17. Jase

Ilook at the bottle in my hand, narrowing my eyes at the label. "This water tastes weird."

Lucas twists off the cap of his own bottle. "It's alkaline water."

"What the fuck does that mean? Is it like, the same shit they use in batteries?"

He stifles a snort. "No, it's the health alternative to just plain water. It has lots of health benefits like enhanced hydration, improved bone health, reduction of high blood pressure and blood sugar, increased longevity?—"

And that's exactly where my mind trips to a screeching stop.

I bite back the comment on the tip of my tongue about his increased longevity because while I know he means from an athletic standpoint, I can't help but think about the dirty things he can do for a lot longer because of this alkaline crap. And those all need to remain locked up in my lust-fogged brain.

"Don't you have just a plain bottle of Poland Spring?" I sit back in the chair, forcing my mind in a different direction. "Actually, I have a different question. Do you even have a single bag of potato chips here? Or cookies?"

"Baked quinoa chips and gluten-free cookies," Ella says, sailing into the kitchen to pick up an iPad on one of the countertops.

I make a gagging noise. She grabs her iPad and spins around to face me. "Based on the way you've been playing, maybe you should reconsider all of the processed foods you eat and go for some healthy alternatives."

"Ella," Lucas hisses.

She turns a wide-eyed stare at him. "What? It's true. And it's never too late to start taking better care of ourselves." With a critical look at me, her lips curl upward. "Our bodies are temples, Jase. And your body makes you a whole lot of money, so take care of it."

Then she walks out of the room without a glance back.

"Wow, she's really pissed at me, huh?" I put the bottle of water-ish stuff on the table in front of me.

"She's the nurturer." Lucas's lips lift. "She kind of took on that role after my parents died to mother Nick since he was lost for a while afterward. She's even more obsessive about the healthy eating than me." He shrugs and plays with the plastic label on the bottle. "The school psychologist says it's part of her quest for control, the obsession with food and health, like she can help us somehow beat sickness and death because of it. And she needs to know she's doing everything she can to protect us because deep down she knows she can't prevent other things from happening."

"Like accidents." I nod my head. "I get it. Poor kid. She's too young to have to deal with all that."

"And I just gave her more to worry about." Lucas runs a hand through his hair and tugs on it. When he lets it go, it looks messy, different than his normally combed-back, well-groomed look.

Makes him look edgy and unhinged.

Sexy as fuck.

"It's my fault she had to deal with that," I say in a low voice. "Is there anything I can do to help? You want me to talk to that woman?"

"She's not going to listen to you." He lets out a snide laugh. "She barely acknowledged anything I said to her."

"Do you, um, mind if I asked what happened?" I crack the knuckles of one hand under the table, a habit I picked up to relax me when I'm tense.

Like now.

I want to know because I want him to believe that I care about more than just myself. I'd like for at least one person out there to believe that.

Lucas stays quiet and stares at his bottle.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep. I shouldn't have asked."

He shakes his head. "No, it's okay. I guess I've wanted to talk to someone about it for a while now, someone who's not involved." He raises his eyes and my heart clenches at the pain in his gaze. "I mean, Krista knows everything because she's with the kids so much, but it's not the same. She's a friend, but out of circumstance. I don't really have a friend who knows the truth about what happened."

Friend.

Does he think we're friends?

Do I think we're friends?

Fuck, can I even handle that?

I feel like I opened up way too much at lunch today, and now I'm inviting him in even deeper. It's dark and murky down there, and if he dips his toe in, I might snatch him away forever.

Something in his tone tells me he's not scared.

But I'm fucking shaking in my goddamn boots at the thought.

Before I can cut and run, because that's what my mind is screaming at me to do, he loosens his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt.

I didn't bother with a tie today, another reason why Hoffman probably wanted to throttle me.

My mouth goes dry at the sight of Lucas not looking like his usual starched, groomed, and polished self.

I'd be very happy to rumple him up some more.

And suddenly the thought of darting out of here makes my gut wrench.

Friends.

It may be the only thing I can have and fuck yeah, I wanna take it.

"I'd been out at football practice." His shoulders slump forward. He rests his elbows on the table and leans his head into his hands. "The kids were watching television. Practice ran late. I was driving down my street and saw a thick cloud of smoke up ahead. The smell was pretty strong, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from."

He pauses and shifts on the chair, caught in that horrific moment again. "I got farther down the block and saw it was coming from my house. I don't even remember stopping the car and jumping out. But I remember when I opened the front door that the smoke almost knocked me out, it was that harsh and powerful."

