The Turning Point (13 page)

“Neither am I. We’ll figure it out together. I’ve heard it’s the ‘thing to do’ around here.” He rocked me in his arms.

It was useless; I couldn’t say no to him. “All right,” I groaned. “At least we’ll look like fools together,” I sighed.

“That’s the spirit.” Releasing me from his muscled arms, he latched on to my hand, threading his fingers between mine.

Heading in the direction of our hotel, once again I felt Lucas’s magnetic energy; it rolled off of him in waves. His pull was a force to be reckoned with, and every minute we spent together I grew closer to him, like the tide to the moon. His vitality was a balm numbing the pain and uncertainty that plagued my future.

I knew it was wrong to lead him on, and yet, I couldn’t let go even if I wanted to; his gravity drew me right back in.

T
he nightclub was crowded and so not my thing. I’d been a soccer player, not a dancer. But Lucas had twisted my arm, said it was the “thing to do.” And I had a hard time saying no when he brought out the heavy artillery: his eyes and that dimple. Together they were a lethal combination. It was scary how, with one look, he could short-circuit my brain and give my body the authority to make decisions.

So, here I was, alone, in the middle of a sea of people, most of whom did not speak English, all because my
body
thought dancing was the perfect opportunity to get close to Lucas. I couldn’t fault the logic, but it also required Lucas to be here. Dean had called and said it was urgent. Lucas apologized, excusing himself to take the call. That was ten minutes ago.

Scanning the throbbing crowd, I kept an eye out for him. Where the heck was he?

People continued to filter in. Dancing had been reduced to hopping in place to the beat of the music, instead of the dirty variety one would expect. Sensuality died as fast as the nighttime breeze. It was freaking hot in here, and it wasn’t because the crowd was getting busy. There were just too many people.

I was so ready to leave.

I fanned myself with a flimsy napkin, bobbing my head to the beat of the music, while I waited for Lucas to return. Then I felt a hand at my waist and a body pressed against my back.

“Whoa!” I shouted, spinning out of the grip of the grabby-handed stranger. Turning around, I saw that it was Lucas.

“Oh, you’re back.” I sighed, relieved it was him and not an overly affectionate drunk.

The band ended their song and the crowd stilled, but the noise level didn’t diminish. I swiped my hands over my neck, lifting my damp hair and twisting it into a knot on top of my head.

Lucas took in the ever-growing mob, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his stubbly chin. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Want to get out of here?”

His breath tickled. I shivered, letting my hair fall back into place.

He took a step back and our eyes locked. After spending nearly two weeks together, one would think I’d become immune to their sparkle, but that was not the case. If anything, they were more potent than ever. Wide pools of cobalt blue radiance.

My gaze traveled to his mouth, and I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, remembering how they’d tasted…their warmth…how they moved—eager and hesitant all at once. I longed to feel the scratch of the blond scruff on his chin against my cheek.

“Soph?” he said again, snapping me out of our alley-scene replay.

I flicked my eyes to his. “Huh?” I blinked. “Oh, sorry, what did you say?”

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth; a faint citrus tang still lingered. I’d powered down two limoncellos in the span of twenty minutes, knowing I’d need some liquid confidence if this night really did involve dancing. They’d done their job. A zing went through my veins and quieted the part of my brain that chastised me for wanting to live a little.

To hell with what I thought this morning. If I don’t kiss him soon, I’m going to go out of my head.
Happily-ever-after might not be in the cards for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a happily-right-now.

He gestured toward the exit with his thumb. “Want to go?”

I tried my hand at a sultry smile, biting the corner of my lip as I nodded my reply.

“Let’s get out of here.” His palm trailed over my shoulder, down my arm, and rested at the small of my back.

Pleasure rippled over my skin.

Pressing the front of his body close to my back, he guided us through the throng of intoxicated club-goers.

I elbowed my way through the mob outside, anticipating the warm breeze blowing off the bay.

Once freed from the throng, I sucked in a lungful of sea air. My shoulders slumped, and I relaxed. “Ahh, so much better out here.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Lucas mumbled, slipping his arm around my waist.

Okay?
Since he’d gotten back from taking his phone call, he hadn’t said much, and that surly attitude was definitely new. “Is everything all right?”

Ignoring my question, he led us down the busy street, toward the hotel. We turned down another smaller street and he quickened his pace.

