Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
I can’t imagine the childhood he’s describing. Coming from a large family of people who cared, who were always in each other’s business, with parents who made sure we were safe, his description leaves me hollow inside, and that was just a bare-bones accounting of what he experienced.
I’m sure the little details were worse, but I hear the pain in his voice, and it resonates deep inside me. “I’m listening,” I say softly.
He draws a steadying breath. “I didn’t live in a great neighborhood and the kids I hung with weren’t good ones.”
When he dips his head, I know he’s ashamed of what he’s about to tell me, so I sit quietly and wait.
“It started with petty burglaries. I was only sixteen, so I’d drive while others went inside. Then, one night, I drove as they did a job, they called it. A home invasion in an upscale neighborhood, and they’d gotten out with expensive items to sell. They’d also been caught by the homeowner’s father, an older man they’d cold-cocked so they could escape.”
I stifle a gasp. “You were with them?” I can’t fathom Lucas being part of something violent.
He shakes his head. “In the car, which as you probably know, still makes me an accomplice.” He doesn’t meet my gaze. “It turned my stomach, and I couldn’t live with what had happened. I figure it was Jacinda and Matthew’s influence,” he says, speaking with warmth along with regret in his voice. “So, I told Matthew.”
“Your foster father.”
“Yes,” he says, and I’m happy to see him glance up and the light back in his eyes. The Carrases had adopted him, giving him the home and the true family he’d never had.
“What did he say?” I ask, leaning toward him, invested in the story. In Lucas.
He rubs his hands together and hesitates, obviously gathering his thoughts. “He insisted I go to the police and tell them what happened.”
“That couldn’t have been easy.” Not for a sixteen-year-old boy with loyalty, I think to myself.
“It wasn’t. It meant snitching, but I did it and they were arrested.” He draws another deep breath. “I had to testify against my friends.”
I shake my head at the situation he found himself in. “But were they really your friends?”
“No,” he admits. “But where I come from, you didn’t tell on anyone. Snitching was worse than any other crime I could have committed,” he explains.
“What happened?” I ask.
He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a hefty drink. “Well, Richie was fifteen and given community service to teach him a lesson. The driver, Benny, got six months. But the oldest, Trick, is Benny’s brother. He was the one who’d knocked out the old man. He was twenty-one, an adult, and had priors. Added to that, they found a gun stashed in his car and another in his pocket when they picked him up. He went away for a long while.”
I let out a whistle. “It sounds like he deserved the time he served.”
Lucas nods. “He did. And that phone call I just got was the Bureau of Prisons letting me know Trick is out.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry.” I wonder if there’s danger involved in the man’s release, but something keeps me from asking.
“With a little luck, I won’t run into him,” he mutters, and takes a sip, finishing off his drink. “Okay, so get back to Mak’s cocktails. You’re settled on all three?”
Taking the hint to change the subject, I refocus on the Thunder party. “I am. It’s like I said, I love them. Mak came up with great ideas and they taste delicious.”
“Perfect.”
An awkward silence settles between us, and I understand. He’d opened up to me and been vulnerable, and now? He probably needs to regain his equilibrium. If I’m feeling off-kilter after what I’d learned about his past, he must be experiencing the same emotions, not to mention being shaken up by the call.
The fun mood from earlier is long gone, and I sense it’s my time to leave.
I rise from my seat. “I should let you get back to work.” Or to his thoughts.
He nods. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You really don’t need to.” It doesn’t take a genius to know he wants time to process things, but his penetrating stare tells me he’s not giving me a choice.
“Okay, sure.” We make our way through the club. “Will you thank Mak again for me? I’m excited about her drinks. In fact, I’m going to do themed glasses with the Thunder logo and a 50th anniversary graphic.”
“Love that idea,” he says, then pushes open the door, and I step out.
My car is in the first spot out front, and we stop by the driver’s side door. Before I open it, I turn toward him. “I appreciate today, thanks.” I use my key fob to unlock the car.