Chapter 10
Anni e
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this tired in my life,” I say to Luke as we walk into our—no, his —apartment. “I can’t even imagine how Drew is feeling right now.”
Rosie greets us at the door like she always does, and I give her a few scratches on the head before I beeline to the couch.
From the moment we got the text that Drew was in labor, things did not slow down.
By the time we got to the hospital, Emmett told us she was already no more than an hour away from being ready to push—the crazy bitch didn’t even have time for an epidural and refused to tell the doctors that her pain was above a five.
After only a handful of pushes, Mia and I taking turns holding the hand Emmett wasn’t holding, little Lennon was here.
We went to wait with the boys while the doctors checked on Mom and the newest member of our family, and then we were all able to make our proper introductions to our niece a few hours later.
When my head hits the cushion on Luke’s couch, the exhaustion from the work week and the excitement of the past six hours hits me hard. Luke and I both have the day off tomorrow, and I don’t even have the energy to stress about not having work as a way to keep the two of us busy—and separate.
“Come take a shot with me,” I hear Luke say from the kitchen.
“It’s two in the morning, I’m not taking a shot with you,” I tell him from the couch. The energy of this man never seems to run out.
“Please? It’s not every night we become an aunt and uncle,” he replies.
Too tired to argue, I grumble, “Fine,” and get up from the couch, covering my mouth with the back of my hand as I let out a yawn. The only hard liquor I drink is gin; anything else reminds me of going around the trailer and picking up bottles of vodka, whiskey, tequila, and whatever my dad could get his hands on.
Gin was the only one he didn’t like.
It definitely isn’t ideal for a shot, but when I get to the counter, it’s what Luke pulled out from the cabinet above his fridge, along with two shot glasses.
He pours the gin for the two of us, and we each pick up one of the small glasses. He holds his up in front of me. “To Lennon, the seventh member of the Lenny’s crew.” Luke smiles at me, and I have to roll my eyes to avoid sinking into those baby blues.
I gave my heart to Luke all those years ago, and I never once asked for it back. The emptiness in my chest became a reminder of why I don’t let people all the way in, why I always keep loved ones at arm's length, why I’ll never let myself love anyone like I loved Luke.
So maybe it’s the exhaustion or the happiness I’m feeling for Drew, Emmett, and Lennon, but I can’t ignore the feeling in my chest, the one that feels like my heart is filling beyond its means.
I don’t have a heart. Not anymore.
But right now, it feels like I do.
And I can’t help but think there is no one else I’d rather celebrate this moment with.
“To Lennon,” I echo, holding up my shot glass to clink with Luke’s.
We both take the shot, the piney—almost medicinal—taste shoots a warmth through my body as I set the glass down.
Luke coughs into his fist, setting his glass next to mine. “I don’t know how you drink that shit.”
A laugh escapes me as he shakes his head, his blonde hair whipping across his face, looking like Rosie after she gets out of the bath. “Why do you have it if you don’t even like it?” I reach for the bottle, pulling it closer to me to inspect the label, and notice it’s the same one I buy, the same one I convinced Emmett to carry at Lenny’s.
“Because you like it,” he answers, and the heart I felt a moment ago skips a beat.
“This obsession with me is getting out of hand, Lukey-poo,” I tease, needing to gain the upper hand. I back away from the counter, closing the distance between me and the guest bedroom.
The apartment is mostly dark, aside from the light in the kitchen. It’s quiet enough to make it feel like we’re the only two people in the world.
Nothing good happens at two in the morning.
Because it feels too much like a dream. Like whatever happens in the middle of the night won’t matter in the morning.
Luke takes a few steps toward me, and my feet are stuck to the ground. My words must have hit a nerve because there’s none of his usual demeanor—no flirty sarcasm, no bright grin, no playful wink. All I see is that same edge I saw before when he told me I was coming to stay with him. The one that shuts me up and makes my brain short-circuit.
“Obsessed doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel about you, Annie girl.” His words are a kick to the back of the knees, and I am being thrown back in time. Back when I never thought I’d have to learn what it felt like to live a life without loving Luke.
“You don’t mean that,” I whisper, and he takes another step closer to me. Close enough that if I unglued my feet to the floor, I could close the space between us with a step of my own. “It’s been seven years, Luke. It’s been over for just as long. This,” I say, gesturing between the two of us, “is nothing.”
The words feel like sand on my tongue.
They don’t feel like the truth.
“You’re it for me, Annie, whether you want to see it or not. It’s always been you. Always will be.”
I feel pressure behind my eyes, so many feelings plummeting into me hearing his words.
The words I wished for in secret over the years.
The words I know he thinks he means but doesn’t.
The words I wish meant something .
My feet move until I can feel his cool breath against my lips, until our chests are no more than an inch away from meeting, until I can make out every single drop in his ocean eyes.
I hate him for making me feel like this.
I hate him for what he did for me, almost as much as I hate myself for not being able to move on from it.
I hate him for never letting me go.
I hate him for being here, for following me when I tried to run away.
I hate him because I love him. I always have, and I always will.
I fucking hate him.
And I kiss him.