Exactly As You Are (Love in Louisville #1)

Chapter 14

14

L ucas’s father lined up his drive. He pulled his club back over his shoulder then knocked a beautiful drive down the middle of the fairway.

“Nice shot.” Jacob gave their dad a fist bump.

“You boys can outdrive me in distance, but I can hit them right down the middle,” Greg said.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve still got it.” Lucas laughed when his dad made a face at him.

The three of them made their way up the path, the golf carts bumping and jostling them as they went. A train bellowed in the distance, interrupting the still silence of the golf course.

They spent the next few holes joking and laughing. Lucas started to feel relieved. Surely if something were wrong, he would have noticed it by now. Maybe Jacob was just worrying. Of the two of them, he tended to worry more.

“Who’s the lucky lady these days?” His dad shot a meaningful glance in his direction at one point.

“I’m single,” Lucas said. “Plan to stay that way for a bit, in fact.”

“Ah. I can’t see that lasting long. But good luck with it.”

That rankled a bit, honestly. Everyone kept reacting that way, like he couldn’t go for more than two weeks without a girlfriend. No one acted surprised when his relationships failed, either.

Jacob pulled a sour expression too, much to Lucas’s surprise, since his brother had accused him of something similar recently.

His dad struck up a conversation with the men in front of them when they had to wait on the tenth hole. Lucas and his dad were both known for that, for making friends everywhere they went.

Jacob turned to their father once they stood on the next green. “Are you having lunch with Mom after this?”

His dad paused as though considering his next words carefully. Lucas studied him. His heart ticked an extra beat while he waited for an answer.

“Not today,” he finally said.

What the hell?

His parents always made plans after they were done golfing on Saturdays, which happened about once a month. They liked spending time together. His dad loved hard, like Lucas did, and it was one of things he’d always wanted to emulate—just how much his parents loved each other. His father had made a terrible mistake once, but he had seemed contrite, and they’d gotten past it. He wondered if something was wrong again, but part of him didn’t want to know.

“Dad?” Apparently, Jacob had no such qualms about knowing. “What is it?”

Their father dropped his head to his chest.

“I wasn’t going to bring this up today,” he said. “But your mother and I are in counseling again.”

The news hit Lucas like a boulder to his chest. He could almost hear ringing in his ears. “What happened?” He planted his driver in the grass. He knew they were holding up the players behind him, but he needed a moment.

“I don’t want to get into all the details here.” His dad waved a hand as though swatting away an errant fly, like Lucas’s concern was silly.

Lucas didn’t get angry often, but it rose up in him then, swallowing some of his better judgment. Maybe his parents didn’t owe him any explanation, but if his dad had been unfaithful again, he couldn’t help how he felt about it. He didn’t think his dad would do that, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed plausible.

“Well, that’s convenient, then, don’t you think? You aren’t in the mood to talk about it?”

His father eyed him. A bird squawked overhead, but neither of them looked away.

“Let’s finish our round,” Jacob said. He gestured behind him with his chin. “There are other groups waiting.” He seemed irritated himself.

They finished golfing, and Lucas fretted about it all morning. His father left before they could finish their conversation, and Lucas left feeling lost.

“Joan Coleman,” Lucas said, hand to his chest. “Are you still taping pictures to your fridge like a weirdo? Have you never heard of magnets?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “I ran out of them. And I can’t resist Samuel’s and Harrison’s baby pictures. Or their preschool pictures. Or the recipe Mimi scribbled out for me on that index card.”

Lucas opened Joan’s fridge and, discovering a half gallon of chocolate milk, laughed in delight.

“I was literally just thinking about chocolate milk.” He poured himself a glass.

Joan was leaning against the counter staring at him when he rose up.

“I’m getting real creepy vibes here,” he said, gesturing to Joan’s face. “How long have you been looking at me?”

“Lucas,” she said, and his posture tightened. “Do you need to talk?”

