My Lucky Days: A Novel (40 page)

Cleaning off my brush, I moved to the yellow paint. “I don’t think that’s the same as my relationship with Lucky.”

“Maybe. But you did fall in love with him quickly. Like the deep kind. And you almost had a child together. There’s like some unspoken bond that develops from that. I remember when I was pregnant with Linley.” She flinched. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. That was tacky of me to talk about that right now.”

“No, it’s okay.” I smiled sadly. “Just because my story didn’t end well doesn’t mean you can’t tell me yours.”

She reached over, giving my hand a quick squeeze. “You have a big heart, Katie. I hope you know that. It’s why you’re good at your job and why you’re an amazing and thoughtful friend.”

I smiled at her, feeling the guilt inside. An amazing friend would have shared this with her years ago. I almost did. Several times. But to tell meant to feel. And I didn’t want to feel those words when I said them to her.

“So when I was pregnant with Linley. She wasn’t even born yet. And it changed how I looked at Jake. I loved the guy before. But knowing a part of him and a part of me were mixing together, creating this other human. I don’t know. It changed things. Changed how I felt about him. And no matter what happens in our future, it doesn’t change that bond. It happened with you and Lucky too. Doesn’t matter how long you were together. And then the way it ended? That created another bond of shared heartbreak.”

“Maybe, but things are different now with us.”

“Are they really?”

“Yes.” I stared off into the yard at the pink flowers. “I let him go.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t still love him.” She grinned.

“But it’s more than just him. There’s Sam too.”

She set her paintbrush down, pushing a dark strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you against the idea? Taking on a child who isn’t yours?”

“Not completely. But he dropped all of this on me at once. I’m . . .” I searched for the words. Time doesn’t always make the heartbreak better. Sometimes a heartbreak manifests and turns into something worse.

“I get it. You’re afraid.” She said as her eyebrows pinched up.

“What if he lets me close to Sam, but Lucky and I can’t get along?” I asked. “What happens then? What if he takes him away? I can’t go through something like that.”

“That’s the thing, Katie. Everything you do has the same potential outcome. The future is like those black holes in space. Scientists don’t even know what crazy crap is inside of those things. Go through one and anything could get spit out on the other side.”

“So what are you saying? I should just go all in and see what happens? Because that terrifies the crap out of me. We’re talking about becoming an overnight family with a guy I haven’t seen in a really long time. And let’s not forget the part about him being an actual celebrity.” I picked up my glass, fighting the urge to just drink until it was all gone. Panic had that kind of effect on me.

“Believe me. I haven’t forgotten that part.” She laughed. “But let me ask you this. That story you told me? If you could go back to that night at Dusty’s when he asked you to dinner. If you knew at that very moment how it all would end with Lucky, would you say no to him that night?”

Those big decisions. Those moments in time. Those crossroads. That whole night had been a chain of events that had started with Peyton, convincing me to put on that costume and pulling me out the door. Little decisions that added up to a big one.

I set my glass down, thinking deeply about the question. Saying no would imply that Lucky had been a mistake. The child we almost had together had been a mistake. I couldn’t do that. I would never wish for her not to have existed.

“I would still say yes,” I whispered.

She smiled. “Then I think you have your answer.”

“To what?”

“To what you are supposed to do about Lucky and Sam. You just agreed to live the worst pain you have ever experienced all over again, knowing from the very beginning that it would crush you. But you don’t care. You would take it just to have the good days. Am I right?”

“Yeah.” I nodded slowly as I thought about what she was saying.

“Okay. Then go live this new adventure with Lucky. Because this one doesn’t have an end yet. You have no idea what will happen. Spend time with the guy who came back. You’re both older. And hopefully a little wiser. Maybe this time will be different. You just have to give it a real chance.”

I laughed as the fear and excitement moved in a slow dance, spinning and twirling around together in a beautiful waltz. Maybe I could do this. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it wouldn’t. But as someone once told me, we couldn’t worry about the maybes.

The confidence that grew in Hannah’s backyard quickly disappeared when I returned home. The house was empty, and Peyton was gone on her flight rotation. I paced around for a few minutes until the moving turned into scrubbing the kitchen floor by hand.

After an hour, I pulled my yellow rubber glove off and picked up my phone. The screen was blank. I sat there for a moment, staring off into space as the memory from this afternoon played in my mind. I reached up, touching my lips, running my fingers against them as I thought of the way it felt to have him kiss me again.

Putting my glove back on, I went to work on the baseboards. I had a choice. It wasn’t a simple one. But I was blinded by emotions and fear. I just wasn’t sure how to move past that part.

I cleaned through the rest of the evening until the house sparkled and smelled of lemons. After a shower, I crawled into bed and picked up my phone. And there it was. I had three messages. I knew he would contact me after what happened today.

L
UCKY:
I’m lying here right now. I’m staring at the damn ceiling. Sometimes I wonder what you think about as you fall asleep. I used to know because you told me. Almost every night. But now I don’t. So I’m going to tell you what I’m thinking about.

