Winter (Four Seasons #1) (34 page)

I can’t
control it any longer. Luke saying those words, it’s like a levy
breaking inside me. Tears slip freely down my face, burning my
eyes. “You’re right. I am broken, and somehow you
do
see me. I want to see
you, too, Luke. I want to be the person to hold you together, too.
I don’t just associate you with what happened here
anymore.”

He sucks in a
deep breath and it catches in his throat. His eyes swim with
emotion. “That’s good.” It’s like a huge pressure has been released
from his body. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It’s
adorably sexy.

“
Yeah, now I
associate you with alcohol and really hot sex, too.”

Luke barks out
laughter, but turns to look away from me. He covers his mouth,
leaning against the car window, while staring at his family home. A
heaviness lays over him that I feel like a tangible force. Somehow
I’ve said the wrong thing. He stabs his fingers through his hair,
pulling himself upright before I can ask if he is okay.

“
All right,”
he says. “Time to go meet my mom.”

******

I’ve met Mrs.
Reid a million times before, of course. Breakwater is small and
she’s on the PTA, plus she owns a bakery in town that everyone buys
their baked goods from. The front door opens before Luke can insert
his key, and all five foot nothing of the tiny woman rushes out to
meet us.

“
Thank god
you’re here! There’s a huge snowstorm on its way in. I was worried
you were gonna get stuck.” She grabs a fistful of Luke’s shirt and
tugs him down to hug her slim frame before he can even open his
mouth. Locked in her embrace, he groans, but it’s all for show. His
mom fixes eyes with me over his shoulder and smiles. “Iris Breslin,
you look more like your father every day. Come here.” She pulls me
into a tight hug, too, startling me.

No one,
no one
, in Break ever
speaks to me about my father, let alone tells me I look like him. A
lump bobs in my throat. They feel to me like the kindest words she
could possibly have said.

“
Good to see
you, Mrs. Reid,” I wheeze. The little woman has a strong grip on
her. She draws back, holding me at arms’ length, studying me. Her
brown eyes are the same color as Luke’s. Just as warm.

“
Don’t be
silly. You’re not in school anymore. You can call me Laney. Come
on, come in before you two catch pneumonia.”

The house
smells like cinnamon and fresh pine, two aromas that probably
shouldn’t go together but do. There’s a stack of mail by the front
door, unopened, and an ironing board propped against a closet in
the entryway. Laney leads us into the kitchen where she’s obviously
been folding laundry. There is a neat stack of clothes on the
kitchen table, a huge pine thing that dominates the room. You can
tell that this is the hub of the house, as any baker’s kitchen
should be. The place is lived in, welcoming—a home. My mind
instantly flickers to my mom’s sterile brownstone and I can’t help
but make the comparison. Her place reflects how cold and empty my
mom is, whereas Luke’s family home is a reflection of Laney, loving
and warm.

“
Dinner will
be ready in an hour. Why don’t you two grab a beer and keep me
company while I finish up?” She points at the basket of unfolded
clothing at her feet. Luke glances at me—
is this okay?
— before I nod and sit
myself down in at the kitchen table. He smiles a little, slings his
coat over the back of a chair opposite and makes his way over to
the fridge.

“
Why don’t you
grab me one, too, son?” Laney says. She hands me an armful of
washing, winking, including me in her chore. The gesture is small
and might have annoyed some people, but it’s a kind thing to do.
She is giving me a purpose, telling me I am welcome, accepting me,
even if she doesn’t realize I’m having sex with her son. I pick up
a t-shirt and start folding, smiling.

Luke raises an
eyebrow when he sees me. He sets down three beers and then proceeds
to smack the caps off on the edge of the worn table. Laney doesn’t
seem to mind. My mom would freak if I put down a bottle without a
coaster, let alone tried to open it on the countertop. “I see
you’re putting your guests to good use, Mom. What did your other
slave die of? Where is my little sister, anyway?”

