Chapter Thirty-Five #4
Luke gives me an incredulous look. “Ethan, you haven’t come out to them yet,” he says, though not unkindly.
Even in this state, he’s just as compassionate about this fact as always, but my heart feels heavy.
“It’ll be too suspicious if you come up here with me and suddenly disappear all night.
There’s no way they won’t read into that. ”
“I don’t want to leave you like this,” I protest, my soul crying out in agreement.
“Honestly, I really want to be alone right now, okay? Please? I’ll stay here tonight, but just let me be alone for now.”
In the end, I don’t know how to respond but with a slight nod, even though it goes against everything in my nature to let him go and stew alone in misery.
Luke sighs in relief, pulling me closer and kissing me gently before briefly putting our foreheads together, and at least I can tell he’s being genuine.
My hands instinctively find their way to his waist, drawing him closer.
How I wish I could hold him there forever.
Before I can argue against it, he pulls away and backs into the bedroom, closing the door behind him softly.
I stare at the barrier between us for a long moment, feeling like I’ve been cleaved in two.
Half my heart is in that room with Luke, the other half calling me back downstairs with my friends, and both parties are none the wiser of my sudden turmoil.
How am I supposed to enjoy the rest of the evening knowing that Luke is alone in my bed, likely crying himself to sleep?
It drives me mad just thinking about it.
But he’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want me with him right now, so I have no choice but to obey.
Eventually, I turn and head back downstairs.
As expected, the rest of the group pays little attention to me as I sit back on the couch.
They're too invested in the game. To me, it sounds like white noise now. I can’t focus on the screen.
The image of Luke’s crying face supersedes everything like it’s been burned into my retinas.
I get so restless after a while that I have to get up, and I head into the kitchen to clean, even though the game’s not over yet. That’s usually the only thing that makes me feel better when I spiral like this—having something to do with my hands to distract me.
A few minutes later, Tiff wanders into the kitchen after me and silently starts helping without bothering to ask if I needed it.
It’s definitely a nice gesture, but I was kind of hoping to have the room to myself so I could drop the ‘everything’s fine’ mask for five fucking minutes while I process my anxiety. I wonder if that’s how Luke feels.
“He’s homesick, by the way,” Tiff suddenly says, her words matter-of-fact.
“What?” I freeze, frowning. I turn to look at her like a deer in headlights.
“Luke,” she adds, looking at me like it should have been obvious who she was talking about.
It gives me chills to think she caught on that I was thinking about him, but the conversation simultaneously draws me in like a magnet.
I’m a sucker for the nugget of information being dangled in front of me like a carrot.
“What do you mean?” I frown again.
Tiff rolls her eyes. “He’s missing home. You know, New York?”
I hesitate for a beat before asking, “How do you know?”
She mumbles something that sounds vaguely like ‘fucking idiots’ before turning to face me fully, putting her hands on her hips. “The boy is about as transparent as a laminate sheet. He’s depressed.”
“I know that.” I frown. “But you think it’s as simple as homesickness?”
Tiff sighs, giving me a peculiar look. “You do remember he and I were best friends in high school, right? I watched how hard it was for him to get through each and every day when we were kids. Especially after Frank outed him to the whole school—the whole town. And then having to deal with Frank at school and the constant beatings… I’m amazed he survived at all with the shit that happened to him back then.
That’s why I was so happy when he finally got out of this place. I literally cried tears of joy.
“He’s made a whole new life for himself out there.
A better life, and it looks nothing like the one here.
We kept in touch for the first few years while he got himself situated, but then it got too hard to keep up with him, and we eventually stopped talking,” Tiff says, though she’s smiling affectionately.
“But I loved that he was doing so well for himself that it didn’t bother me if we didn’t stay close.
How could I be anything but happy for him?
He was thriving for the first time in his entire life.
The friends he made out there were so much more like him that I knew he’d never be alone.
I didn’t need to worry about him anymore.
“But now that he’s back here—” Tiff’s face drops into a frown.
“I can see how he’s almost reverting to the way he was when we were kids.