L
UCKY:
I love you. It’s that simple for me. The rest we can figure out. I know it’s been years. I know this is bigger than us too. My mama once said that God tells you the right answer in your heart. You can choose to listen to that advice or not. My heart says this is right. I feel it. I hear it. And I can’t ignore it. My heart told me to put Sam in my truck. And that same heart told me nine years ago to take you home with me for Christmas. To ask you to marry me. And right now, my heart is telling me not to give up. Not to let you go. So I’m here when you’re ready.

L
UCKY:
Good night, Katie.

I read the message again before setting the phone back on my dresser. A tear fell down my cheek. His words always had a way of getting to me. But I don’t know what touched me more: when he used to send me song lyrics or his newfound honesty.

B
efore the sun even touched the sky, I stumbled around the house, looking worse than Peyton on a typical morning. I had tossed around for hours after reading his message. I even started typing a reply at one point. But I couldn’t find the right words. I couldn’t string together the right thoughts. Maybe I just didn’t know the right answer.

I was even more exhausted when I stepped into the classroom. I had to get pepped up, but I was dreading it. The kids were hyper now with only a week left of school. I drank four cups of coffee, sending me to their level of wired and distracted.

I went outside at lunch, sitting alone on a bench. Beads of sweat trickled down my back, making little wet spots on my flowery dress. It was going to be a killer of a summer. My eyes closed and my thoughts wandered back to his words last night.

I sucked in a deep breath, smelling the air full of flowers and grass. The world disappeared, and I heard it. My own heart beating. Maybe it was the caffeine driving me into fits. Or maybe it was much more. But I listened. And I felt suddenly calmer.

After lunch, I found Hannah and asked if she could cover the after-school program for me today. She didn’t even hesitate. When the last student left my room, I made a beeline toward my car and went in the opposite direction of my home—down a red dirt road toward a certain set of railroad tracks.

I searched for thirty minutes before locating the hidden gravel driveway that led to a massive construction site with building materials and piles of rock. I scanned the area, seeing the new blue truck and the familiar older one. As I got out of my car, I laughed at how ridiculous this place was going to be once it was finished.

I heard the distant sound of guitar music coming from somewhere in the half-constructed house. I went through the large, wooden double doors that served as a formal entrance. I smiled, seeing the amazing staircase leading to the second floor. I knew the hand-carved wooden banister was the work of none other than Colt Evans.

The music got louder toward the back of the house. The walls were still mostly boards. As I reached the end of the hallway, a door led to a cement patio and a deep hole in the ground, which I assumed was the beginning of a swimming pool.

The guitar music suddenly stopped. And I saw Lucky, sitting on the other side of the hole in front of the finished pool house.

His eyes met mine in surprise. I stood there a second, not sure what to say. I gave him a nervous smile as he set the guitar down in the case. Picking up a beer bottle from the ground, he leaned back in the chair, taking a drink as he watched me. His hair was slicked back like he had just taken a shower.

As I walked closer, I felt incredibly nervous. And I shouldn’t be. But I was. I knew what I wanted to say to him. And it scared me.

I stopped a few feet from his chair, feeling his eyes on my legs and then to my breasts before smiling at me. His presence always seemed so large, swallowing up the air and even the sunshine around him.

Swallowing up me.

I looked away, trying to regain some composure. “Is he . . . here?”

“It’s just me,” Lucky finally said. “Mia took Sam to the park while I did some work. I think he’s talked her into a movie. So it’s just us.”

I met his gaze. “Oh.”

“I guess you got my message. And you came to . . .” He looked back at me with hopeful eyes.

“Talk.” I let out a deep breath, clenching and unclenching my fingers. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay?” He nodded briefly.

“Lucky . . .” I hesitated. This was so incredibly hard. Starting over. Starting again. Giving him what he asked of me, when I was afraid. I willed myself not to cry, but there were just so many emotions burning in me.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He got up from the chair, taking my clenched hand. “Why don’t we go inside? I can get you a drink or something. Show you around.”

I nodded, feeling the warmth of his fingers as they intertwined with mine. I let him pull me toward the door, but I stopped midstep, seeing something next to my sandals.

Handprints.

Tiny little handprints in the cement. My stomach caught for a moment at the simple gesture. He would go running through here, hundreds of times over the years—as a little kid and then later with his high school friends. Yet, those little hands would be frozen in time.

“He loved doing that.”

I looked up, seeing the softness in his smile as the emotions played across his face. The words I wanted to say. How did we get here? Stumbling through these pieces.

He cupped my face in his hands, and I thought for a moment he was going to kiss me. But all I got was the scent of fresh soap and a little beer. “Talk to me, Katie.”

Sometimes he said things that were like pieces of my memory. And sometimes it was his calming voice that brought back those feelings. “What you’ve asked me to do? It’s life-changing.”

“I know.” His thumbs moved softly over my cheeks. I couldn’t look away from his pleading eyes. So strong and yet desperate. Almost frantic. “But we can do this. I know we can.”

I nodded, feeling the tears hovering on my lashes. “I hope so. Because he needs all of us. You know that more than anyone. And he deserves to have a real family. Or at least for us to try to make it real.”

“We will,” he whispered. “And we can take it slow. A little at a time until we get it all figured out.”