“
Staying with
friends tonight. She didn’t know you were coming back. You’ll see
her in the morning, though.” Laney pulls on her beer between
folding, taking a surprisingly big draught. Luke makes an awkward
face.

“
Ah, actually,
I was gonna stay up at Brandon’s place with Avery. Just to make
sure she’s not snowed in in the morning.”

Laney puts
down her beer bottle, looking from her son to me and back again.
“
Neither
of you
are staying up at that place. What if
I’m
snowed in in the
morning?”

“
Uhhh… well…”
Luke is a little lost for words.

I don’t know
why but I find myself telling her, “That’s okay, I’d love to
stay.”

Laney nods,
like it was already a foregone conclusion. “Good. I’ve made up the
bed in your room, Luke. You can both go dump your stuff in a moment
before I serve dinner.”

Luke and I
exchange glances but don’t say a word. When Laney is done with the
laundry, we do as she suggested and go to drop our overnight bags
in Luke’s room. And there it is: his double bed, freshly made, two
towels folded neatly on top of it, a spare toothbrush still in the
packaging on top of the pink one. Clearly meant for me.

“
I thought you
said you hadn’t told her anything,” I hiss, whacking his arm. Luke
shakes his head.

“
I swear I
didn’t. She just knows things. She’s like freaking yoda. I got away
with nothing as a kid.”

Dinner is
surprisingly easy to get through, considering. Laney talks
endlessly about Luke’s sister, Emma, and that is another kindness
on her part. She knows without being told that I don’t want to talk
about Brandon sitting in a jail cell as we enjoy our beer and
homemade lasagna, and also somehow knows the topic of my fragile
relationship with Luke is off the table, too. He was right; the
woman really does just know things. The only sore topic she brings
up is my mother.

“
I hear
Amanda’s on her way, then,” she announces casually, but I’d have to
be blind to miss the curious look in her eye. She’s watching me,
waiting to see how I will react. It is public record that my mom up
and abandoned me to move to the city as soon as humanly possible
after my dad died. No one really asked me whether her actions
bothered me, though. That’s what Laney is doing when she watches me
now. She is asking to see if my mom’s presence is okay, if I am
okay with her showing up.

“
Uh, yeah.
She’s catching a red eye first thing.” I take a long drink from my
bottle to hide my discomfort. “I didn’t even know she was my
uncle’s lawyer, to be honest.”

“
Yes, well.
I’m pretty sure your mother would jump through a burning ring of
fire for Brandon, sweetie.”

That comment
catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”

“
Oh, nothing.
They were close in high school is all. Inseparable, in fact. I
always thought your mom had a bit of a thing for Brandon. Mind you,
your mom and dad, plus Melanie and Brandon, all four of them were
thick as thieves. We could never really work out who was with who
half the time.”

“
Mom!” Luke
looks horrified. The casual way she imparts the information that my
mom might have had a thing with Brandon once upon a time makes it
sound completely obvious. The look on her face says so, too. She
puts down her fork and grins at Luke.

“
Son, I didn’t
raise you to be a prude. In fact I know you’re not, so you just
calm yourself. I’m not speaking ill of the dead. Melanie and Max
were good people. I think they just married wrong is
all.”

I pick up a
forkful of lasagna, my eyes on my plate. “I’m not sure Brandon and
my mom are as close as you remember them, Laney. I don’t think she
speaks to him unless it’s about me. And that’s not very often.” The
email she sent me and copied Brandon into was testimony to that.
She couldn’t even be bothered to write him a separate
message.

“
Pain does
strange things to people, darling girl. Just because Amanda
distances herself from people doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about
them.” The hidden message in that statement is barely hidden at
all. I almost choke on my food with how badly I want to laugh. I
manage to hold it in, though. Laney is just trying to be nice, and
I don’t want to offend her. Or scandalize her with the news that my
mother now prefers women over men. We eat our meal and then Luke
and I wash the dishes while Laney watches The Voice. Every minute
or so Luke brushes a hand across my back, tucks my hair back out of
my eyes, touches me in some way to let me know he’s there and
everything is normal.

