2. Luke
Chapter 2
Luke
My dream girl is dead.
She’s in a casket, skin almost translucent, hands folded together on her stomach. Her blonde hair has been drained of color, and she’s in an ankle-length white dress. She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that if she was alive.
I rip off my jersey, pushing through the crowd to get to her as they lower her into her awaiting grave, casket still open.
“Stop!” I shout. “I need to put this on her!”
She should be buried in my jersey. The name Valentine stitched across her back until we’re both nothing but dust.
But they don’t stop. They don’t hear me, even as I scream my throat raw, the desperation clenching my heart as her coffin hits the bottom of the grave and they pour the dirt over her body.
I scream for them to close the lid. But no sound comes out.
My hands are see-through. I’m a ghost too.
I lurch awake, a cold sweat coating the back of my neck, my chest, my pits. Hop out of bed to toss water on my face and brace against the sink, bags beneath my eyes to mark all the sleepless nights that have come before this one.
I sneak back down the hallway to my room, careful not to alert Bud, who will wake the whole house. Coming home on break is always an adjustment. I miss sharing a house with the Devils who would all shrug it off if they saw me wandering around like a zombie at three in the morning.
Not getting away with that shit around my mother. Since I’ve been home, she’s plied me with chicken soup, grilled ham and cheese, saltine crackers, peanut butter sandwiches. Every comfort food she can think of.
I grab my phone off my nightstand to fire off a text to the one person I know is lying awake with me. A smile pulls at my lips when I spot the message already waiting.
Sienna
I want one of those old cameras where you can’t even see the photo you just took. You use it once and those are all the photos you get.
Sienna and I met on social media when we were angsty fifteen-year-olds. Our parents had just started dating, and when I found out Mike had an estranged daughter he hadn’t seen since she was nine, I snapped a photo in a mask, made a new account under the nickname Ten for my jersey number freshman year, and reached out to her.
I knew what it was like to lose a parent. Even if I’d never met her, I knew her pain. But I couldn’t reach out to her as Luke, son of her dad’s new girlfriend. She wouldn’t open up to me if she knew who I really was.
Not sure what I expected to come of it. Nothing, really. Figured she’d probably ignore me when I messaged her. But she didn’t.
Hi. I like your mask.
Right away, she was the sweetest girl I’d ever met. The kind of girl who didn’t deserve a shitty dad but definitely deserved a good friend.
That’s what we’ve been for each other since, even after our parents' brief relationship ended. She might not know my real name or face, she might believe the lie I fed her about living in California, she might not suspect the California number I acquired to text her is from an app, but everything else is real.
Ten
You know they actually put a camera on that phone in your hand. You can take as many pictures as you want.
As expected, her response comes seconds later.
Sienna
Ass.
Ten
Why do you want a disposable camera?
Sienna
Because it’s not about perfection or curating an aesthetic social media feed. It’s about capturing the moment, with all its beautiful imperfections.
Ten
You sure you want to be a nurse? Pretty sure poetry is your calling.
Sienna
I can have hobbies.
Ten
I thought your only hobby was reading smut.
Sienna
That’s just the main one.
Ten
How dirty is your book tonight?
Sienna
Absolutely filthy.
I grin. Sienna somehow manages to bring a smile to my face whenever I forget how to use the muscles that curl my lips up.
My phone chimes with another message.
Sienna
Why are you awake?
No one knows about the nightmares that have been plaguing me since Chloe died, not even Sienna—the memories twisted by my sleeping brain into funerals that are even more disturbing than the real one was.
Everyone around me knows what happened to Chloe, but nobody knows what happened to me after Chloe died. My brain isn’t wired right anymore. Not since I saw her body in that casket, looking like she wasn’t even dead. A sleeping beauty who merely needed a kiss to awaken.
But I’m no prince, and my kiss would never bring her back to life.