He raked a hand over his face. “I will soon, I promise. I’m worried about my mom and dad. But I need a little break from thinking about it.”

She nodded, still looking concerned, but she let it go. She wasn’t always great at creating her own boundaries, but she absolutely respected those of others. They sat down together at her kitchen table.

He took a swig of his chocolate milk. “Can I ask you something, though?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Joan studied him, her eyes tracing over his face as though she wanted to peer into his mind. He squirmed.

“Do you think I’m just like him? My dad? That’s what everyone says, and that’s what I’ve always thought. It’s what my dad himself says all the time.”

The room quieted, other than the lights humming overhead. Joan looked out the kitchen window to the dark beyond, and Lucas’s gut plummeted.

“I don’t want to speak ill of your dad. He’s always been nice to me.” Joan traced the wood grain on her kitchen table.

“I’m too pissed at him to care about that right now. I swear. Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

“For starters, you’re a better man than him. In my view, anyway.”

That lifted his spirits a little, but it didn’t feel like enough. “Yeah, but am I like him at all? Is he right?”

“I mean, I guess you bounce from one thing to another sometimes, looking for the next adventure, kinda like he does. You’re a charmer like him. You can talk your way out of things.”

Lucas’s mouth tasted like bile.

“You’re also really loyal and unselfish, and you care more about others than him. Having some things in common with him doesn’t define you.”

He smiled, but he still didn’t feel very good. “Well, I’m glad you think I’m a good guy, anyway.” He chugged the rest of his drink, deciding they needed a subject change. This one bummed him out. “So how’s your week?”

“Well,” Joan said. Her voice was a little softer, a little more hesitant. “A lot of work, obviously. Besides Celeste, there’s a guy on our unit I’m worried about. He had a below-knee amputation, and he’s super down about it. He does manual labor for a living. His physical function is his life, you know?”

Lucas nodded. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to realize Joan and her friends weren’t saying “baloney amputation,” but he thought it might be a bad time to make that joke.

“He’ll get there, though. Otherwise, I’ve been doing things for my family. Babysitting for Wyatt. You know the drill.” She stared out her window, frowning, and then looked at him again. “Working on my therapy at home.”

“Ah.” He scratched at his collar. “And, uh, how’s that going?” He willed himself to think of her therapy as a strictly medical thing, but it was difficult. He tried to get over the feeling of discomfort.

“What did you want to know about it?”

He held eye contact with her for a moment. A strange weight settled onto the conversation. “Okay. So is the treatment, like, awkward? Seems like it would be awkward.”

She scrunched her nose, thinking.

“Actually, no. You would think so, but the therapist makes me feel pretty comfortable. It’s extremely clinical. I mean, there are internal exams, of course.” She met his gaze. “My last one wasn’t even painful, which has been an extremely huge step. She taught me how to use dilators. They’re, like, these little plastic stretching tools.” She held her hands apart to demonstrate length.

“Huh.” He scratched at his neck again. “That doesn’t sound so bad, I guess.”

“The therapist has been super sweet and patient. It’s been good. One of the few positive experiences I’ve had with my vagina.” Her face flushed. “God, sorry. Too much?”

Lucas’s own face heated. This felt like dangerous, uncharted territory, but he shook his head. “Nah. It’s okay.”

He watched as Joan tucked her legs under her and then took another calming breath. His voice trembled, so he cleared his throat.

“Can I ask—I mean, God.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m sure I would know if you had, but have you ever been, like?—”

“Assaulted? No, I haven’t. It’s nothing like that. That can be a factor, but this problem also happens to lots of people who don’t have trauma like that. For me, there really isn’t a reason. It’s just how I am.”

He exhaled, and his heart slowed a bit. He didn’t realize he’d been so worked up. “Good,” he said. An understatement, that. “So why now? When this has been going on for so long?”

