Never (18 page)

I glanced over at him, trying to round up the trash. My heart went out to him...and broke for him. He was the love of my life...and he was an alcoholic.

"Lucas—"

"I know what this looks like," he said, moving like a Tasmanian devil and filling a trash bag. "I would have tidied up, but I dropped everything to get you."

I bent down and picked up a couple of bottles, the glass clinking together and ringing in my ears. "And I appreciate what you did. But this isn't about your trashy apartment. This is about your drinking problem."

I expected a fight, for him to get indignant and tell me that it wasn't a big deal. For him to forget that I was familiar with dating someone that self medicated with a twelve pack. It turned out that Jared wasn't a better man. He succumbed to his darkness. He made it a part of him. But I knew Lucas. Lucas still had a chance.

So I buckled down, ready to tell him that I'd drive him to AA meetings myself if I had to. He was my best friend and I knew he was hurting, even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

"I know you mean well," he began.
Here it comes..
. "And you're right."

My mouth worked, opening and closing. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to hug him. Or ask him to repeat himself because I must have heard him wrong.

"I remember my first sip of alcohol. Scott Montgomery was having a party while his parents were in Europe." He paused. "You remember Scott? My mother hated him, long blond hair, always had a cigarette in his mouth and bragged that his parents let him drink so he'd be well-adjusted?"

I twisted my mouth to the side, concentrating. Most of his friends seemed to be cookie cutter types. Kid versions of a Ralph Lauren or Tommy Hilfiger commercials. Scott's face came to me out of the sea of polos and plastic smiles. He always wore band t-shirts and smelled like cloves. He was the only one that actually listened to what I said instead of just tolerating me for Lucas' sake.

"I remember him."

"So the party is raging upstairs and me and Scott go down to the wine cellar,” Lucas continued. “I didn't know anything about wines, so I was happy to just grab an armful of the first ones we came to. Scott told me he had something better in mind.

“We walked to a specific aisle and I don't know how, but I could just tell it was where they kept the good stuff. He swiped a bottle and read the label. It was from 1990. He pulled the cork out and took a long gulp and passed it to me. I hesitated, then threw it back.

“The warmth hit me instantly.  I felt tingly from head to toe. I asked him if it always felt so warm and his answer was yup. Especially when it's a bottle of wine from a million years ago. He told me that every week his dad came downstairs. He'd be in the cellar for hours." Lucas looked at me, his voice hollow. "His dad spent more time nursing his old bottles of wine than his son."

"Just like your dad spent more time at the office than with you?" I said softly.

"I don't think I ever drank a single drop of alcohol because I like how it tastes or for any pleasurable reason. I drink to get drunk. To feel that warmth. To feel anything but actual feelings."

Lucas saw the most intimate and secret parts of me. We'd been through so much, losing each other and finding each other all over again. He was my only love. Talking about his relationship with his father had always been taboo. A conversation about his drinking? That was akin to pulling his toenails off one by one. But here he was, going to an uncomfortable place and taking me with him.

Because he loves me.

He walked to the table and perched on the edge. "I have far more sad memories of my father than happy ones. But they all have something in common. The happy ones were nights that he came in, tie askew, looking so exhausted that he could curl up right beside my bed. He'd ruffle my hair and..." He stopped, his nostrils flaring as he looked away.

I stepped forward, cupping his cheek and gently turning him back to face me. "It's okay."

He brought his hand up and covered mine, his eyes filled with emotion. This wasn't remotely easy for him. I saw it in the taut way he held his body. The way tears should have been dashing down his cheeks but he refused to let them go any further. Even when he was being vulnerable and opening up, Lucas McNamara had his limits.

"And then I got older,” he went on after collecting himself. “He came home later and later. I'd sneak out of bed and peer between the bars of the wooden bannister. Mom would be downstairs, sitting in the chair near the window. She'd always have something in her hands. A book, a magazine, a glass of wine. She wanted to seem busy—but every few minutes she'd look out the window, hoping to see him pull up." The tears receded and his face hardened. "When he finally came in, he'd barely even look in her direction. He didn't even see her. He didn't even see us."

