“Why do you spend nights with me instead of going home or sleeping at one of your many girlfriends’ houses?”

Luke pulls away and faces the ceiling. “Don’t do that, Laney.”

I lean up on my elbow and look down at him. “Do what?”

“Make me out to be something I’m not. Yeah, I’ve had a lot of girlfriends, but I’ve never been with more than one at a time and you know that.”

I look away, the guilt quick to consume me because he’s right.

He says, his voice low, “I come here because I like being around you. Because my own home doesn’t feel like home unless you’re there. Because I want to know what’s going on in your life and I want to tell you what goes on in mine. Because you’re there for me through every breakup, through all the shit that goes on with my family, through everything. And mostly, I come here because I want to.” He inhales deeply. Exhales loudly. “Is this what it feels like to have someone you care about break up with you because if it is, I think I’m done with dating.” He rubs his chest… right above his heart. “This feeling sucks.”

There’s power in his words that go directly through my ears and pierce my heart. But I remind myself that it’s a lie. He doesn’t care about me. If he did, he’d remember. “Luke…”

His gaze moves to mine, his eyes revealing his pain. I’ve only seen that look a few times. Once when we were twelve and he showed up at my house, soaking wet from the storm outside, and again when we were thirteen and he accidentally swung a baseball bat too far back and caused me to get three stitches under my right eyebrow. “Did I do something?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

I blink, push back the emotions, the tears. “No,” I lie.

“Then what the hell’s going on?”

I lie back down, my head landing on his already outstretched, waiting arm. And I think… I try to come up with a lie so that we can move past this. So that his actions, or lack of, from the past twenty-four hours don’t define him or us or our entire friendship. And so I give him a half-truth because right now, it’s all I can offer. “The summer’s almost over and summers remind me of your mom and how great she was. And I miss her, I guess. I just…” I trail off, unable to finish with the lump lodged in my throat. So maybe it was more than a half-truth. Maybe it was all I needed to feel, needed to say. Maybe it was everything. “I really miss her.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” he whispers.

“Because she’s your mom. I have no right to miss her.”

He pulls me closer until I’m on my side and my head’s resting on his chest. Then he kisses the top of my head and wraps both his arms around me. “She may be my mom but she loved you beyond words, Lois Lane. And next time you feel like this, tell me and we can miss her together.”

PAST | LUCAS

“It looked like you got on well with Laney. You like her?” Mom asked, her hands and fingers working frantically on whatever knitting project she was working on while sitting on the couch opposite me. It had been more than a few hours since Lois and her dad had left, and the house was a rare kind of quiet. The twins were in bed, Logan was off being Logan, and Leo and Lucy were lost in their own fictional world, as always.

I feigned disinterest, kicked out my legs and got more comfortable on Dad’s recliner. “Her name’s Lois, not Laney.”

Mom smiled. “Well, I think I’m going to call her Laney. I like it better. It suits her.”

I scoffed. “You can’t just go changing people’s names, Ma.”

“Why not, Bobby Jo?” she sang.

“Who the hell is Bobby Jo?”

She laughed under her breath. “You are now.”

I laughed with her. “I think I prefer Lucas.”

“You still didn’t answer my question, Bobby Jo.”

I ignored her use of my new name. “She’s cool.”

“And cute,” Mom added.

I pretended to wipe my mouth with my forearm, hoping it would somehow hide my blush. “She’s cool,” I repeated.

“Mmm-hmm…” She tried to hide her smile, but I didn’t need to see it to hear it. “I was thinking—”

“Uh-oh. This can’t be good.”

“Smartass.” She grinned. “Brian mentioned that Laney would be staying home alone for a couple of days while he works, just until he can decide if she’s old enough to stay on her own for that long a period. But if you don’t mind, I thought I might invite her to spend the summer with us. It might be nice to have an extra hand around here.”

“So you’re using her for child labor?”

She laughed at that. “I didn’t think of it that way. But I don’t know. It’d be nice to have another girl around, and besides, I think we’d be good for each other. I just don’t want your mom to cramp your style by asking your crush to come over.”

“She’s not my crush,” I said. Way too loud. Way too obvious.

Mom didn’t respond to that. Instead she said, “She kicked your ass in that race.”

I lifted my chin. “Like I care.”

“About what? Her spending the summer with us or her kicking your ass?”

“Neither.”

Lies.

All lies.

I set my alarm and woke up early the next morning. It was barely light out, and the twins weren’t even up yet. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, I made my way downstairs and to the kitchen where I left a note for whoever would find it.

Gone for a run.

Won’t leave our property.

Don’t drink all the milk, Logan.

- Lucas.

And with that, I slipped on my sneakers by the front door, tied them extra tight, and I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran until my legs burned worse than my lungs and by the time I was back at the house, my t-shirt was covered in sweat and the rest of my family were all sitting around the kitchen table.

“Did you speak to Lois’s dad?” I huffed out, taking my seat opposite Lucy.

“Good morning to you, too.” Mom ruffled my sweaty hair and poured me the few drops of milk leftover in the carton.

I glared at Logan, who gave me a shit-eating grin. He was such a douche.

I pushed the glass of milk away and opted for water instead. “So, is she coming?” I asked Mom.

“Why so eager?” she teased.

“I want to race her again.”

“Right. Well, it’s early and Brian doesn’t start work until tomorrow, but I’ll call later today.”

“Call now.”

“Luke.”

“Please?”

She looked at her watch. “I’ll wait another hour, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Luke and Laney, sitting in a tree…” Logan sang.

“Shut up!”

“Enough,” Dad warned.

“May I please be excused?” Leo asked, already standing with his bowl and glass in his hand.

Dad nodded, and a moment later, Leo set the bowl in the sink and took his glass with him to wherever he was going. The twins—age four—spoke to each other in a language that was part English, part something they’d made up. Logan ate as if there was a competition to see who could eat the loudest and messiest. See? Douche.