“I’ve wanted to for a while, actually. A long while. I just had to work up the courage. Or maybe I just needed to be sure I was doing it for myself and not for someone else.” She averted her eyes. “I want kids someday. That’s a big reason. Mostly, though, I’ve always wanted to have actual, like, intercourse sex. I mean, I've still been able to enjoy myself.” Her face flamed again. “I’ve had plenty of orgasms, I mean.” She thunked her head against her old wooden kitchen table. “Sorry, sorry. This is too weird for us.”

“I promise it’s alright. I want you to talk to me like you would any friend. I am your friend.” Still, Lucas fidgeted a bit. An electrical charge powered the space between them, and he watched her intently when she raised her head again. He experienced a sudden, intense vision of her in the throes of pleasure, and it shot a jolt of arousal through him. He could imagine her cheeks flushed, her hair splayed around her with her head thrown back, and the still picture lit up his nerves. He shoved the image way, way down. It was just an instinct, he thought, a reflex when one discussed sexual pleasure with someone of the gender they were attracted to. He hadn’t entertained thoughts like that about her in a really long time.

“I guess I was just trying to say that sex doesn’t have to be all about, uh, penetration, so for me, it hasn’t stopped me from having a pretty decent sex life. I’ve done a lot of reading about my condition and women’s sexuality. There are quite a few straight women having bad sex, apparently.”

Lucas ran a hand along his jaw. How had they gotten here?

“So why is that? That women aren’t always having good sex, I mean.”

Joan laughed. “I knew you would get stuck on that. It’s far from universal, obviously. But in general, there’s too much focus on, you know, vaginal intercourse. Some women are happy with only that, but the majority aren’t.”

Lucas nodded along. He was, he thought, a generous lover, but he’d heard other women talk about their dissatisfaction when they thought he wasn’t listening.

“I’m sure this doesn’t apply to you.” Joan rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it get you down.”

“I do think the women I’ve dated have been, uh, pleased,” Lucas said. “Unless they were faking enjoyment and I didn’t know it.”

“But intercourse is always the end game, right? It’s the main event, and everything else is supposed to be a lead-up.”

Lucas winced. That one hit a bit close to home.

“So the guys you’ve dated,” he said. “It’s been okay? Like, no one pressured you or made you feel bad?”

Joan tipped her chin and looked up at him. A piece of blonde hair fell over her eye, and she blew it away. “What do you think?”

Lucas’s breath shortened. A wash of anger covered him. The idea of someone hurting her made him feel like throwing things.

“I’m sorry, Joan.”

“For all men?” She smiled sadly. “I’ll be honest, it’s been an enormous problem for some of the guys I’ve dated, and I’ve shed a lot of tears over it. Even good guys don’t stick around for me.” She shifted in her seat. “Chet must have told one of his friends, because this particular friend would make ‘poor Chet’ jokes, even though I’m the one with the debilitating pain.”

His lip curled. “Fucking Chet.”

“Yeah. Telling his friend was the major problem there. Made me feel six inches tall.”

“He wishes he had six inches.”

She laughed. It rang out in her kitchen. “It’s not all bad, though. I’ve gotten creative, and not everyone was awful about it.”

“Wow. Low bar, huh?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately.”

“And now?” he asked. “You haven’t been involved with anyone recently, right? In a physical way?”

She shook her head. “It would help, because I’ve been working a lot on treating myself, but it’s not the same as having an end goal with an actual person.” She pursed her lips and stared at her hands. “Though, it might just make me feel more pressure if someone was like, waiting on me or something. I don’t know. I need someone I trust, who won’t rush me and won’t make me feel like they would leave if I wasn’t successful.”

A dangerous idea nudged at his mind. He experienced intrusive thoughts sometimes, and this one flashed like a neon sign lighting up his consciousness. His gaze traveled the length of her again—from her flushed face, to her smallish breasts in her bright-green tank, to her ubiquitous black leggings framing her legs. He tried to discard it. That way lay dragons.

That wasn’t how he operated, though.

“I would help you,” he said softly.