No one would understand why I still can’t shake Chloe’s death months later. She wasn’t even officially my girlfriend yet. We hadn’t gone any further than kissing. It’s the guilt that haunts me. The guilt that I could’ve done something to save her.
I tell Sienna everything, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about that night. Couldn’t stomach her thinking less of me because I didn’t protect my friend. Because I failed her.
Ten
Couldn’t sleep. You?
Sienna
Same. Normally you only text me at three in the morning when you’re drunk to tell me how much you love me.
Ten
Gotta lay off the booze. My buddies are getting sick of me telling them how much I love them every week.
Sienna
Is everyone in your phone subjected to this torment?
Ten
My professor is filing for a restraining order as we speak.
Sienna
You know what helps me sleep?
Ten
What?
Sienna
Smutty books.
In my sweats, my cock twitches. The only books I read are nonfiction, but part of me can’t help but want to open up whatever smutty books keep her company at night. I miss her selfies now that she’s deleted all her social media and wiped her existence from the internet. The photos snapped in pretty little summer dresses and shorts that cut off just below her ass.
She still hasn’t told me why she expunged her existence from the internet. What happened that drove her into hiding.
Just felt like I wanted to start living my life unplugged.
That’s the first time I ever suspected she was lying to me. I haven’t been able to shake off the gnawing feeling since.
Ten
I would’ve thought only boring books would help you sleep.
Sienna
Smutty books solve all problems. Seriously, though. Need me to sing you to sleep?
My heart skips, even though I know this is just another one of Sienna’s jokes. We’ve never talked on the phone, and we never will.
Ten
Would you do it if I said yes?
Sienna
Absolutely not. I have a terrible singing voice.
Ten
That’s my favorite kind to fall asleep to.
Sienna
You’re funny. Put on one of those boring nonfiction audiobooks you like to listen to and I’m sure you’ll be out in no time.
Ten
They’re not boring. You’re just not interested in reading anything other than smut.
Sienna
Obviously. Why read anything else? Goodnight.
Ten
Sweet dreams.
I ditch my phone on my bedside table, stripping off my shirt before dropping down to the floor and pumping out fifty push-ups. Only the sweat and pain quiet the thoughts in my head anymore. Luckily, killing myself in the gym and on the ice increases my chances of getting drafted and getting the hell out of this town.
Away from the memories and the dream girl who now haunts my nightmares.
Over an elaborate breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, waffles, and toast, Ma pouts. “I’ve hardly seen you your entire break.”
“That’s because Coach only gave us ten days, Ma.” The first two weeks of break, we stayed on campus, living and breathing hockey. Coach said he won’t murder us over one or two cheat meals and a couple of spiked eggnogs, but he will if we go on a junk food bender for ten days.
For me, it’s easier to abstain entirely than try to moderate, so I’ve steered clear of the Christmas cookies, much to Ma’s dismay. But I’ll indulge her now that the days before spring semester are counting down and eat a couple of pancakes slathered in butter.
“Where’s Mike?” I mumble around a mouthful of fluffy, buttery goodness. Simple carbs are reserved for practices and game days for extra boosts of energy but fuck it.
Bud lays at my feet and I slip him a strip of bacon. He’s been glued to my side since I got home. Maybe it’s just because he missed me, but a part of me is convinced he knows something’s up. Normally, he’s a rambunctious, high-energy golden retriever, but lately, all he wants to do is lay at my feet.
A message from Sienna pops up from my texting app. A screenshot of a cheap, disposable camera.
Under the table, I text her back.
Ten
Dork.
“He’s still sleeping.” Ma gives me a thin smile. She’s up at the crack of dawn every morning like clockwork. Her boyfriend prefers to stay up until two a.m. and roll out of bed at nine. Ma reaches from her seat at the dining room table next to me and squeezes my hand. “How are you feeling?”
Ever since Chloe died—more specifically, ever since my meltdown after her funeral—Ma has been watching me with wary eyes. A ticking bomb, a glass antique teetering on the edge. If she takes her eyes off me for a second, that’s when I’ll shatter.
