Lessons Learned (22 page)

“How are they different?”

Taking a deep breath, I rolled over onto my back and gazed at the ceiling.

“Josh Ramsey was a handsome and bright seventeen-year-old boy. His family came from money, but of course, everyone in that school had money. He wasn’t an athlete. He wasn’t popular. He certainly didn’t have a girlfriend. He had
zero
friends. He was quiet and polite, and perfectly content to be an average student with average expectations. He wanted to fade into the background, and he was good at it.”

My hands were shaking, prompting Lucas to reach over and lace my fingers through his.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

I took a deep breath.

“Josh was in my AP writing class. He was a mediocre student at best in every other subject, but he loved to write. He confessed in one of his writing assignments that he really wanted to be a journalist and travel the world, and it was the first time he’d ever shown an interest in anything. I’d always jot down notes in the margin of their papers, and I encouraged him to talk to the guidance counselor about college. I knew he’d never get a scholarship with his grades, but I also knew tuition wouldn’t be an issue for his family. I wasn’t sure if he was really ready for college, but I thought maybe the counselor could point him in some direction—a technical school or something. Just something to keep him motivated.”

Lucas nodded.

“As the school year progressed, his writings became more detailed and descriptive. Suddenly, he was sharing stuff about his parents and his siblings, and how he hated high school because he felt like such an outcast.” I fought back my tears as Lucas squeezed my hand. “It was heartbreaking. I was young and idealistic and thought I could change the world. So, I encouraged him to make friends, and for a while, it actually worked. He wasn’t suddenly Mr. Popularity, but I would see him eating with this one kid at lunch—a really popular kid—and it gave me hope that maybe he could enjoy the rest of his senior year . . .”

My voice began to break, and Lucas pulled me closer to his chest. I rested my ear against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, hoping the steady rhythm would calm me. “In one of his journals, he told me he had feelings for someone, and he was pretty sure they felt the same way. He asked for my advice, and I told him . . .” I swallowed convulsively and tried to keep from crying, “. . . I told him he should be honest. I told him he shouldn’t be afraid to tell someone how he felt about them, because life is too short and . . . and you never know . . .”

Lucas pressed a kiss to my hair.

“Some time passed, and suddenly, I was hearing reports that Josh was being bullied. Someone had keyed his car—someone beat him up in the gym locker room—and it wasn’t just at school. His family suddenly wanted to ship him off to military school, and they were forcing him to see a psychiatrist. They were trying to “de-program” him, he told me in his journal. I had no idea what he was talking about. I didn’t ask. I
should
have asked.”

Feeling suffocated, I pulled myself out of his arms and climbed out of my bed. In a daze, I walked over to my bay window and crawled inside. Lucas didn’t follow me, and I was grateful. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall.

“I did ask him to stay after class one afternoon,” I said shakily. “We’d talked so much through his writings, but we’d never had a real conversation. That afternoon, he confessed to me he was gay, and the feelings he had were for a guy named Travis Morgan. Travis was a forward on the basketball team and was headed to Duke to play college ball. He was very aggressive on the basketball court and a hothead in general. His father was a surgeon and very distinguished in the community.”

“And Travis wasn’t gay,” Lucas concluded.

I blinked back my tears.

“No, he wasn’t gay. Josh confessed his feelings to Travis, and that’s when the bullying started. The administration didn’t try very hard to protect him. Dr. Morgan was a benefactor, and . . . well, Travis was very careful about keeping his hands clean, but the kid had a lot of friends. It finally got so bad that Josh’s parents pulled him out of school. He wasn’t allowed to keep in touch with me—the administration forbid it, as did his parents—but at least I knew he was safe from Travis’s band of thugs.”

I looked toward the bed to find Lucas sitting on the edge, watching me carefully. Yes, I was close to falling apart, but now that I was finally talking, I just wanted to finish it.

“Suddenly, it was the week before graduation, and we received an email from the principal telling us Josh was returning to school. He’d been placed on homebound, but he really wanted to take his final exams at school. He also wanted to attend graduation, which meant he’d need to participate in practice. Naturally, Travis wasn’t pleased that Josh was getting to return to school, and when the underclassmen began to joke about Travis’s boyfriend coming back . . .”

Wrapping my arms around myself, I began to rock back and forth, as my heartbeat sped. Lucas was suddenly there, folding me in his arms and carrying me back over to the bed. My breathing was shallow, and my head began to spin.

“You don’t have to say anything else,” Lucas whispered against my ear, but I knew that wasn’t true. I had to tell him everything.

“Monday arrived, and I’d spent my morning giving finals. We had four separate lunch periods, and it was first lunch. I was just headed to the office when I spotted Josh in the lunch line. I hadn’t seen him yet because AP writing was my last class of the day. I wanted to say hello, but I also didn’t want to bring attention to the fact he was there, so I just stood along the wall and watched as he looked for a place to sit. His classmates ignored him, just as they’d always done, and he finally found an empty place in the back corner of the cafeteria.”

My tears were uncontrollable now, and I buried my face against his shirt.

“I don’t know what made me look toward the exit, but I did, and that’s when I saw Travis.”

I took a deep breath as the images of the day flooded my mind.

“Travis walked toward Josh’s table. By this time, some of the kids had spotted him, but that didn’t stop him from reaching into his pocket. Travis pulled out the gun and pointed it right at Josh . . .”

“Stop,” Lucas begged hoarsely as he crushed me to his chest, but I couldn’t stop. How could I possibly make him understand it was my fault unless he heard the entire story?

