Come on, Tessa. You need to let go of Luke.

I nod quicker than I intend, maybe to help convince myself that this is the best move for me, and it does ease some of my doubt. When I get my damn head under control, I hold my hand out, accepting his phone. “Yup. Very single.” I program my number in and quickly give it back, nearly throwing it at him to keep myself from erasing my information.

He smiles. “Great. I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

He walks back up to the front of the room where a line seems to be forming for him.

“What happened? You froze up.”

I grab Mia’s towel off the bench, handing it to her as we file out through the door. “I don’t know,” I finally respond just as we step out into the parking lot.

“He’s really nice, and I think he’d be good for you. You can’t keep waiting around for Luke to give you more.”

“I know.”

“Because you might be waiting forever for that.”

“I know,” I repeat with emphasis, stopping in front of my car. I watch as she walks around to the passenger side. “I was fine. You saw me. My flirt game was on point, and then I just…” I pinch my eyes shut, gathering my thoughts before looking over at her. “I think about him, and it fucks with my head. It always does.”

She tugs the elastic band out of her hair. “I think it fucks with your heart more, ’cause you love him.”

I roll my eyes, but the words “No I don’t” can’t seem to find their way out of my mouth. Maybe it’s because I’ve just had a weekend with Luke, where I let myself feel things I’ve tried to forget. Or maybe it’s because I’ll never be able to dispute it. I sure as hell haven’t been able to for the past year.

I know I love him. I feel it every day, even when I don’t want to. Even when he keeps me out. Even when he breaks my heart, it’s there, and it scares me.

Because when you fall in love with someone exactly the way they are, how do you convince yourself they aren’t enough for you?

***

I busy myself with work when I get home, knocking out twenty-seven transcriptions after my shower. I know exactly where my idle mind likes to wander off to, so I don’t give it the chance. After devouring my grilled cheese sandwich, and washing up the few dishes I dirtied, I pack up my files and head to the hospital to drop off my work.

Dr. Willis isn’t in his office, so I leave the stack of papers on his desk with a note, letting him know that three of his dictations will need to be re-done due to excessive background noise. I stick the note to the box of Cheez-Its next to his computer screen, spelling out my point, and set that on top of the stack of papers before exiting the office.

The mass of people waiting to take the elevators down to the main floor deters me in another direction. I cross over to the east wing of the hospital, waving at a few of the nurses I recognize from Dr. Willis’ unit. As I’m walking down the long hallway which leads to the other set of elevators, a familiar voice coming from one of the patient rooms has me slowing down until I’m just outside the open door.

“Were you even listening to the doctor? He didn’t say limit yourself to one or two drinks. He said quit drinking. Period.”

I peer around the doorframe, and spot Luke standing at the foot of the patient bed in his police uniform. Even at a distance, he looks tired, like he’s been here for hours. It’s the look people have when they haven’t seen daylight in a while. A glint of something metallic turns over in his hand by his side, drawing my attention down.

“I can’t just stop drinking. It don’t work like that, Son.”

Son?

“Don’t call me son, and how the fuck do you even remember how it works?” Luke asks. “It’s been twelve years since you tried giving that shit up. I mean really tried, not those bullshit attempts before where you made it ’til lunch without grabbing a beer. This is different. It’s not about me asking you to stop anymore, it’s about you killing yourself if you don’t.”

A hear a soft laugh, followed by three deep coughs before the other man clears his throat. “It’s kinda funny, this shit.”

“What is? What the fuck is funny about any of this?” Luke crosses his arms over his chest, but continues to flip over the object in his hand.

I try to look further into the room, but the most of the bed I can see is the bottom of the white sheet covering it.

“The one thing, the only thing that’s ever given me relief from thinking about your mom is slowly leading me right to her. Now, that’s fuckin’ funny.”

My heart drops out to the floor between my feet as my back hits the wall, flattening next to the doorway.

She’s dead. Luke’s mom is dead. Why would he keep that from me?

I hear his voice, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. All my focus is on my own heartbeat that’s now throbbing at the base of my skull.

Sara. Oh, God. Is that his mom?

The overwhelming urge to run into that room and wrap my arms around Luke is staggering. I can’t imagine losing a parent, but I know what it did to Mia. She at least had Ben to comfort her.

Who’s been there for Luke?

“What are you doing?”

I snap my head to the right, meeting Luke’s wild eyes.

Shit.

I slowly peel my body off the wall and step in front of him, fighting back the urge to touch. His chest heaves, his jaw his clenched tight. He looks… pissed. Really fucking pissed, and that look keeps my hands flattened against my thighs.

“I, uh, I was dropping off my transcripts and I heard your voice.”

His chest rises with the breath he takes in through his nose. One hand grips the back of his neck, a habit I’ve noticed of Luke’s, while his eyes pinch closed on his exhale.

I step closer, hesitantly placing my hand on his chest. “Is Sara your mom?” I don’t wait for him to answer after his eyes flash open. I’m not even sure he’d confirm anything at this point, since he’s always kept this information from me. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have kept asking you who that was if I would’ve known. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not something I like to talk about.” His eyes study my hand, as it stays flattened against his shirt.

“Ray called you the other night because of your dad, right?”

His hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me off. “Stop.”

“All those times you had to leave me late at night, when you wouldn’t tell me why, it was because of him, wasn’t it?”

“Tessa, stop.” He releases his grip on me, almost repulsively, as if he can’t stand his skin against mine. “This shit is none of your business. I’m not going to talk about it with you.”

“Why? Let me help you. I want to be there for you.”

“No.”

I grab his hand, pressing, molding us together. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this by yourself.”

“Stop! What the fuck?” He wrenches his hand away. “I just told you I’m not going to talk about it. I can’t, okay? I will never talk about this with you.”

I flinch at his words as if he’s just delivered them with a knife to my chest. As soon as I take a step back, he reaches out for me, his eyes softening with remorse.