Page 47 of August Lane

This was like a nightmare August used to have.

She was standing next to a tiny crate, and Jojo tried to shove her inside, claiming it was a game.

“You’ll like it” her mother cooed with a nail and hammer in her hands.

August tried to protest, explain what games she actually liked, but she couldn’t speak.

Silent bubbles floated from her mouth, hovering before they burst in the air.

“I’m not staying here,” August told Jojo, because she’d stopped having that dream a long time ago, once she started writing. “Graduation is in a few months, and then… I…”

Jojo raised an eyebrow. “Then what?”

August touched her throat, fingered the necklace Jojo had given her. “I can come with you.”

If rejection had a sound, it was the tortured gasp that escaped her mother’s lips. “That’s your career plan? Freeloading? Taking vacations on my dime?”

“I’m a singer,” August told her, because Luke was in her head egging her on, saying she was born for it. “I thought I could… shadow you or something. Meet your people.”

Jojo gripped her suitcase with both hands.

“I’m gonna tell you what I wish someone had told me before I let them put that crown on my head.

This is your life. It’s happening right now and it’s the only one you’ll ever have.

Stop asking permission. Don’t wait to be saved.

Fight hard and fight dirty until they’re afraid to take anything from you. ”

Jojo hugged her on the way out. August hugged her back even though she wanted to shove her mother away and rip the necklace from her throat like the spoiled child Jojo had reduced her to.

The front door opened and closed. The house was silent.

Eventually, August returned to her bedroom and was surprised to find Birdie still there.

She sat on the bed, hands folded, calmer than before.

“There you are.” She looked past August, into the hallway. “Alone?”

“She’s gone,” August said. “Re-abandoned me before she left.”

Birdie furrowed her brow. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.”

“She hates me,” August said. She kept her eyes on the floor. The way she’d sided with her mother against Birdie made her burn with shame. “Maybe that’s why I’m like this. Gullible. Trusting all the wrong people. I just want someone who can look at me and not hate me.”

Birdie touched her back. “I don’t hate you.”

“You lost her because of me,” August said, finally meeting her eyes. “I’m what she runs from.”

Birdie clasped August’s hand and closed her eyes. August jerked away. “Don’t pray for me.”

“I will always pray for you,” Birdie said. “I will put a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food in your body. I’ll protect you no matter what.” She grabbed August’s hand again and pressed it to her chest. “Because you’re mine. I love you because you’re mine.”

August hugged her, buried her face in Birdie’s neck. Birdie rubbed her back, shushing and mumbling comfort. “I’ve got you, baby” she whispered. “My little Johanna.”

Homecoming was a blur. Luke could only remember random moments, bits of conversations he couldn’t be sure were accurate.

He remembered talking to Jessica about August. He remembered waking up the next morning, feeling like he’d done the right thing, only to find out he’d done the opposite.

Somehow defending her had put a fresh target on her back.

By Monday morning, the entire senior class had lined up with darts.

“It was Richard” was the rumor during first period.

“Wasn’t she messing with Luke?” someone asked at lunch.

“It’s Coach Ramirez” everyone decided by the end of the day. “That’s why he got fired last month.”

Luke tried to argue with them. He did try. But it was like telling little kids that it was impossible for Santa to float down a chimney. You just don’t believe in magic their faces told him. Don’t ruin our fun.

An apology wouldn’t fix things, but he still owed it to her.

He tried to call, but no one answered, so he borrowed Silas’s car and drove to her house.

He didn’t want to show up unannounced but there was a ticking clock inside him, counting down to something he didn’t want to identify.

He only knew it grew louder the longer they were apart.

The house was smaller than he’d imagined.

All the Lane women had big personas, so he’d envisioned something sprawling and picturesque, not a skinny white shotgun that looked like something you’d find down in New Orleans.

August’s car was parked out front, but when the door opened it was Birdie Lane glaring down at him from the porch.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m Luke—Lucas Randall, ma’am. I’m here to see August.”

“Jason’s boy?”

“Yes. He was my father.”

“You look like him.” She came down the stairs. “Smell like him, too.”

