Chapter Eight

Eight

Lucas

When I pick Shawn up for dinner, he’s back in a T-shirt and ripped jeans, and he looks so fucking perfect that I want to push him back into his hotel room and fuck him senseless. Instead, I clear my throat and ask, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” He gives me a shy smile before following me out of the hotel. “How was work?”

“Good. Got a bit of a sunburn, but the money makes it worth it.”

“Oh, god, I feel that. Some couple hired me once to do their engagement photos, and they wanted them taken while they were having sex.”

I pull open the door to my car but pause to look over the roof at him. “Arey you serious?”

“Yeah. Fortunately, I managed to talk them out of it when I told them their parents would see the photos.”

“Wow. You think a photographer would have tamer stories about their job.”

Shawn gets in the car and pulls his seatbelt on. “Most of them are. Some just think that sending nude photos as their engagement pictures is classy and unique.”

I pull out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. “What about the couple you’re working with now? You like them?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re great. They’re really fun and down to earth.”

“I’m glad you got into a job you really like.”

“Thanks.” His voice goes quiet, and he turns his gaze out the window. “It’s definitely better than some of the other jobs I worked.”

“Like what?”

He doesn’t respond, and an uncomfortable silence settles in the car. I don’t pressure him to say anything. He’ll either tell me or he’ll change the subject, and I’ll be fine with either.

Finally, he says softly, “I slept with some people for cash. But I don’t really want to talk about it.”

My throat constricts, and I do my best to keep my focus solely on the road instead of looking at Shawn like I desperately want to. I’d thought maybe he’d done something like that when he first came to live with us, but hearing him say it now breaks my heart.

“I’m sorry if that’s weird for you,” he mumbles.

“It’s not.” I reach over and take his hand. “It’s not. I promise.”

“I—” Shawn stops as I park the car at the curb of my parents’ house. Then he turns to face me, his eyes wide. “What are we doing here?”

“Going to dinner. I told you that.” I try to push as much innocence into my voice as I can, but I’m not sure it works.

“You didn’t say anything about it being dinner with your parents.” Shawn shakes his head. “They probably hate me. If you were pissed at me, there’s no way they aren’t.”

“Just relax. Mom’s the one who invited you, okay? She wants to see you again.” I wait because if he really wants to leave, I’ll take him back.

His jaw clenches and for a minute, he looks just like he did when we were teens and he got angry about something. He was always so careful with that emotion, as if he was afraid he would fly into a rage one day and be unable to talk himself down.

Just like back then, he closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. When he speaks, his voice is just a little too even. “You should have told me we were going to see them.”

“I—”

“I don’t want an excuse,” Shawn interrupts, opening his eyes to look at me. “You knew I wouldn’t agree to this so you tricked me into it.”

I want to argue with him, but he’s right, so I just keep my mouth shut. The only reason I brought him here is because Mom wanted me to. I have a hard time saying no to either of my parents after what we survived together. And I’m pretty sure they feel the same about me.

“They don’t hate you,” I say instead. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where we were going.”

The muscle in his jaw keeps working, but eventually he says, “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

I get out of the car and round the front of it to walk to the porch with Shawn. His hands are clenched at his sides, and he glances around a couple times, like he’s thinking about making a break for it. I’m trying to decide if I’d chase him down this time when the door opens and Mom appears.

Her face breaks out into a huge smile when she lays eyes on who I brought with me. “Shawn! It’s so good to see you. Come in, come in.”

He steps carefully into the house, like he’s afraid someone’s waiting on the other side of the door to hurt him. As soon as he’s crossed the threshold, Mom pulls him into a tight hug. His entire body stiffens—something else that used to happen when he lived with us. I don’t think he ever got used to me or Mom hugging him, but he did with Natalie. Dad never tried.

When Mom pulls away, she rests her hand on his cheek. “We’ve missed you.”

He gives her a tight smile and slides out of her grasp easily. “I missed you too. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything. Lucas didn’t warn me that we were coming here until it was too late.”

She waves her hand. “You didn’t need to bring anything. We just wanted to see you again.”

He glances at me over her shoulder, and guilt pinches my chest at the discomfort in his eyes. I should’ve warned him. I should’ve given him the option to not come if he didn’t want to. What the hell was I thinking?

Dad appears in the entrance to the kitchen, another glass of scotch in his hand. “Shawn.”

Shawn’s shoulders tense immediately, but still he turns to give my father a stiff smile. “Mr. Miller. It’s good to see you again.”

“Yes, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Dad takes a sip from his glass as Mom moves around him to take the dish from out of the oven. “You know, social services had a field day with us, wanting to know where you were, why you’d run away.”

“Dad.” Irritation flares to life in my veins. I hate that he’s bringing that up. I knew Dad was still upset about everything that had happened, but who the hell says something like that?

“I’m sorry,” Shawn says when Dad doesn’t even look at me. “I didn’t realize they would do that.”

“Would that have stopped you?” Dad presses.

“No.” His voice is cool, indifferent. Like it was when he first came to live with us. “It was time for me to leave.”

“Yeah, it’s no wonder you got a job where you can just disappear whenever you want to.”

I open my mouth to tell Dad to back off, but Shawn speaks before I get the chance to.

“I’m going to see if she needs any help in the kitchen.” Shawn moves around me to leave the room without even looking in my direction again.

“What the hell was that?” I demand of Dad as soon as Shawn’s gone.

“What? I was asking him questions.”

“You didn’t have to be such an ass about it.” Maybe I’m just sensitive from what Shawn just told me in the car, but the way Dad’s talking about him is grating me.

“Watch it,” Dad snaps, his hand tightening around his glass. “Shawn is a grown man; he should be able to handle an honest conversation.”

I fight back my urge to argue. This is about Natalie. Anytime Dad gets this heated, it’s about my sister. We both know Shawn had nothing to do with her death, but it’s still hovering over us. Between us.

“You know he didn’t do anything wrong by leaving.” I remember the visits after the social workers found out Shawn had run away, but it wasn’t a field day like Dad said. They actually weren’t surprised at all. Apparently, Shawn had run away from every other home they’d put him in. He’d lasted the longest in ours.

Dad shakes his head but doesn’t fight me. He drains the last of his scotch and places the glass on the bar. Then he asks, “What’re you doing with him anyway?”

“I told you. I ran into him.”

“Don’t give me that. You guys are looking at each other the same way you did when he lived here eight years ago.”

I jerk my gaze from the entrance of the kitchen back to my dad to find him watching me. I’d thought Shawn and I had been careful, to the point where no one else knew about what we were doing late at night.

“What?” Dad asks when I look at him. “You think I didn’t know? You were living here, for God’s sake, Lucas. Of course I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

At this, he finally softens, his eyes turning gentle. “Because…because he wasn’t a bad kid. You were happy with him. And I knew you were being safe because you used my credit card at the pharmacy.”

Embarrassment floods my face in a wave of heat. “Oh my god, Dad.”

He laughs a little, even though the sound is sad. “You were the one who did it.” He sobers and moves closer to put an arm around my shoulders. “You have to understand, when Shawn left, he didn’t just hurt my one child. He hurt both of you. And that’s what gets to me.”

I guess when he puts it that way, I understand it a little more. I still wish he’d look beyond that and realize that what happened to Natlie isn’t the reason Shawn left in the first place. But if I can’t figure out the true reason why how am I supposed to expect my dad to do it?