"I'm sorry," I said softly. I pretty much needed a crowbar to pry myself away from my mother as a child. There was never a doubt in my mind that she loved me. In my angriest moments I thought she loved me too much, but even then I didn't believe that. There was no such thing as too much. I saw that in Lucas' eyes.

"I wanted to believe I could handle it," he said after a minute, his eyes holding mine steady. "That I didn't have a problem. But I...I have a problem, Juliet. And I don't want to. You deserve more than that. I don't want to have anything in common with that fucking prick—"

I pressed my fingers against his lips. "I never should have said what I said. And right after you did what I'm pretty sure is the most romantic thing a guy has ever done for me."

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "I totally bombed that."

"Maybe," I smirked. "But you bombed it in the most romantic way." I slid closer to him, drinking in how right it felt to be near him. "I'd give anything to take it back."

He dusted my hair out of my eyes. "It's okay. We've both said and done things we didn't mean."

"Not like that," I said, not taking the out he was so willingly giving. "I don’t think it’s possible for us to be destined to screw it up. From the moment we met, my life was better. You get me and I get you and when we argue, my heart breaks into a million unfixable pieces—and then you smile and they're all glued back in place. I didn't end things with you because you're toxic. I ended things with you because I was afraid that..." Tears bubbled in my throat. "That you'd wake up and see that I wasn't worth getting into a fight over. That I'm not worth ruining your reputation. Maybe your mom was right. You're a McNamara. That name means something. My name means something too—and it's nothing good." I bit my lip, coming clean bringing no relief. With my luck he'd see the rationale in my thinking. I wished I could backtrack. Lie. But he deserved it. All of the things that had been eating me up. "You're not the one that doesn't deserve me. I don't deserve you."

His blue eyes caressed me like waves stroking the sand. "You really believe that?"

I nodded, pulling my chin to my chest.

"Juliet, that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

I snapped my chin up, indignation flaring my nostrils. "Excuse me?"

"You're ruining the family name? Really?" He took my face between his hands, willing me to look at him. "That video wasn't your fault."

"But if I hadn't—"

"No but's!" he interjected sternly. "That video doesn't own your story. It doesn't take away from the fact that you are kind, smart, driven, and strong. You couldn't ruin the McNamara name, baby. You'd only make it better. You make me want to be better."

My tears were in full free fall and I didn't swipe them away. "I never should have let you go."

"Everybody makes mistakes," he winked.

I shoved him, laughing through the tears. He brought me back in, nose to nose. Heart to heart.

"I never stopped loving you, Lucas.  I couldn't even if I wanted to."

He licked his lips, the lustful hunger in his gaze warming me from head to toe. "I really want to kiss you right now. But I don't want to pressure you or-"

"Kiss me."

I didn't have to ask twice. He combed his fingers through my hair and pulled my mouth to his. His touch was light at first, whispering how much he cared about me, until it built to a fevered cry that shouted down everything else but this.

Chapter Twenty-One: Lucas

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

I knew it was a cliche worthy of a graduation greeting card, but it was a sentiment that fit my current state of mind. It was hard to believe that 24 hours ago I was hearing that Juliet was in jail from my mother of all people. That I was battling the urge to scale the walls and slay the dragon to save her. Scared shitless that I’d get a reply the same reply as the one I got outside her dorm. She’d take one look at me and say thanks, but no thanks and opt to go back to lock up over spending one more second in my presence.

Instead, she personified the feeling that filled my chest. She ran into my arms. We finally had the talk I’d wanted to have from the moment I lost her. The screaming truth I avoided as I hit the bottom of every bottle. I was trying to not feel. Escaping in the alcohol. But I didn’t want that. For the first time in a long time, I
wanted
to feel. Hurt, pain, loss, love; the good and the bad. I wanted Juliet in my life.

She was tangled up in the covers, still fast asleep. Her hair was a dark halo around her head, white sheets a strip across her chest and dropping to just above her delicious sex. I wanted to wake her, kiss her, but at the same time I didn’t want to disturb her. She had the cutest little half smile on her lips and since she hadn't had much cause for smiling lately, I wanted her to hold onto that little slice of happy.

