“Must be my day for clumsy,” I mutter, relieved when the words come out fairly steady.
From the corner of my eye, I see Luka set his bag down inside the front door and turn to watch me, his expression neutral. He’s better at the reacclimation thing than I am. No surprise. He’s had more practice. Even so, he leans one hip against the porch rail like he could use the support.
Does he know about Jackson? Has he seen his eyes?
I suspect the answer to both questions is no. I can’t believe Jackson let me see them, and I have no doubt that he did let me. He could have stopped me from pulling his glasses off. He could have caught my wrists or turned his head, and the fact that he didn’t means he wanted me to see. Why? Why? I didn’t get a chance to ask. He ripped out the wires and tubes, and we made the jump while I was still gasping in shock, and I think that he planned that, too. Maybe I’m giving him too much credit, but I really believe what he said about steering his nightmare. I think he’s a master at it.
And even if I had managed to get my questions out before we got pulled, I’m skeptical he would have offered answers. He’s the king of evasion, telling me only the tidbits he wants me to know.
At least now I know why he’s always wearing shades, and the bizarre thing is, I’m shocked but not shocked. As I think about it, it’s like somewhere deep down, I knew exactly what I’d see. Didn’t he keep warning me that he isn’t a good guy?
A can rolls away, toward the grass, and I crawl after it. To my horror, Dad gets there first and squats down. His eyes meet mine as he lifts the can. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “He’s just a boy. Just be yourself. It’ll be fine.”
I stare at him, my brain struggling to catch up to his words. Then I get it. He thinks my weird, clumsy behavior is because Luka’s standing on my porch. Carly was so excited because she thought I was crushing on Luka. Now Dad has that same hopeful/pleased expression. Like he thinks that being interested in a boy will make me normal again. I bite my cheek to keep from laughing because I have a feeling that if I start, I won’t be able to stop, and it won’t be pretty.
When I nod, Dad offers a reassuring smile, then hands me the can, straightens, and says, “I’ll let you two finish the groceries. I have some work to do.” And off he goes.
As soon as the groceries are put away, I manage to get Luka out of the house without another Dad moment.
“You okay?” Luka asks.
I try to hold it back. I fail. I tip my head back and laugh. It’s the sort of laugh that makes other people cringe and look away. I know I’m at the very edge, but I can’t seem to pull myself back.
“Look at me, Miki.” Luka takes my hand in his and weaves our fingers together, and that’s enough—just barely enough—to steady me and keep me sane. With a last few weepy giggles, I get myself under control.
“Well, that was embarrassing,” I mutter, purposely ignoring his directive and looking anywhere but at him.
Wiping the tears from my eyes with the back of my free hand, I walk down the driveway to the end. Luka circles me so we end up facing each other, my back to the house, his to the street. He’s still holding my hand and I slowly pull free, wanting to keep it together all on my own. I can’t start depending on anyone else. It’s me and only me. I need to remember that.
“The first few times I got pulled—” Luka’s eyes slide from mine, and he turns his head and looks off down the street, his jaw clenched tight. “The first few times I got pulled, I was a mess when I came back. I stood under a hot shower for hours, shaking and”—he pauses—“crying. There was no one to talk to, no one to help me understand. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you, shouldn’t have made you go through it alone.”
I don’t remind him that I wasn’t completely alone, that when I was freaking out over Richelle, Jackson was there for me. At the moment, I’m not even sure how I feel about that, about him. One minute I think we have some sort of connection, that he cares about me. The next, I see that his eyes are Drau gray, and I’m left thinking he’s my enemy. I open my mouth. I almost blurt out what I saw. Instead, I say, “It’s okay. You were just following the rules.”
He offers me a lopsided Luka smile. “Rules are made to be broken, right? Anyway, I want you to know, I’m here. You can talk to me. I’ll answer as best I can.”
“Will you?”
“I just said so.”
“Okay. Then I do have a few questions.” More than a few, but only one is digging at me like a dentist doing a root canal. “Have you ever seen Jackson without his glasses?”