“Lucas, is something wrong?” I tried to slow down, but he was too strong. “Lucas?”

Nothing.

“Lucas, stop!” I shouted, digging my heels into the pavement.

That got his attention. He screeched to a halt.

“What is going on?” I pulled away from him. I’d never seen him like this. The muscle in his jaw ticked and his eyes were like solid pieces of ice, hard and unyielding.

He blinked a few times. “Sorry,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I just had to get out of there.”

“Why? What’s the matter? Is Dean okay?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced a few steps back and forth. “Yes, he’s fine.”

“Then what’s going on? Talk to me.”

He spun on his heel. “I don’t want to fucking talk, Sophia!”

Whoa. That came out of nowhere.

Feral, hot anger rolled off of him in waves, puncturing my resolve.

I backed off. Staring wide-eyed, I held my palms up in surrender. “Got it.”

This was a first, a side of Lucas I didn’t know. The last two weeks had been nothing but longing glances and a well-choreographed getting-to-know-you tango. And he was a
good
dancer. Always careful not to trip and throw us off balance. He’d twirl me in close, turn his bedroom eyes on, whisper into my ear, and just when I thought he was going to dip me—finally let me in—he’d spin me away. His cagey demeanor made it impossible to really get to know him. He was more of a control freak than I was, and that was saying something.

This outburst was different. He wasn’t trying to impress me. He wasn’t worried about missing a beat in our little dance. In a way, with his loss of control, he was letting me in, trusting me with his anger…or was it hurt?
I wish I knew how to read his facial expressions.

The name Julia ran through my head. Was this about her? Should I bring her up?

I chewed on my fingernail, contemplating my next move. If I pushed too hard, it could backfire and I’d be finishing this trip alone. I didn’t want that. But I didn’t want to be a pushover, either. He needed to let his guard down and start talking.

“Lucas,” I said, my voice mimicking the lightness of the breeze. “Please tell me what happened. I realize it’s none of my business, but I’d still like to help, if I can.”

He stopped pacing long enough to glance in my direction. His foot slid across the concrete, crunching gravel beneath his shoe as he stopped in front of me. He stared.

Uh-oh.
I’d said too much. He was pissed.

He closed his eyes and blew out a long breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m here. Talk to me.”

“Not here.” He clutched my hand, hard, like it was a life preserver in a choppy sea. “At the hotel.”

Pulling me along, we made the short walk in record time. Lucas unlocked the door and pushed it open, allowing me to go in first.

I walked across the room and kicked my shoes into the corner, dropping my purse there, too. Turning around, Lucas stood near the door, staring down at the keycard in his hand. Whatever Dean had said, it sure weighed heavy on Lucas’s heart. Mine broke for him. For once, it was nice to be there for someone else…to help someone with their problems. I just hoped he’d let me.

Padding across the carpet, I stood in front of him. Grazing his fingers, I took the keycard from his hand. He lifted his head. The wild, skittish glare in his eyes was gone, replaced with something much more devastating…heartache?

“I need to sit.” He sidestepped me on his way to the bed.

Plopping down, he sat with his back against the headboard. I left the keycard on the table by the TV and walked to the other side. Regarding me, he patted the mattress. “Keep me company?”

I crawled across the queen bed and sank beside him, folding my hands in my lap, matching his stance.

Without looking at me, he dived into his story. “Ever done something stupid?”

“Haven’t we all?” I said with a puff of laughter. Scotty Hendrickson came to mind…partying the night before Pen died…I’ve regretted those moments of stupidity my whole life.

“Six years ago, I did something I shouldn’t have. I was a fucking idiot.”

“Whatever it was, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” I offered in consolation.

He bumped his shoulder against mine. “Ever been in love, Linebacker?”

I rocked my head against the headboard. “Not even close.” My heart rapped two staccato thumps, the number of syllables in Lucas’s name. A whispered note from deep within me, letting me know I was still alive…still capable of feeling, and love was still visible on the horizon.

“That’s what I did wrong. Six years ago, I met a girl, and I fell in love with her.” Acid. It was in the way he said “fell in love,” all corroded with negativity and hatred. Not the way love is supposed to sound.

Was that where the illusive
Julia
fit into Lucas’s puzzle?

