Page 45 of The Wives of Hawthorne Lane

Christina looks at the ground, tracing circles in the dirt with the toe of her sneaker.

“I don’t know that I’d describe us as close, exactly…

” She doesn’t know how to explain her relationship with her parents to Lucas, how to tell him that the idyllic version of her family that he sees, that everyone sees, feels like a performance to her.

How can she put into words the cold detachment she’s always felt for her father, the way she can’t ignore his obvious preference for her brother?

Or the way she loves her mother but doesn’t feel like she knows her, the woman she is under the flawless facade she wears like armor? “It’s complicated.”

There’s a beat of silence before she continues, eager to push the spotlight off her. “What about you, though? You and your mom always seemed super close.”

“We are. Were.” Lucas grows pensive, his eyes scanning the trees as he seems to search for an explanation among the branches. “I guess it’s complicated for us too lately. Ever since she and my dad split up, I’ve been kind of a dick to her.”

“Why?” Christina appreciates his honesty, recognizes that it’s a rare quality in a teenage boy, the ability to admit to his own shortcomings.

“I don’t know. I don’t blame her for their divorce or anything.

Honestly, my dad is the one who deserves the blame.

He just, like, walked out one day and decided he didn’t want to have any responsibilities anymore.

I looked up to him before that, you know?

And then suddenly I couldn’t anymore. I couldn’t respect him.

What kind of man does that? And I was just so mad about it.

Like, really pissed off all the time. And my mom was there, and, well, he wasn’t.

She’s always there. So I kind of took it out on her.

Like, I was afraid that if I took it out on him, he’d just walk out of my life entirely.

But my mom, she’s not like that. She’s solid. ”

“I’m sure you guys will work through this.” Christina squeezes his hand. She loves that she gets to have this version of him. That the tough jock he is at school allows himself to be emotional, introspective when he’s with her.

“Yeah. We will.”

She leans toward him, this beautiful, vulnerable boy, and kisses him again. He seems surprised at first, his lips frozen against hers. But she feels him softening, opening to her as she parts them with her tongue.

She takes his hand, slides it under the hem of her shirt so his fingers are splayed against her bare stomach.

“Are you sure?” he breathes into her mouth. “We can just keep kissing…”

“I’m sure.”

“What the fuck is this?”

The sound of someone in the clearing shatters the moment as if it were glass.

Lucas whips his hand from beneath Christina’s shirt and both of them jump apart as if they were repelling magnets pushed too close.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Sebastian stalks across the clearing, heading directly for Lucas.

Christina stands up and puts herself in Sebastian’s path so she’s positioned between the two boys, but it’s as if her brother doesn’t even see her. His eyes, as sharp and murderous as daggers, are trained on Lucas.

“Whoa, chill out,” Lucas says, holding up his palm in a placating manner.

And it is the exact wrong thing to say. Christina sees Sebastian’s nostrils flare, the muscles in his jaw clench.

“I will not chill out, ” he spits, his voice a mocking whine. “What do you think you’re doing with my sister?”

“It’s none of your business, Sebastian,” Christina says, her hands pressed flat on her brother’s chest. Her heart starts to hammer against her ribs as she stands here with these two angry boys towering over her, but she doesn’t move.

“Like hell it’s not,” Sebastian retorts, his eyes never leaving Lucas’s. He lifts a hand and shoves Lucas hard in the chest. In doing so, he knocks Christina off balance, and she stumbles.

If Sebastian notices what he’s done, he has no reaction to it. But Christina can see the way it ignites something in Lucas, something dangerous and fierce, an untapped rage in him that she didn’t know existed.

“Watch it,” Lucas growls, stepping around Christina and shoving Sebastian so forcefully that it knocks him back a step.

Sebastian wastes no time. It’s as if Christina is watching it all unfurl in slow motion: the way her brother pulls back his fist and sends it in an arc that connects with Lucas’s face, the blood that flies from Lucas’s split lower lip.

The way Lucas touches his face as if in disbelief, wipes the blood away with his sleeve.

How he makes a fist of his own, but Sebastian’s knuckles slam into his ribs before he has a chance to throw a punch.

“Stop!” Christina screams, the world suddenly moving at full speed again. “Sebastian, stop!” She throws herself in front of Lucas, both palms in the air, pleading with her brother.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister,” Sebastian growls at Lucas, his upper lip curling in distaste. He spits on the blood-spattered ground at Lucas’s feet, then grabs Christina by the arm, pulling her toward the path home.

“Christina.” Lucas reaches out for her, but she shakes her head.

“Don’t,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Then she allows herself to be led away from him.