I swallow hard and lean closer.

"I panicked, screaming for my parents and the kids. There were sirens in the distance so I knew help was on the way. But I couldn't find anyone. I covered my face and ran through the house. The kids were too afraid to move, so I grabbed them and got them outside." He scrubs his hands down the front of his face. "I have another brother. An older brother. Aaron. He was home, too."

Lucas grimaces, his voice dropping. "I yelled for him but he didn't answer. Then I found him in his room, high as fuck. My dad yelled that they were right behind us and I didn't look. I ended up dragging Aaron out and left him with Ella and Nick before running back in to help my parents."

He stops again, this time shaking his head. "Such a fucking waste," he mutters. "I fucked up."

"What happened?"

When he looks at me, I can see the glazed look in his eyes. The regret, the remorse, the guilt. Fuck, it's clear as day, and the only reason why I recognize it is because I've seen the same things in my own eyes when I look back at myself.

"They weren't behind me. I couldn't find them anywhere. I ran back up the stairs and my dad yelled that they couldn't get out. Beams from the ceiling started collapsing, crashing down and blocking my path. The flames were getting higher and I couldn't get past them. Windows blew out, glass flying all over the place. Then the stairs started to collapse."

"So you had to get out while you still could."

"I had no choice. If I stayed, I'd have died, too."

"Shit, I'm so sorry."

"I've never forgiven myself for it. I should have gotten them when I went for Aaron. His room was right there. But he was barely conscious…" He smacks the top of the table. The water bottle skitters away, almost tipping over from the sudden shake. "Fuck. And now…"

"Now what?" I ask even though a knot in my stomach tells me I shouldn't have.

"He's gone. Aaron. He's in and out, shows up when he needs something. Pulled a disappearing act after the funerals. I laid into him pretty hard because he was so doped up that day. He got pissed off and we didn't see him for eight months afterward. I think that…" His strained voice trails off and he waves his hand in front of his face, almost to ward off whatever thought was on the tip of his tongue.

"Whatever with him. Anyway, I'm the caregiver, the one who's supposed to be responsible. Nobody else can get me out of this mess. I put myself here. It's my job to get myself out."

"I told you to walk away." My gaze clings to his, searching for a glimmer of a reason why he hasn't kicked me out of here yet, especially after what I did at that press conference.

Gold flecks glow like little candle flames in the center of his eyes. "And I told you I'd never do that."

I let out a deep sigh. "I didn't know your deal. Had no idea that you did all this."

"Nobody does. It's nobody's business but mine anyway. I try to keep my private life out of the spotlight. The kids have had enough to deal with, you know, with me being gay and all. Kids can be assholes about that stuff. I don't need them to have any more of a burden to carry because of me." He rubs the back of his head and I just sit there, feeling like complete shit because even though I was trying to do the right thing for him and Kyle, it all backfired on both of us.

Goddammit. Lucas was innocent and ended up getting dragged into my battle because he's a good guy who thinks about others.

I guess I just never got that before.

But I'm trying to now because it's the only way for me to even come close to making it up to him.

After taking a long gulp of his shitty alkaline water, Lucas stands up and starts loading plates into the dishwasher. His back is stiff and now he won't even look at me.

I stand up once the heavy silence becomes so deafening, the white noise ringing in my ears makes my head damn close to exploding. Gripping the edge of the table with one hand, I choke on my words. There's so much I want to say that I can't, so much I want to do, but it's time to face facts. I've done enough, none of it good.

Lucas obviously needs some time, to himself, with his family. Having me here is just a glaring reminder of what I caused. And I need to figure out a way to fix it… far away from him.

I stare down at my shoes, my hair falling over my eyes. "Look, I don't want to take up any more of your time. I know you've got your hands full and I'm sure you don't need me hanging around?—"

He drops the sponge and dish into the soapy water and turns his head toward me. "You're leaving?"

The tone of his voice jars me and my head snaps back up. Lucas stares at me, eyebrows furrowed. He wipes his hands on a towel and takes a few steps across the kitchen floor, just enough to make the tension hanging over us so thick, it's about to choke me.

My lips part to answer him but I can't force out the words that are lodged at the back of my throat like a lump that just won't dissolve.

Because I really don't want to go.

He inches closer still, his penetrating gaze rooting me to the spot. I swallow hard when he reaches out a hand and grazes my arm.

He doesn't want me to leave, either.

A fierce and fiery sensation explodes as his fingertips dance over my skin. My heart hammers, every cell and nerve on high alert.

But I know I don't deserve to stay.