‘A bold claim.’
‘A sacred one out here.’
I let out a quiet laugh.It feels like the first real exhale I’ve had in hours.
Lauren leans her hip against the counter.‘Ella said you flew up here to help with Daisy.’
I shrug.‘I’m not sure I’ve been much help to be honest.Feels like I’m kind of in the way sometimes.’
Lauren chuckles.‘Ella talks about you and Abbey all the time.She’s probably just happy you make the effort to visit.It can feel pretty isolating out here otherwise.’
My mind travels to the man outside as I murmur, ‘I can only imagine.’
Lauren watches me for a beat as if assessing me, then her expression softens.‘Luke’s not great at asking for help.’
I can’t help looking over her shoulder towards the lone figure outside.
‘He likes to think he’s the guy who can fix everything himself.Fences.People.Grief.It’s exhausting to watch.’
‘You care about him.’
She nods and gives me a warm smile.‘Of course I do.He’s practically family.You on the other hand …’
I raise an eyebrow, bracing myself.‘Me?’
‘He’s different around you.More annoying and antagonistic, obviously, but also … more relaxed.Like he forgets to be responsible for a second.’
My throat tightens unexpectedly.
Lauren shifts, brushing a stray curl off her face.‘Just … take care of him, okay?’
It’s not a suggestion.It’s not even really a goodbye.It’s a warning.A passing of a torch she doesn’t want to carry.
I don’t respond.Not because I don’t want to – because I don’t know how to.
She picks up her keys again, then glances towards the front door.‘I’ve gotta get home before my sister decides to cut her own fringe again.But it was good to see you.’She says it like she means it.
‘You too.’
She smiles again, then disappears out the door, leaving behind the faint scent of lemon and coconut slice.
TWENTY-ONE
I stare out the window above the kitchen sink for ages.The sky is fully black now, the porch light humming outside.Luke hasn’t moved.He’s still sitting on the weathered bench, legs spread, back hunched slightly forward.
I’ve folded the tea towel six times now.Every part of me wants to retreat.Curl up on the couch, fake a yawn, maybe scroll through old emails to pretend I’m a person with a plan.
Instead, something traitorous pulls me forward.
Not just my feet – my body.As if I’ve been possessed by the ghost of a girl I used to be.A girl who believed being needed was enough.A girl who walked towards complicated men as if they were lifeboats, even when there were clearly holes in the hull.
I slide the screen door open before I realise what I’m doing.It creaks, and the chill night air touches my bare legs.
Luke doesn’t turn.He keeps staring into the dark, towards the tree that rained pink flowers over the place where they buried his father, two headstones side by side.
‘Hey,’ I say, stupidly.
He doesn’t respond.Doesn’t flinch.