He’s got that same world-on-his-shoulders look back in his eyes that he always hid beneath the bright smiles.
And I think the longer he stays, the worse it’ll get.
I saw how this place was slowly killing him then, and I don’t know how long he can survive it this time. ”
I let out a shaky breath. “It’s really not that bad here, is it?”
“Objectively, no. It’s where I’ve made my home.” Tiff smiles before it falters. “But for him, it was hell on earth. It’s got too many painful memories.”
I frown, staring absently at the counter, feeling my heart cracking around the edges. “Did he ever tell you why he came back in the first place?”
Tiff shakes her head sadly. “No, he didn’t.
But knowing him, it’s probably something to do with his ma.
” She sighs. “He’s never been very open about his personal life, even when we were kids.
But I do know that he would do just about anything for her.
So, if he left his world behind—his paradise—to come back to the only place he’s ever equated with literal torture, my bet is it’s for her. ”
My thoughts drift back to Ryder’s birthday party and the phone call Luke took from his mom.
I couldn’t believe how tense and emotional he was after talking to her, but he never told me what that call was about.
And there was never a point where it felt organic to bring it back up afterward.
Even if there was, I’m convinced Luke would have brushed it off as unimportant to avoid answering the question.
God, I hate it when he does that. It seems like it’s happening more often.
I know next to nothing about Luke’s mother.
I know even less about his relationship with her.
The only thing I’ve ever gotten out of Luke was “it’s complicated” when I asked, and I’d assumed that he meant it literally—a complicated dynamic that he didn’t feel too keen to discuss.
Having never met her, it didn’t give me any context.
But Tiff’s depiction of Luke’s unwavering loyalty to his mom makes me wonder if something is happening with her that he finds too painful to discuss.
Maybe she’s sick? Oh god, I hope she’s not dying…
Or maybe it’s something else entirely. The possibilities are literally endless without more contextual clues.
My brain gets hung up on how Tiff described the effect being back here is having on Luke—this place is slowly killing him.
I’d suspected his angst was more confined, specific to the recent issues with Frank.
But when I look at everything in this new light, I can’t unsee where the itch to get out of here has been there all along.
Whatever it is that’s keeping him here is slowly eating away at him, likely draining all hope of ever being able to go back home.
That’s the root of our recent fighting. He’s like a bird caught in a cage, wanting to fly free. Trapped.
In that moment, it becomes apparent that there is no chance Luke would ever stay here with me—at least not one where he’d be happy.
I deluded myself into thinking there was a shred of possibility that he might be willing to give up everything to make a life with me, but now I realize how unfair it would be to even ask him that.
The idea feels tainted. Cruel. I couldn’t live with that outcome.
It also makes the idea of telling him that I love him suddenly seem heavy and wrong, like an unnecessary burden.
If I were to confess those feelings to him now, would he be able to reciprocate fully?
And if he did, would he feel more torn in opposite directions than he already does?
I’d be one more thing tethering him to this place when it’ll only hurt him to stay.
Suddenly, there’s a loud and riotous cheer from the living room, and Tiff and I glance up at the sound of celebration. She smiles. “Sounds like that’s game,” she says.
I nod my head thoughtfully, not in the mood to celebrate.
My chest feels hollow, almost like my heart’s been carved out with a dull knife.
I must look like I’m in pain because Tiff walks around the counter and pulls me close in an unexpected, bone-crushing hug.
It throws me off guard, but I wrap my arms around her, feeling some of the tension in my body fade with her warm embrace.
When she pulls back, she cups a hand to my cheek.
“Look, I’m sure Luke will be fine,” she says in her mom voice.
It’s oddly soothing, but my lips twitch involuntarily at the idea that I’m being treated like a kid who needs consoling.
“He’s tough as nails when he needs to be.
But I know how shit he is about sharing when he’s struggling because of it.
I’m sure he appreciates that you’re worried about him, even if he won’t say it.
He’s lucky to have you. And I couldn’t be happier that y’all are in each other’s lives. ”