And it
is
normal. It’s how life
should be, doing domesticated things as part of a family. It’s
nice, and almost takes my mind off Brandon and my dad and the
nightmare waiting for me when I get back to Columbia. I mean, shit.
I have Tate’s funeral to attend, Morgan to comfort, and Noah to
deal with. Oh God, Noah. I haven’t even had time to think about the
drugs.

Even my worry
over that can’t keep my awake, though. I last twenty minutes on the
sofa before my eyelids start to grow heavy. The next thing I know,
Luke is laying me down carefully on his bed, his tongue poking out
in concentration as he tries to put me down without disturbing
me.

“
Sorry. I
carried you through, I didn’t think you’d wake up.”

“
It’s okay, I
need to get changed out of these clothes anyway.” Groggily I get up
and rifle through my bag until I realize that in my rush I didn’t
pack anything to sleep in.

“
You need a
t-shirt or something?” Luke is right behind me, incredibly
close.

“
I, uh—yeah
that would be good, thanks.” Instead of racing away, my heart
thumps hard in my chest, making my head swim a little. Everything
is so different with him, now. I’m hyper aware of him. Whenever
he’s in the room, my skin prickles with the knowledge that he’s
close by.

His eyes pick
me apart as I wait for him to grab me something to wear. A small
smile ticks at the corner of his mouth.

“
What?”

“
Nothing.” His
smile transforms into a full on smirk. “Here, wear this one.” He
tugs the t-shirt he is wearing right off his back and tosses it at
me. I catch it out of the air, mouth hanging open a little. The
black fabric is warm and smells deliciously of him.

“
Really?” I
laugh.

He nods.
“Really.” I try not to gawp at him, his bare chest, packed muscle
over his stomach and rippling over his tattooed shoulders as he
walks slowly towards me. The way he moves is predatory, like I’m a
frightened deer likely to bolt before he reaches me. Maybe in some
ways I am. It’s still so strange to be with him like
this.

“
Are you gonna
put that on?” A wicked look glints in his eye.

“
Maybe. If I
can get some privacy.”

I’m totally
playing and he knows it, which is why he pretends to pout as he
says, “Don’t worry, I won’t look. Your modesty will be entirely
preserved.”

I unbutton my
jeans and shimmy them down, never breaking eye contact with him.
He’s good, I’ll give him that. I know for a fact I’m wearing my
nice underwear today, the lacy stuff. Miracle upon miracles, I’m
wearing a matching bra, too. That never usually happens. As I pull
my top off over my head, I sense him watching my every move. Sure
enough, his dark eyes are burning into my skin. I thread my arms
into his t-shirt and pull it on, enjoying the smell of him as I do
so. I barely have time to gather my hair out of the shirt before he
lunges for me, grabbing hold of my waist.

“
I’m sorry,
that just has to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“
What, a girl
in your clothes?”

“
You
in my clothes,” he whispers back. His mouth is on
mine before I can say another word. I might have been sleepy twenty
seconds ago, but now I’m suddenly very awake. I tangle my hands
into Luke’s hair and he lets out a low growl. That small sound
sends a bolt of heat shooting through my body and pooling somewhere
a couple of degrees south of my waistline. I melt into him and he
catches me up, lifting his shirt that I now wear so he can palm my
butt cheeks. I never knew someone grabbing my ass could turn me on
so damn much. My breathing is ridiculously fast, matching his. Luke
reaches up and grabs my hair, winding it around his fist. He tips
my head back and starts kissing my neck, his other hand sliding up
underneath the t-shirt. I gasp when he fingers begin tracing the
cup of my bra.

“
Luke! Luke,
your mom!” He stops long enough to meet my eyes, and I know there
is no point protesting any further. Desire, animalistic and
undeniable, gazes back at me. This is happening, and I want it to.
Badly. “Fuck it.”