I scribbled a note for her to find and slipped out of the apartment, fighting the urge to go back to bed. I couldn't afford any more absences in my classes and considering my 10am english professor was giving me an extension, I was pretty sure she’d rescind it if I missed two lectures in a row and I wasn’t dead or dying.

The sun streamed in the car, turning everything a bright color to match my mood. Every song on the radio was more upbeat than the last, songs about love and forgiveness and new starts. Traffic wasn’t hair pulling and I only had the urge to throttle a driver for driving slow once. When I didn’t have to challenge someone to a duel for prime parking in the commuter lot, my smile wavered. This day was going a little too well.

Shut up, man
, I thought, climbing out and grabbing my backpack. I hit the lock button and started toward the English building.
Maybe the universe decided you had enough bad days lately and the scales are finally tipping in your favor.

I wanted to believe it, gripping my backpack tight and willing myself to relax and not walk cautiously like bad news was waiting behind every bush.

I turned the corner and Blake walked out of the student union, a Starbucks cup in one hand, some starry eyed freshman’s heart in the other.

Shaking my head, I gave him a wave.

“McNamara!” he cried out, lips spreading into a goofy grin. He handed his coffee to the freshman, barely looking her in the face.

“What’s up?” I said cheerfully. I glanced at the petite girl beside him, wide eyed and oblivious. My heart went out to her. “Who’s this?”

Blake frowned, pulling at his hat. “Who’s—” He snapped his fingers and glanced over at the girl holding his shit like she was his personal assistant. “This? She’s uh, um—”

“Cassie,” she answered, not even bothered by the fact that he didn’t remember her name.

“How’s it going?” I asked her, smiling.

Her face brightened, genuinely surprised I actually noticed her. “Good. It’s such a—”

“So where you headed?” Blake cut in. He gave Cassie the most half assed smile he could spare and took his coffee. “Thanks Callie.” He started walking, leaving her standing alone, face reddening.

I mouthed ‘Sorry’ and followed him. “Her name’s Cassie, Blake.”

He shrugged. “You seem very tuned into emotions. Extra hormonal or something.” He stopped, peering at me closely. “Which must mean...” His lips stretched from ear to ear. “My boy got some!”

I jabbed him with my elbow, heat rushing to my face. “It’s not cause for celebration.”

His face soured. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Jesus!” I snapped. “It wasn’t like that. It was amazing.” When he wiggled his eyebrows, I laughed in spite of myself. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you love it,” he joked, nodding at a couple of new brothers in the frat. I’d seen pictures of what some of them had to go through during Hell Week. Things Blake made them do. I was pretty sure if our places were reversed, the last thing I’d want to do is be friendly with him. But there was just something about Blake Connolly. He could be the biggest dick you’d ever met one minute and the next he was the best friend you’d ever had.

“But seriously,” he said, voice going serious. “I’m glad you two worked it out.”

I glanced over at him, expecting some sort of ‘But...’ tacked to the end. Even though he helped me with my last attempt with Juliet, I knew he thought monogamy was for suckers.

Shockingly, there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm anywhere on his face.

I clapped him on the back. “That means a lot coming from you, man.”

The seriousness dissipated as he made a face. “Alright, Dr. Phil. That’s enough feels for today.” He pointed at the English building. “This your stop?”

“Yep,” I shifted my backpack, headed up the stairs. “See you later.”

“Oh hey, a bunch of us are going to grab drinks tonight,” he called after me. “Since you’re all married or whatever, maybe you can be our wingman?”

My first inclination was yes. I’d never met a night out that I didn’t like. But I was trying to untangle myself from getting trashed every night of the week.

“Maybe some other time.”

“Lame,” he joked, headed in the other direction.

Smiling to myself, I walked in the building. Maybe I was overthinking this too-much-of-a-good-thing business. No way could anything bring me down. I’d sit through this class then head back to my apartment see my girl.