After Victory: A Searching for Glory Novel (A Second Chance Love Story) (13 page)

Luke watched me, saying nothing.

“Did I just ruin the night?” I asked self-consciously.

“No.” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know if anything could ruin this night.”

I objected. “Bad karaoke. Bad karaoke can ruin any night.”

“Do you always do that?” his head tilted. “Do you always make jokes whenever someone says something too serious or too personal?”

“Yes.”

No use denying it. I hated talking about my past, or anything else that was private. It wasn’t because of my own feelings on the matter. I just knew from experience that it made other people uncomfortable. They would look at me with pity in their eyes and stammer over awkward words of sympathy. I was just trying to make it easier on everyone.

“It’s better this way, Luke,” I said, taking another drink. “Trust me.”

“You don’t have to do that with me,” he replied. “I can handle the truth. Trust me.”

I smirked. “I’ve already told you more than I’ve told most people. More than I’ve told Jen.”

“That’s sad.” Luke didn’t have a trace of a smile on his face. “Everyone needs someone to confide in.”

“Who do you confide in?” I had a feeling that Luke’s past was just as tragic as my own. There was something in his eyes that I recognized.

He studied me for a long time, as if trying to assess whether I was someone he could trust with his confession. Apparently, I looked trustworthy enough because he said, “My father was an abusive prick. He hit my mother and he beat the shit out of me.”

“For how long?”

“Until I was big enough to hit him back.” His voice was empty of feeling, but when I looked into his eyes I saw pain.

“Was it bad?” I asked, barely raising my voice above a whisper.

“I survived,” he shrugged, then realized that he hadn’t exactly answered my question. “A few broken bones and concussions. Lots of scars.”

Then he tried to smirk but it came across as a sad smile. “Wait until you see me with my shirt off.”

“We all have scars,” I replied. Before I could stop myself, I reached across the table and took his hand. “Some just run a little deeper than others.”

“What did you wish for at the river?” he asked out of nowhere.

I almost told him. Almost.

“I can’t tell you.” I held up a hand to stop his protest. “It’s not time yet.”

“When will it be time?”

I thought for a second. “After the wish comes true.”

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