Luke took a step back, even though there was plenty of space between them. He resisted the urge to sniff himself. “I’ve been staying at Delta Blue,” he explained, which sounded better than the truth, that he’d bathed in so much pilfered vodka Saturday night the scent might never wear off.

The door opened again, and August stepped out.

She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, her typical uniform.

Her hair was straight and loose, like it was most days.

Seeing her again, looking exactly like herself, made him happy enough to explode.

That’s how much he missed her. His body was too small to contain it.

“I need to talk to him,” she told Birdie.

“He smells like that bar.” Birdie blocked his view of August. It was like that night at Delta Blue when Silas stopped him at the door. Another family member walling off the path to her forgiveness.

“We won’t be long,” August said. She held a journal, the one with “Luke’s Song” inside. The sight of it calmed him a little. Birdie was trying to keep them apart because she didn’t know. No one had heard their music yet. But they would. He was sure of it.

“Five minutes,” Birdie said, before retreating into the house.

August watched her with a somber expression that made him nervous.

He didn’t have a speech planned. The only way to stop a lie from spreading was to tell the truth, something he didn’t think August wanted to do.

All he had were reasons and explanations. A heart full of hope.

“I tried calling,” Luke said once they were alone. “No one an—”

She grabbed his shirt, fisting the fabric at his neck, and pulled him down to her.

Their eyes caught and then she kissed him, hard and deep.

Luke didn’t hesitate, or at least his body didn’t.

His thoughts were a confused jumble as he pressed closer and kissed her senseless.

Finally. It was tongues and breath, hand seeking purchase, and bodies welded so tight they started sweating.

“Augustina Lane!”

Luke wrenched away so fast he nearly fell to the ground. Birdie had the screen door open and gaped at them wide eyed and fuming. August smoothed her hair and yelled, “Sorry! Won’t happen again!”

“Three minutes,” Birdie said, and motioned for them to separate.

Luke complied, but August stayed where she was, watching him through her lashes. Once Birdie left, she said, “I’m mad at you.”

“Oh?” His stomach sank.

“But only because I love you. So it’s okay.”

He was already unsteady from her kiss. Now she’d split him open. “I love you too,” he said, and his voice was gruff, coated with rust. That’s what happened when you held something in for so long.

His answer made her happy. It was a brief shimmer, but definitely there.

Then the somberness was back. “Birdie’s sick,” she said.

Luke looked up at the house, at the place where her grandmother was just standing, and she added, “You can’t tell.

Mild cognitive impairment, they said. Rare at her age. They’re running tests.”

That internal clock started up again, counting down, warning him to get ready. Here it comes. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why I missed school. I’ll probably have to do that a lot. Take her to appointments. Work. She’s gotten lost a few times, nothing major, but now she’s afraid to drive.”

“I could help,” Luke said quickly. “Drive her around. Take some of the load off you.”

“It has to be me. If I’d been around more maybe…” She looked at the journal in her hands. Luke kept his eyes on her face, refusing to acknowledge what she was implying, that they should feel guilty about finding each other. There was nothing to regret.

“You couldn’t stop it,” he told her. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“We like to think that don’t we? When it’s hard? But there’s always something.” She offered him the notebook. He didn’t take it. They stayed like that for a moment, then August said, “Could you hold on to it? I don’t have time for music right now. Taking care of Birdie, plus school and graduation—”

“What are you saying to me?” She’d just kissed him. Said I love you. Now he was being dumped? What kind of story was that? They couldn’t skip the part where they tried.

“She needs me right now. More than you.”

Right. So that was his mistake, letting her think he was fine. That he’d come here standing upright instead of on his knees. “You need time,” he said. “I get it. Take all the time you need.”

She offered the journal again. “Luke—”

“ Do not give that to me!” he snapped. “I never paid for it. It’s not mine.”

“I never wanted your money.” August smiled. “I just wanted you to like me.”

She pressed the journal into his hands. Giving him the notebook was a request for space. And he had to respect that, even if it meant he couldn’t keep her.

Or at least, not all of her.

Luke took the journal. “It worked. I like you more than anyone, I think.”

She kissed his cheek, destroyed him one more time, then returned to the house.

Luke got into his truck and sat for a while. He couldn’t feel the clock ticking anymore, probably because there never was one. That was just his heart breaking.