“I could live a thousand years, and I’ll never forget the screams. And the blood . . . so much blood, and it was my fault.
I
told him to be honest.
I
told him to be real, and he listened to me. He listened to me, and now he’s dead.”

“Look at me,” Lucas demanded, framing my face with his hands. I couldn’t see him for the tears clouding my vision. “It was
not
your fault. It was a horrible, horrible situation, but it was
not
your fault, Sarah. You did not kill that boy. You did not place the gun in Travis’s hand. It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart.”

It was the same speech I’d heard from so many people—Monica, my therapist, the police. Even Josh’s mother. And there were times I’d actually believed maybe I wasn’t responsible for Josh’s death. But there were other times—dark, depressing moments that seemed to swallow me whole—when my mind tried to convince me otherwise. It had been a constant battle since May and was the driving force behind my return to Sycamore Falls. I’d needed distance from everything—the people, the city, the memories—it had all become too much, and I’d ached for the sanctuary of home.

I had no idea how long I cried—desperate, despondent tears—while I tried to purge my mind of the negative emotions that threatened to consume me. There were times when Lucas held me so tight I could barely breathe, but he never let go, and I didn’t try to pull away. I was selfish, and I needed him, for as long as he’d have me.

Lucas’s whispered in my ear, telling me how much he loved me and how I was the bravest person he’d ever known. He kissed every inch of my face, and after a while, my tears began to subside and my breathing slowly returned to normal.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I finally opened my eyes.

He was still here.

Why was he still here?

“You didn’t leave.”

His eyes—those blue eyes I loved so much—were full of agony and pain as he searched my face. After a few minutes, Lucas finally smiled softly and traced my wet cheeks with his fingers.

“I could never leave, Sarah. I wouldn’t survive it, either.”

Tired and weary from my long confession, I collapsed against him. Holding me tightly, Lucas lowered us onto the bed and pulled the blanket around us.

“Try to sleep,” Lucas coaxed.

“You’ll stay?”

He kissed my forehead.

“I’ll stay.”

I was so tired, but I had to ask one more thing.

“Do you still love me?”

I felt his warm breath against my cheek. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

It was exactly what I needed to hear, and I closed my eyes.

Chapter 17

I awoke the next day feeling lighter, as if a weight had suddenly been lifted from my heart. Lucas was wrapped around me like ivy with his head resting on my stomach. He must have gotten uncomfortable at some point, because his shirt and jeans were gone, leaving him in a pair of plaid boxers.

    They were pretty sexy boxers.

I ran my fingers through his hair while he gently snored. It was getting longer, curling around the nape of his neck and along his ears. We’d definitely have to find him a barber before Thanksgiving. I didn’t know his mother, but I had a sneaking suspicion she’d prefer her son to be a little more clean-cut.

Most mothers do, after all.

Anxiety bubbled in my stomach as I thought about their upcoming visit. What would they think of my hometown? What would they think of me?

Did it matter?

Not really.

Besides, I could only concentrate on one visitor at a time, and Monica would be arriving tomorrow.

Lucas’s arm tightened around my waist as he began to stir. My fingers continued making an even bigger mess of his hair, and he hummed contently against the exposed skin of my stomach. He gently pulled the hem of my shirt a little higher, and I gasped when his lips brushed against my bare flesh.

“Waking up with you is officially my favorite thing in the world,” Lucas whispered against my skin. “Good morning, Miss Bray.”

“Good morning, Mr. Miller.”

Lifting his sleepy eyes toward mine, I giggled as he crawled up my body, pressing me deeper into the mattress. His nose glided against mine, making me shiver.

“I love you, Sarah.”

“I love you, too.”

I pulled him closer and pressed his lips to mine.  His quiet groan vibrated through me, and I giggled when his fingers slid along my ribcage. His eyes were shining with love for me, and I was thankful the giant cloud that had hovered above us last night was nowhere to be found.

Lucas laughed against my lips while his hand drifted higher—tickling and teasing—while he explored my hidden flesh. His tickles became torturous as his fingers crept higher, and I squealed loudly, causing us both to laugh breathlessly in between kisses.

Then his hand skimmed my breast, and our laughter faded.

Lowering his head, he tenderly nipped at my bottom lip as he caressed me through the fabric. Desire bloomed deep inside me, causing me to moan.

“Raise your arms,” Lucas commanded softly and lifted my shirt over my head. It was quickly tossed aside, and his eyes devoured me. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen me topless, but our time at the river had been fun and playful. This was so much more, and while my first instinct was to feel shy and insecure under his burning gaze, the look in his ravenous eyes assured me I had no reason to be.

Lucas lowered his head, and my eyes fluttered closed as his mouth explored every inch of my flesh. Each brush of his lips was reverent, finding the places that made me sigh, and his tongue was adoring as he discovered the places that made me moan.

“So soft,” he whispered, his voice aching and rough. Slowly, his fingertip blazed a trail from the column of my neck to the valley between my breasts, causing me to writhe with need. His touch was agonizingly tender, but my skin felt as if it was on fire.

Desperate to touch him, too, I raised myself onto my knees and slid my hands along his chest. Burying my face against his neck, he shuddered when I peppered wet kisses along the skin there. His head rolled back, and I kissed along his jaw line and down his throat as my hand swept across his abdomen. He groaned my name when my fingers drifted lower, and I felt his stomach muscles tighten when my hand lightly brushed along the waistband of his boxers.

Lucas’s blazing eyes looked into mine, and I wondered if the desperate craving I saw there mirrored my own.

Suddenly, our movements stilled, and we gazed into each other’s eyes.

“I love you,” I whispered.

It seemed so inadequate, but he smiled like it was Christmas morning.

“I love you, Sarah.”