Chapter 29 Scarlett
scarlett
There’s nothing like watching the man you’ve loved your whole life slowly slip into the boy you met at the age of seven.
It’s been slow, and much to my dismay, his friends haven’t caught wind of it until now.
With Abby currently sitting in front of him, her hands on his cheeks, something in me breaks.
Something that would have felt like jealousy before I knew his heart only beat for me.
But now, I just feel sorry for him, for them all, actually.
Because they don’t know this version of him, the sad, broken boy who wants nothing more than to be loved.
But I do, I’ve gotten glimpses of it over the past few months.
A crack in his carefully crafted armor, a brief flicker of self-doubt, the way he flinches when he thinks he’s being rejected.
The way he shut down when he found out Abby and Tate got married, the hurt tore through him like a river, yet other than him walking away, no one noticed a thing. “Do you think regular dogs see emotional support dogs and think, ‘oh shit, it’s the shrink’?”
I turn my head to the side, looking up at Sammy as he stares at his friends in the living room. “Your cornbread ain’t done in the middle,” I mumble before I step around him to grab some water from the fridge.
“Oh, come on, Lettie.” He follows me, leaning a hip against the counter. “Think about it. It’s like us.” His finger wags between our bodies. “You see the lights of a cop car, and you’re suddenly a model citizen.”
“Who says I’m not a model citizen on a daily basis?”
His eyes narrow, “Not the point.” He says as he pops a chip in his mouth, chewing before he continues.
“If you’re a dog walking down the street and all of a sudden you see that shiny red vest,” his hand flies to the side like this is a common thought, and I’m the weird one for not having it, too. “Do you like school your face or act all suave as they walk by so they won’t think you need help?”
Honestly, this is a train of thought I would have had lying in the sunflower field with Lucas as a kid. It pulls at the corners of my lips until a laugh bubbles to the surface. A satisfied smirk grows on his face, the metal ring in his lip catching the light.
“You know, I never really thought about it. Maybe we should find a dog whisperer and ask.”
He hums, pointing the top of his beer at me, “Good idea. You should laugh more. It’s pretty.” He looks back over at Lucas, who’s now headed our way. “I’m sure it’d make him feel a lot better. You’re his kryptonite.”
I don’t know how I feel about being called kryptonite. I’d much prefer partner in crime, best friend, love of his life. But his weakness? No, I’m not sure I like that thought. “Hey, Lettie Girl,” Lucas says as he presses a quick kiss to my forehead.
“Hey Goldie.” I chuckle, kissing his cheek before pulling him into this ridiculous game.
“Sammy here had a riveting question.” I turn toward the doof in the corner, a smirk playing on my own face.
But he simply shrugs and asks the same question to Lucas, who actually puts his plate down to think about it.
This has to be a joke. They can’t actually think dogs do that, right? I mean, now I’m starting to question myself. And before I know it, everyone’s in the kitchen, laying out their reasoning for why or why not they do.
It’s ridiculous, but it’s so fitting for this group of people. And honestly, I don’t mind, the main reason being the smile on Lucas’s face. It’s the first real smile I’ve seen out of the house since family night.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, pulling it out, I clock Miller's name. I quietly step out of the room so I can hear him, “Hey Miller, what’s up?”
He’s silent for a second, tension weaves its way through me the longer it goes on. “There’s a package here for you and Lucas.” He says, but the way he says it doesn’t make me think it’s a Christmas gift.
“From?”
He mumbles something under his breath, “Lettie, I don’t know. There’s no name on it. But the fence was cut again, now this is here. I saw nothing on the cameras, new or old. So someone either knows where they are, or they’re a bloody magician.”
My head drops back behind me, blinking at the ceiling a few times. I ask, “Where was it left?”
“Lucas’s front door.”
I blow air out through my lips, “Alright, need us back now?”
“No, enjoy your night. I just wanted to let you know it’s here. And the fence. I don’t have a good feeling about this, Scarlett. And with him going back on the road in a week… My guts rarely wrong.”
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had that very thought.
The second he leaves, my dad will strike.
Because at the end of the day, this isn’t about Lucas, it’s me.
It’s my father. Whatever he’s hiding, somehow, Lucas’s mom was wrapped up in that.
Or maybe he just thought taking his mom would have made him turn on me.
