Chapter 12
Luke
The grin I’m wearing from the pride gushing through me at Bogey’s immediate response dips at Gen’s question. When I turn and look in her eyes, the pain reflected there guts me.
Missing her has been a daily throb since I left. So much so, I adopted a dog with the smallest of hopes that she’d take me on as a client so I could see her again. I didn’t, however, mean to blurt it out like that.
Lifting the brim of my hat and pulling it back down, I try to slow my sprinting pulse.
How do I respond? I can blame my father. It’s not a lie. He controlled every aspect of my life at the beginning of my career, and it was easier to do what he wanted rather than deal with any conflict.
But I was the one who made the decision not to reach out years into my career. Not even with a simple text.
The truth is, I was afraid she hated me, and I couldn’t deal with knowing she did on top of everything else happening in my life.
I didn’t even talk to my sister about Genevieve. And she never asked.
My throat works to push past the lump stuck, and I glance back at Gen. Confusion, sadness, and frustration are staring back at me.
“In the beginning…” I stop to clear my throat and start again. “In the beginning, everything was overwhelming. My dad was on top of any little thing I did, and I struggled to keep it all together.”
She pulls in her bottom lip, and my hand lifts to smooth the furrow straining her brow, but I clench my fingers into a fist and pull them back to my side. I don’t have permission to touch her, even to offer comfort.
I willingly gave up that right years ago.
Taking advantage of my hidden eyes under the brim of my baseball cap, I let my gaze roam over her face. Heaving out a sigh, I say the only honest thing I can. “I don’t have a good reason for not calling.”
Immediately, her expression hardens, and her gaze narrows. “Forget I asked.” She turns to walk away, but my words stop her.
“No, Gen. I’m glad you did…” I pull off my hat and rake a hand through my hair before putting it back on. Bogey sidles up against me, and the pressure settles my nerves. “I don’t have a single reason for not calling. I have a zillion.”
When she turns back to face me, her chest is quickly rising and falling. A wet nose nudges my hand. My fist uncurls, and I let my fingers run over the silky fur.
“But none of them is an excuse not to reach out. I should’ve at least sent a text at the very least. I was just overwhelmed by—”
“By what, Luke? Being famous?”
“No,” I scoff, shaking my head and exhaling. “The pressure. My dad was pushing me. Telling me to eliminate distractions, drilling into me that I had to focus.”
“So, I was a distraction?” Gen’s voice cuts me.
“To my father, yes,” I mumble. “But not to me.” I swallow. “I’m sorry. I just… golf was all I could handle. Once it started breaking—” I stop, rub my neck. “The anxiety had to push me to the edge before I could even think about changing anything.”
She stares at me, silent. Her eyes were wide, questions running through them. My jaw clenches.
“You deserved better. But I was the worst version of myself and without your—”
“Luke Nichols!” Someone calls out. Looking up, I see the group of people walking toward us, getting closer with every step.
Running my hands down my shorts, I feel pressure crushing my sternum, making it hard to breathe.
My anxiety kicks in, and the corner of my vision starts to go black.
Bogey steps in front of me, blocking anyone from coming too close, just as a warm hand wraps around my arm.
My eyes widen when I glance over to find Genevieve standing by my side, worry lining her face.
Worry for me.
“I’m okay,” I grind out.
“You’re not,” she whispers, harshly. But somehow I know she’s not angry at me. “Once we get rid of these people, we’re going to have a conversation.”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
She glares at me, eyes gleaming, and the corner of my mouth tugs up.
What my father never understood, and didn’t care to understand, was just how good Gen was for me. Like right now, almost falling into a full-blown panic attack, she reaches in and pulls me from the abyss. I needed, need, her clear-headedness.
I still do.
Smiling, I turn toward the group of people. One of them is holding a phone up, taking pictures, I assume.
Great. More fuel for the fodder. J.B.’s going to love the publicity.
“So it’s true,” a woman from the group says, her husband cringing before mouthing. “I’m sorry.”
“That I got a dog?” I ask, trying to guide the conversation. “It is indeed. Meet Bogey.”
My husky lets out a ‘Woooo-aaaa-wooo’ that has everyone chuckling. Me included.
“Not that,” she swats her hand at me. “That you have a full set of teeth.”
“Did my dentist go on record saying otherwise?” I ask, innocently. Thank goodness the brim of my cap is still low.
Gen squeezes my arm before responding. “Luke only smiles for certain people. It’s a rarity for sure. Bogey definitely has a way of luring it out.”
“It’s not just the husky, dear.” She winks, and heat creeps up my neck. Gen’s free hand lifts to her neck, and she fiddles with the chain she’s wearing.
“C’mon, honey, let’s go,” a man says, pulling her away. “They’re obviously busy.”
“Oh, Pfft. Too busy for fans?”
He rolls his eyes just as Genevieve responds. “Actually, we’re in the middle of a dog training session, and I have another client shortly after this. You can blame me for cutting our visit short.”
The woman’s mouth forms a small ‘O’ as Gen starts to move us away.
“Sorry.” I wave as we move on. “She’s a bit of a slave driver.” Bogey backs me up with a pitiful ‘Awoooo’, causing everyone to titter.
“Slave driver?” Gen murmurs. “You haven’t seen me act anywhere near a slave driver.”
“No. You’ve been more than helpful and kind.” The feel of her hand on my arm has my heart jumping. “Even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“I’m glad you noticed,” she chuckles, and then, as if realizing she’s still holding my arm, she pulls her hand away abruptly. I instantly miss her touch.
“Is your anxiety the reason you got a dog?”
Blowing out a breath, I pull at the back of my neck.
I hate talking about this; it makes me feel like I’m defective, even though no one, except my dad, has insinuated that.
“J.B. has worked with Fur-Ever Homes, the rescue Bogs is from, for a while, and after talking to one of the directors, he suggested I get a pet. He was thinking of a cat, but I surprised everyone with a dog.”
Peaking up through my lashes, I try to gauge her reaction, but she only gives the tiniest of nods.
“When you first asked for my help, I thought you were lying, maybe even trying to find a way to get me to talk to you.”
“Wasn’t lying.” I lift a shoulder, shoving my free hand in a pocket, not admitting to the part about getting her to talk to me. Bogey nudges his body between the two of us, and Gen smiles, reaching down to rub the top of his head.
“But when Claire reached out, asking me to help you, I knew it was important…to her at least.”
“It was important, and I desperately needed help,” I respond. “But I didn’t want it to be just anyone.”
I feel the weight of her gaze on my face, but I keep looking forward. For the second time today feeling exposed.
When the weight lifts, I glance at her to see her nod.
“I don’t remember you having anxiety back…” Her gaze shifts away from mine, and ‘When we were dating’ rings through my head. Pushing a strand of hair before her ear, she asks, “What age were you when it started?”