Page 5 of Things We Left Behind

We were different people now. Our gazes locked in that familiar, uncomfortable recognition.

It was strange, having a secret with the boy I’d once loved and now sharing it with the man I couldn’t stand. There was a subtext to every interaction. A meaning no one but the two of us could decipher. And maybe there was a small, stupid, dark corner inside me that felt a thrill every time our eyes locked. As if that secret had bonded us in a way that could never be undone.

He was moving forward, the crowd parting around him as power and wealth blazed their own trail.

But he didn’t come to me. He went straight to my mother.

“My sweet boy.” Mom opened her arms, and Lucian stepped into them, wrapping her up in a hug that displayed a disconcerting familiarity.

Her sweet boy? Lucian was a forty-­year-­old megalomaniac.

The Morgan brothers moved on to join their friend with my mom.

“How are you all doing, Sloane?” Mrs. Tweedy, Nash’s elderly, gym-­going neighbor demanded as she took their place. She was wearing an all-­black velour tracksuit, and her hair was pushed back from her face with a somber-­looking sweatband.

“We’re doing okay. Thank you so much for coming,” I said, taking her callused hand.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom pull back slightly from her embrace with Lucian. “I can’t thank you enough. I’ll never be able to repay you for what you did for Simon. For me. For our family,” she said to him tearfully.

Uh, what?My eyeballs had no choice but to fly to Lucian’s devilishly handsome face.

God, he was beautiful. Supernaturally molded by the gods beautiful. He would make gorgeous little demon babies.

No. No. Nope. Absolutely not. My biological downwardspiral was not going to make me look at Lucian Rollins as a potential mate.

“You know, they say weight lifting is good for grief. You should come on down to the gym this week. My crew will take good care of you,” Mrs. Tweedy squawked as I strained to eavesdrop on my mother and Lucian.

“I’m the one who owes you both,” he said, his voice husky.

What in the hell were they talking about? Sure, my parents and Lucian had been close when he was the wayward teen next door. But this sounded like something deeper, more recent. What was happening, and why didn’t I know about it?

Fingers snapped in my face, jolting me out of my head.

“You okay, kiddo? You look pale. You want a snack? I got a protein bar and a flask in here,” Mrs. Tweedy said, digging into her gym bag.

“Are you all right, Sloane?” Mom asked, noticing our kerfuffle.

Both she and Lucian were looking at me now.

“I’m fine,” I assured her quickly.

“She zoned out,” Mrs. Tweedy tattled.

“Really, I’m fine,” I insisted, refusing to meet Lucian’s gaze.

“You’ve been up here for over two hours straight. Why don’t you get some fresh air?” Mom suggested. I was about to point out that she’d been standing there just as long as I had when she turned to Lucian. “Would you mind?”

He nodded, and then suddenly he was in my space. “I’ll take her.”

“I’m fine,” I said again, taking a panicky step back. My escape was blocked by a large display of funeral flowers. My butt rammed the stand, and the arrangement from the Knockemout Fire Department wobbled precariously.

Lucian steadied the flowers and then placed a big, warm hand on my lower back. It felt like getting struck by lightning directly on the spine.

I was careful about never touching him. Strange things happened inside me when we did.

I didn’t make the conscious decision to let him guide meout of the receiving line. But there I was, moving along like an obedient golden retriever.

Naomi and Lina were halfway out of their seats, looking concerned. But I shook my head. I could handle this.