Chapter 20
Twenty
Remi
“Do you know what she’s makin’?” Lukas asks from the passenger seat. He’s rubbing his thumb and index finger together, like I’ve noticed he does when he’s nervous.
“I’m not sure, but I made sure she knew what kind of foods you don’t like.”
“Okay…” He sighs in that dramatic, shoulder-heaving way all teenagers do. “But do I look all right?”
We’re on our way to my mom’s house for dinner.
She and Lukas have met a couple of times, when she’s dropped stuff off at the house, but this will be her first time spending time with him.
She’s an ER nurse, and despite her age, she works way more than she should.
Between her schedule and mine, it’s rare we find a day when we’re both off work and free.
I swear, that woman has more of a social life than I do.
She’s been itching to have us over and to get to know Lukas.
My mom is nothing if not warm-hearted, and since the minute I told her about Lukas and the possibility of taking him in, she’s fully been in grandma mode. On the phone last night, she told me she got a few things for him, but with her, a “few things” could be anything.
I can’t help but smile as I glance over at Lukas.
He wanted to wear “nice clothes” today—his words, not mine—but said he didn’t have anything that felt right.
So, after I got off work yesterday, we went shopping.
I let him pick out whatever outfit he wanted, and with the way his eyes lit up, you’d think I just told him he won the lottery.
He went with a nice pair of khaki slacks, a hunter-green, short-sleeve button-down that he had me iron this morning, and his favorite pair of black Converse, and I must say, he’s looking pretty dapper.
“You look more than all right, kid,” I tell him as I turn onto my mom’s driveway. “Your clothes always look nice, though. Don’t doubt yourself.”
Putting the car in park next to her Camry, I don’t kill the ignition just yet.
“Hey.” I reach over and squeeze his leg. “It’s gonna be okay. My mom is very chill and laid back, I promise. And she’s so excited to get to know you.”
Lukas chews on the inside of his cheek. “You’ll stay with me the whole time?” he asks. “You know, in case we run outta stuff to talk about?”
My heart squeezes. This fucking kid.
“I’ll tell you what… I’ll be so close to you, you’ll be sick of me by the end of the night.”
His eyes light up as he laughs. “I doubt that. But thank you.”
“Of course, bud. What are strangers turned guardians for, if not to act as a buffer toward other strangers who are kind of like a pseudo-grandma to you?”
Brows furrowed with confusion, Lukas unbuckles his seatbelt. “That was sus, Remi. Don’t be cringe.” He climbs out of the truck, and I’m left staring at him, my mouth gaping.
I am not cringe.
My mom’s at the door waiting for us, a tray of cookies in hand, as we climb the steps. “Hi, Lukas!” she exclaims. “I hope you like snickerdoodles. I made them fresh for you guys.”
“Hi, Mrs. Buchanan. I’m not sure I’ve ever had one of those, but I’ll try one. They smell really good.”
“Honey, no need to be so formal. If you’d like, you can call me Nana.”
“Oh, uh…” Lukas glances at me before turning back to her. “Thank you.”
Breathing out a small chuckle, I run my hand across my throat in a dry, exaggerated cut-it-out motion. She means well, but my gosh, does she come on strong. “Lukas, why don’t you head inside, and we’ll meet you in there,” I say. “Turn on whatever you’d like on the TV.”
“What? I’m just tryin’ to be welcomin’ to the boy,” she murmurs as he disappears inside. “I want him to know we accept him.”
“I know you are, Mom. But ease into it a bit, would ya? No need to freak him out, or he might tell you that you’re sus.”
“Sus?” My mom’s face twists up. “Well, what the heck does that mean?”
“Beats me.” I shrug before strolling past her into the house.
I love it here. Even though I don’t make it over here nearly as much as I’d like, it’s always a breath of fresh air stepping inside my childhood home.
I was brought home from the hospital to this house.
Grew up here. Went through multiple broken bones, a whole lot of self-discovery, and even the greatest heartbreak I’ve ever known in this house.
It holds so many memories. It smells the same every time I come—old wood, lemon, coffee that’s been reheated too many times, and rich and sweet with whatever treat my mom baked that week.
It smells like home.
“Wanna tour?” I ask Lukas as I kick off my boots.
“Sure!”
I nod toward the hallway. “Come on.”
“I’ll catch up to you boys in a minute,” my mom says. “Gotta check on the tenderloin. Oh, and Remi, don’t go in the craft room.”
Shaking my head, I chuckle. “So much for easing into it, huh?”