“Never been better.”
“I heard you working out in your room again this morning. It’s not healthy, honey. You’re pushing yourself too hard. Is this about Chloe?” When I don’t answer, she squeezes my hand. Of course it’s about Chloe. And Pop and Violet. How I failed all of them. “There’s nothing you could’ve done for her, Luke. You need to stop punishing yourself.”
I shake her off and clutch my fork, shoveling in a flavorless bite. “Drop it, Ma.”
How can I stop punishing myself over Chloe’s death when I could have stopped it? I shouldn’t have been drinking that night. I should’ve noticed Trey spiking drinks. I should’ve been with her instead of getting drunk with my buddies. I could’ve kept her alive.
I may not be the reason Chloe is dead, but I should’ve been there for her. I wasn’t.
I didn’t protect her. Didn’t protect any of them. Didn’t save them when they needed me.
“Good morning.” Mike yawns when he finally enters the dining room with messy hair and pajama pants. “Breakfast smells amazing.”
Ma brightens and claps her hands together. “Oh good, you’re up! Now we can share the good news!”
“What good news?” I’m already wary but grateful for the change in subject.
Ma and Mike reunited at the therapist’s office a few months ago. Mike confided in her about how he’d been unsuccessfully trying to reconnect with Sienna. I knew she was getting his texts but couldn’t bring herself to respond to him. Couldn’t figure out how to talk to the father who abandoned her after his divorce. Ma decided to give him a second chance, but I’m still not convinced their relationship is much more than friendship. That’s why she was in therapy in the first place—she was lonely.
At least Mike isn’t the empty husk I met all those years ago. The man with a vacant look in his eyes, like nothing in the whole world mattered to him. But even if he’s done a one-eighty and Ma wants to give him a second chance, that doesn’t mean he deserves one with Sienna.
Mike grins, squeezing Ma’s shoulders while she delivers the news with a megawatt smile. “We’re getting married! This Friday!”
A dull buzz drones in my ears while I replay her words, trying to make sense of them.
Married. Friday.
Married .
What the fuck .
Ma’s radiant smile and Mike’s bright eyes tell me they expect me to be happy for them, but they just got back together a few months ago and they already have one failed relationship under their belt.
Her face starts to fall when I don’t match her excitement.
I drop my fork. “Who gets married in the winter?”
“A winter ceremony will be lovely! Winter is a magical time of year. It’ll be a small ceremony, just you and Sienna and our close families. You remember Sienna—Mike’s daughter. She’s right around your age. I’m sure you two will get along great!” She bounces in her seat with sheer joy and the news has me grinding my teeth. “You’ll have a sister, Luke! Isn’t this so exciting?”
Sienna . Sister .
No. No fucking way. Am I supposed to pretend like I’m not the masked man who’s been catfishing her for years at every family reunion? Suppress a laugh during the holidays when she texts Ten a funny meme under the table?
I won’t be able to keep up the lie anymore if we’re fucking related. I’ll lose her.
Mike hasn’t been a father to Sienna in years, and he’ll never be one to me. We won’t be a family, even if Ma decides to marry him. And I’ll never think of Sienna as my fucking sister .
“We hope she’ll be there,” Mike adds.
If Sienna refuses to respond to his texts, she’s sure as hell not showing up to his wedding. “You two have only been together for a few months.”
Ma’s bright smile wanes. “When you know, you know.”
Like that isn’t the most generic, recycled Hallmark line. My chair screeches when I stand, Bud jumping to his feet and skittering out of the room before I can follow him. “You want to marry a guy you barely know, who moved in two weeks ago and has a daughter you’ve never met, go ahead. Just don’t ask me to be at the wedding.”
I ignore Ma’s protests at my back and Mike’s murmured reassurances. This wedding is a really fucking bad idea, and I’m not going to sit there and watch as she strikes the match and sends her whole life up in flames. Mine with it.