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He wasn’t singing.
Luke was objectively an awful singer. To say he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket was being generous. But he normally sang anyway, so the silence was unnerving. I knocked on the door. “Luke?”
He didn’t answer, and I wasn’t stupid enough to knock twice.
I was still trying to reassure myself that I was doing the right thing when Luke emerged from the bathroom naked, and the sight of all that damp skin had me seriously reconsidering my stance for a hot second. But no. No matter how great the sex was, I didn’t want or need a repeat of the Kevin experience.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just—”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Luke kept his back turned to me as he pulled on his underwear. “But now I can make it up and down the stairs, you probably don’t need to stay. I don’t wanna inconvenience you.”
Ouch.
“As long as you’re sure. If you want me to stay for a few more days, I can do that.” I kept my voice steady.
Luke pulled on a pair of jeans then turned to face me, his expression tight. “I think I have it from here.”
Okay then.
Even though we hadn’t technically been a couple, I couldn’t help feeling like I’d been dumped—which made zero sense, but still. This felt like every bad breakup I’d ever had, right down to the part where I moved all my stuff out—except this time, it was all on me. I was the one who’d turned Luke down.
It didn’t take me long to pack my things. Luke had disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, so it felt less like he was waiting to evict me, but it was still awkward.
I threw my bag over my shoulder and went out into the living area where Luke was staring at the pictures flickering across the TV screen with the sound turned off.
“I guess I’ll go.”
He nodded, eyes never leaving the screen.
I made it all the way to the front door before I felt compelled to say, “I’d like to get in a few more training sessions if that’s okay, just to make sure the muscle memory is locked in.”
Luke lifted an eyebrow. “Gotta keep that one hundred percent success rate, huh?”
That stung.
“That, and I don’t want you falling off a ladder and suing me,” I said, trying to ease the tension that was thick between us.
That got me the ghost of a smile. “Fine. Tomorrow morning at the agility course?”
“See you at seven.” And then, because there didn’t seem to be anything else to say, I left.
“Man, you look like someone ran over your cat,” Dylan said when I walked in the door of our house.
“I’m fine,” I lied, “and I don’t have a cat.”
He rolled his eyes, settling back on the battered recliner that lived in the corner of the living room. “You don’t look fine. What happened, you finally had a client you couldn’t help?”
It was a fair assumption because Dylan only knew that I’d gone to stay with a client. I’d kept the details of Luke’s crunchy leaf therapy to myself.
I shook my head. “Actually, we got him successfully navigating stairs, so he doesn’t need me there anymore.”
“Awesome! So why do you look like”—he gestured up and down—“that?”
“I don’t look like anything. I’ve just had a big day. We worked out a lot.”
I could feel Dylan’s silent appraisal, and I found myself holding my breath and hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions.
He gave a slow nod. “If you say so. There’s lasagna there if you want it.”