“Oh, quit givin’ your mother a hard time,” she scolds teasingly, the corner of her mouth lifting with the faintest of smiles.
I flash her my most innocent grin. “Love you, mean it!”
Lukas and I meander down the hall that leads to the stairs.
The floor creaks, like it always has. This damn hardwood used to get me into so much trouble as a teenager.
The walls are filled with years and years of family photos and school pictures.
My throat tightens as we approach the banister.
Pictures of my dad and his crew, awards he earned over the years, and the flag given to us at his funeral all hang beautifully on the wall.
“Is that your dad?” Lukas asks.
I nod. “It sure is. Captain Charles Buchanan, Station 14.”
“That’s the firehouse you work at, right?”
“Yup.”
“That’s so cool.”
For a moment, we don’t say anything as Lukas takes it all in.
I don’t miss the tears welling up in his eyes as he looks at all the photographs.
He hasn’t talked about his dad that much with me.
I don’t want to push him, but I’m hoping he does soon.
I’d love to be a safe place for him to share memories with, or even just someone to sit with and feel however he feels.
It’s something I wish I had when I was grieving.
Sure, I had my mom and sister, but they were grieving too, and we all handled our feelings differently.
I never felt comfortable enough to lean on them the way I should’ve. I don’t want Lukas to feel that way.
“Hey, maybe we can hang some pictures and stuff of your dad at the house. Make a little place for him,” I say, nudging him in the arm with my elbow. “If you want.”
I know he has a ton of his dad’s stuff from helping him move in, and he’s even got a few pictures hung on the wall in his bedroom. But maybe having a place more out in the open will be nice.
His eyes widen as he looks at me. “Really?”
“Absolutely, kid. He’s your dad, and you should honor him in any way that feels right.”
Lukas sniffles. “Thanks, Remi.”
“Come on. I’ll show you my old room.”
I smile as we pass a closed door at the top of the stairs. My mom’s craft room. Who knows what she’s got shoved in there that she wants to show Lukas.
“See that?” I point toward the scuff marks on the wall near the baseboard. Lukas nods. “Eleven-year-old Remi thought it would be a great idea to ride my bike down this hall and fly down the stairs.”
Laughter bubbles from him. “No way! What did your parents do?”
“Oh, they raised hell.” I chuckle. “I sprained my ankle on the landing and could barely walk for a week. Never did that shit again.”
“I would’ve loved to see that.”
Walking into my old bedroom next, I show Lukas the very few awards I won playing sports as a teenager and the photo album I have stuffed full of memories that Hollis and I have together over the years, and even some from when I was in the academy.
It’s cool showing him all of this, especially because he seems genuinely excited to look at everything.
My mom steps in the doorway and clears her throat just as I’m putting the photo album back in its place. Her eyes on Lukas, she smiles warmly and says, “Before we eat, there’s somethin’ I want to show you.”
Lukas looks at me, the question written all over his face.
I shrug and breathe out a chuckle. “Don’t ask me. I’ve got no idea.”
“Yeah, because I didn’t trust you to not spill the beans,” she teases as Lukas and I follow her out of the room. She leads us down the hallway, back to her craft room. When she opens the door and steps to the side, letting us walk in first, my heart clenches as I take in the small space.
A room that used to be stuffed full of storage totes and random buckets of fabric and yarn has been fully transformed.
A brand-new bed sits in the center of the room, complete with fresh bedding.
A nightstand sits beside it, with a small lamp on top.
There’s a basket sitting on top of the dresser in the corner with a toothbrush, phone charger, and a couple of pairs of socks still in the packaging set inside.
There’s even a hoodie folded at the foot of the bed.
Lukas is quiet as he takes it all in. “Is this…” he asks, flicking his gaze from me to my mom.
She leans against the doorframe, her smile soft and her voice gentle. “Well, I know you’ve got a home with him.” She gestures toward me. “But I figured if you ever wanted to spend the night here, you should have a place that’s all yours.”
Lukas doesn’t say anything as he walks further into the room, taking everything in. He runs his hand over the comforter. “You didn’t have to do this,” he murmurs, and I can hear the emotion thick in his voice.
“Oh, I know,” she says easily. “But I wanted to. You’ve had a lot of change over the last several months, and I’d imagine it’s hard to feel like you belong anywhere. But I want you to know that you belong here.”
He picks up the hoodie and unfolds it, a smile tugging at his mouth as he shows me the front of it. Pokémon.
“It’s probably too big,” Mom adds. “But boys your age grow like weeds, so I figure I’d gamble.”
Lukas glances at me. “Did you tell her what size I wear?”