between us and limited technology was going to be the hardest part of our relationship. Silly me thought that once hewas done, life would fall back in place and we’d pick up right where we left off before he went to boot camp.
But the Lukas that came back from overseas isn’t a man I recognize. He’s loud. Angry. He drinks until he’s stupid, and that’s the only time he seems to want to call. If I do catch him sober, he’s somber, uncertain of what to say, and I can’t figure out which version of him scares me more.
I swipe at a lone tear that breaks free, catching it as it runs down my cheek. I was a stupid, stupid girl to expect everything to go back to normal. But never in my wildest dreams did I expectthis. I didn’t expect him to make excuses on why he can’t come visit me, or why I can’t go to him. He didn’t go back to Iowa to see his family, either. In typical Lukas fashion, he’s pushing all of us away. Except this time, I can’t seem to get through to him, and itterrifiesme.
I can categorize my life in two segments, the before and after. The before—when I was a child, before I met Lukas, and after meeting him. The memories before him are fuzzy. I have a few fond memories of birthday parties and Christmas and running around the yard at our old house. But the day I met Lukas, it was like … like a part of me was born.
There’s the part that’s holding onto him so tightly it hurts because of how much I love him. But there’s also a smaller part that is terrified to let go, because he’s all I know. Every memory I have for the last seventeen years is tinged with Lukas. Stained with his smile, his smell, his sleepy morning voice. The way it felt to be dancing on stage knowing he was in the audience. The way I’d fall asleep while he massaged my aching feet. The way he’d hug me when he was scared, how he’d bury his face into my chest and neck because he didn’t want me to see him cry. The way his head would fall back, throat bobbing when he laughed.
Lukas:
Sorry, tonight isn’t good. Extra training going on. Talk tomorrow?
I toss my phone on the table and it bumps my coffee cup, brown liquid sloshing over the side and splashing on the screen. Tears burn my eyes, and I shake my head to no one, wondering when it became so easy for him to lie to me.
Letting go of Lukas would mean letting go of all of those parts of me that I know so well. And as much as I don’t know the person he’s turned into, I’m terrified to meet the person I’d become without him.
CHAPTER 33
Magnolia
“How is your foot feeling? Do you want to take it from the assemblé?” Raymond stands with his hands on his hips, chest heaving in and out. A bead of sweat drips from his forehead, and I reach for a towel, tossing it at him as I grab one for myself.
“Foot is holding up. I’d like to do it at least once more, if that’s alright with you.” Dabbing the sweat from my face and chest, I toss the towel on my bag and reach for my bottle of water. With a spin of the cap, I bring the bottle to my lips, hands trembling.
“You know I’ll help you out anyway I can, girl, but look at you.” When I turn to face him, he nods to my shaking hands. “You just got cleared to dance again, there’s no need to rush back into it.”
I playfully roll my eyes at him as I cap my water, tossing the bottle next to my sweat-soaked towel. “I know you like to play the big brother card to all of us, but I promise, I feel fine.” Looking over his shoulder, my eyes glance up to check the time. Through the sweat and exhaustion, I can barely make out the blurry face of the clock, telling me it’s nearly two in the morning. “Shit. Is Ronaldo going to be mad that you’re out this late?”
Raymond cocks a hip at that. “Just because we’re married now, do you think that means I’m suddenly going to let a man tell me what to do?”
I giggle at that, pointing to the music player in the corner. “Then get your tush over there and restart with me on the staccato footwork.”
He sticks out his tongue at me, and I’m about to spin to stand a few paces away from the mirror when the faint ring of a phone sounds through the music.
“Uh, oh, speak of the devil,” I tease, arching my arms above my head in fifth position, but Raymond grabs his phone, showing me the black screen.
“It’s not mine.”
I rush to my bag, rifling through it to pull out my phone, my heart only sinking a notch when I see it’s Lukas.
“Lukas,” I answer a little breathlessly.
“Who else would it be?” he barks, and my entire body tenses with fear. I hate when he calls like this. Either drunk or angry, usually both, and I’m the one left to deal with it.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised you’re calling so late.”
“I’m surprised you’re awake. I was just going to leave a voicemail.”
“Oh…” I pause, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. Raymond stops the music and comes over to stand next to me. I briefly turn to face him, and the look on his face is one I’ve seen many times before—a little pity, mixed with confusion.
“Everything okay?” Raymond whispers, and I force a smile, nodding politely to him.
“Who the fuck is there?” Lukas snaps, and I inhale sharply through my nose. He’s drunk again, and the drunk version of Lukas is someone I don’t like.