A twinge of jealousy flared in my chest, ridiculous, yes, but it was there nonetheless. Of course Lucas would have been involved with someone. He was gorgeous, funny, considerate; it wasn’t at all surprising that it had been a serious relationship. Logic aside, I wasn’t a fan of this girl.

“And falling in love was bad?”

“The worst fucking thing I could have done.”

My jealousy morphed into disappointment…sadness. Was this his stance on love, period? He’d never risk his heart again?

“And then I had to go and ask her to marry me.”

Whoa. Marriage? Seriously? This conversation just made a left turn into What-the-Hellville.
The word “marriage” lodged in my throat. This was huge. “What happened?”

“She said yes. We planned a wedding. She bought a dress. I got a tux. I went to the church on what was supposed to be our wedding day. And she left me.”

His words hung between us for a minute. A stony silence. What did etiquette call for in this situation? I went with the standard. “Lucas, I’m so—”

“No,” he interrupted. “Don’t say you’re sorry. There’s only one person who owes me an apology.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, bewildered.

“Nope, isn’t him either.” Though diminished by time, his hurt was still real, palpable. This had to be about Julia. Why else would his subconscious call out her name? What was her motivation? The Lucas I knew wasn’t a jerk. He’d been nothing but a gentleman over the last couple weeks. I didn’t get it.

I wanted to do something, reach out to him, let him know he wasn’t alone in his sadness. Though our stories were very different, I knew what heartbreak was, too. I understood how it felt to have the future you planned for ripped away. I clasped my hand over his, lacing our fingers together. He didn’t want apologies or sympathy; the least I could offer was comfort.

“What did Dean want?”

“Up until tonight, I didn’t know why Julia left me. I thought things were great between us. In a million years, I did not see it coming.” He let out a long, measured breath. “I met her my freshman year at the University of Southern California. We dated for three years before I proposed at the start of our senior year.” Lucas stared at the dark television as if his story were being acted out on the screen.

“Julia insisted on a long engagement, wanting to make sure she had enough time to pull off the wedding of her dreams.” Lifting his hands, he made air quotes at the end of his sentence. “The long engagement didn’t bother me. It actually worked in my favor, giving Dean and me time to make our name in the gaming industry.

“After three and a half years, Julia finally chose a date. When she’d gotten news that her mother’s cancer wasn’t responding to treatments. Julia got scared her mom wouldn’t see her walk down the aisle. February twenty-eighth was supposed to have been our wedding day.” He sighed and kept going.

“It didn’t matter that I was in the middle of my second year of grad school; I was ready to marry that girl the second I got down on one knee. She was it for me. I loved everything about her. Every freckle that dotted her face, her brilliant green eyes…She was beautiful inside and out. Her fiery spirit, her perpetual optimism, her dedication to social work and the foster kids she took under her wing. Julia wore her heart on her sleeve, especially for those kids.”

The jealousy monster stirred inside me. Maybe I didn’t want to hear this story. I liked it better when Lucas spiced Julia’s name with a dash of contempt.

“We were happy. Our wedding day came. I took a shit-ton of pictures with my buddies and went to wait in the back room of the church until it was time to watch my bride walk down the aisle.”

I wanted to hold his hand again, but it felt weird given the way he spoke of Julia, with a hint of desperate longing. Did he want her back?

My heart sank. I couldn’t compete with her ghost.

“She sent one of her bridesmaids back to the room. Chrissy. She was a mutual friend of ours, and I could tell she was holding back tears when she told me Julia wouldn’t be walking down the aisle. I pleaded with Chrissy. If I could just talk to Julia, everything would be all right. But she wouldn’t see me. She wouldn’t accept my calls, return text messages, respond to my e-mails. Hell, I’m sure she deleted my voice mails without listening to them. Radio silence.” Lucas picked up my hand and squeezed.

“No one knew her reasons, or they weren’t talking if they did. Dean called tonight to warn me to stay off Facebook. Apparently, the answer to my only question was on there.”

“Did you look?”

He nodded. “I unfriended Julia before coming here. I didn’t want her posts showing up in my feed. But after being together for so long, my friends were her friends, and vice versa. Not seeing her is pretty unavoidable. That’s why I stay away from Facebook. If I didn’t use it for promo, I’d delete my damn account.

“Against Dean’s advisement, I looked while we were at the club. One of Julia’s sorority sisters had changed her relationship status from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship with Julia Conner.’ From what Dean had found out, Julia and Courtney had been messing around well before February.”