I run a hand through my hair, my fingers snagging toward the end. Dang, I need a haircut. “I get it, Miller. I don’t disagree, but we’ll figure it out.”
He mutters his agreement before hanging up.
I give myself a second to push my fears of losing the only man I’ve ever loved to the back of my mind, but as soon as I turn to go back to the kitchen, I hit a wall of solid muscle.
“You okay?” his deep, soul softening voice flows through my veins like the most potent drug on the planet.
I melt into him, relishing the way I fit in his arms. “Mhm.” My arms slide up the back of his shirt, nails tracing the muscle there. “Miller has something for us when we get back.”
He chuckles, “Better not be a basket of beef jerky like last year.” His hands slide into the back pockets of my jeans, squeezing the life out of my ass before he relaxes his hands and leaves them there. “Moolan was not a fan of that one.”
I blink up at him, lips parting in surprise at the joke, albeit a slightly dark one, he just made. “Goldie, are you cracking jokes?” I lose the battle to keep the smile at bay as I watch one grow on his ruggedly handsome face.
“Yeah.” His eyes bounce between my own, “I needed this, my team. You. Thanks for dragging me out of the house. I needed to get out of my head.”
“You’re grieving, Lucas, it’s okay.”
His head shakes softly, the sadness returning to his eyes. “No, Lettie. This was the me you met, but it doesn’t feel right to be this way now. This isn’t me anymore.”
His forehead rests against mine, “You deserve better, I deserve better. You’ve been the light at the end of the tunnel through this. And if I’m being honest, I’ve been chasing your light my entire life.”
“Lucas…”
“I know it’s exhausting trying to keep me from going off the deep end, but I appreciate you for it. You are my person, Scarlett Arias. The greatest gift this life has ever given me, and it terrifies the ever-loving hell out of me that I could lose you, too.”
He leans down, pressing his lips gently to mine.
But when I press my hands to his back, pushing him more into me, he groans, and I take advantage of it.
I swipe my tongue against his as my nails drag down his back.
I’m fully aware we’re making out in his best friend’s living room, with half his team in the other room, but I can’t find it in me to care.
I need the feel of him on my skin, I need his lips on mine, I need him to dismantle every one of my fears and fill them with the love that is so uniquely him. “Stay with me tonight?” I say against his lips.
“Gladly.”
I walk out of my room the next morning, confused as to why I woke up alone.
The sun is barely awake, the low glow in the sky shines through the blinds of the kitchen, and that's when I see him.
Walking toward the back of the house, the steady whipping sound of a rope sounds through the door that he left open, leaving the screen door as the only barrier between us.
I knew he needed to work out, he told me as much last night, said it’d help him fight off the demons in his head.
But I figured he’d go run or something, not jump rope with an actual rope from the horse stalls.
He’s crafty, I’ll give him that. There’s something grounding about seeing him like this, steady, focused, alive.
After all he's lost, all the nights he’s spent just trying to make it to morning, this sight feels like a promise I didn’t know I was waiting for.
Leaning against the wall, I watch as thick forearms attached to agile wrists spin the rope around and around with expert precision. The white of his headphones catches the light with every jump. I wonder what he’s listening to, because whatever it is, he’s jumping to the beat.
This isn’t a quick warm-up, no, he jumps a few times before one heel shoots out, tapping the ground before he twists his hips and does the same on the other foot as if he’s dancing, not jumping over a braided rope that would have taken me out twenty times by now.
Then he turns in a circle while bringing his knees up as high as he can, before slowing down and resuming his regular jumps.
I’m not complaining about the private show, though, I mean, damn. His muscles pull taut with every jump, his abs ripple and harden every time his feet hit the dirt.
His hair is pulled up in a half-bun, and the hair at his nape is stuck to the back of his neck.
His bare chest glistens with sweat, his gaze trained on the rising sun in the distance, but then he turns in a circle again, and our eyes lock.
A smirk pulls at the corner of his deliciously full lips as his head tilts back, silently telling me to join him.
I push through the door, still only in my sleep shorts and a crop top, as my bare feet hit the dewy grass, causing me to shiver.
Maybe from the chill of it, or maybe it’s the heat of his gaze as it trails from my head to my toes and back.
“Come here.” He says, his voice taking on a dangerously husky tone as he stops jumping and reaches his hand out for me.