Luke fell silent. He didn’t move.
I looked down at my lap. The words didn’t want to come, but it was time. Elijah was right. I had to tell him and hope he’d come back to me. So I started, “What your dad did was my fault.”
He said one word.
“Explain.”
That was it.
I took a breath and started, “I was coming home from school. I remember being so jealous. Candy and her friends had been talking to you. She was flirting with you, and I thought you were flirting back. In hindsight, you were just talking to her, but it still hurt, so I left without waiting for you or Braden that day. But anyway, he was there when I walked past the street before our block, waiting in his car.” My fingers curled inward, latching onto the others. “I should’ve run or screamed or something, but he told me to get into the car, and I did.” My eyes squeezed shut as I remembered the sound of his deep baritone voice and how commanding he spoke. I obeyed him without question. I felt the chill of the leather seats, and the cold air blowing across my face again. “It was my dad, Luke.”
He stiffened, becoming a statue.
“I need you to do something for me,” had been the first words he’d said to me.
“Earlier in the day, he had driven to your house to see your dad, but he hadn’t been there,” I said.
“Fucking Garrett owes me money. He’s not here. He’s playing cards at Oiley’s right now, so this is what you’re going to do for me.” He pointed at the house. “You’re going to go in there. And don’t tell me you don’t know how to sneak in. I know you do. You and that kid are always sneaking into each other’s rooms, been doing it since you were tiny. So, you’re going to break in and go to Garrett’s office.” He stopped talking and leaned closer. His eyes grew even more determined, and an ugly gleam appeared—one that drenched me in a cold sweat. He said, “In the office closet is a back wall. You can slide it to the side, but you gotta press it in. When you feel it move, slide it to the left. That’s where he keeps all his money.”
“H...h...how much?”
“Huh?” he snapped out.
“How much do you want me to take?”
“All of it. Duh.” He gestured to the house again. “Get going, before your little boyfriend comes home looking for you.”
I couldn’t move. It felt like a hand had been plunged into my chest and took hold of my heart in an ironclad grip.
“Bri!”
I jumped in my seat.
“Go. Get this done.”
My hands were shaking, but I moved on autopilot. Climbing out of the car, I shut the door and then leaned against it for a moment. I closed my eyes. My hands were behind me, gripping the door handle. I wanted to go back in, but I couldn’t.
“Bri.” He pounded on the door, yelling from inside the car. “Get!”
I jerked away as memories of those fists hurting my mother played in the forefront of my mind. I bolted toward the house as if he had hit me right then and there. The closer I got, the more I felt myself leave my body.
“It was easy, actually. I snuck in through your window, and everything was how he said.” My mouth was so dry. “I was the one who robbed your dad. I took the money—”
“He blamed me.” Luke’s voice was painful. It was hoarse and so quiet. “He beat me when I kept denying it. I was in the hospital for a week, Brielle.”
I never went to the hospital. I couldn’t see him that way. “It was my fault.”
“That’s why you went to Elijah?”
My head moved up and down, but it didn’t feel attached to my body. “I’m sorry, Luke. I’m so sorry.”
The room was so tense, and I was afraid to look at him. I was afraid to do anything. He was going to leave. I knew it. I’d be kicked out of the band, and I’d never be with him again. I was going to lose Luke, but it had been right to tell him. Finally.
He stood up; I still didn’t dare look at him, but I heard him pacing. When he spoke, there was an anguished tone to his voice. “I wanted to talk to you tonight because the two people you saw me with are from a record label. Peter and Priscilla Montley. They’re twins, too. They came to hear us play. They’d like to manage us, and if we sign with them, they’ve promised us a record deal. We’ve all discussed it, and the guys are in. You’ve been so busy I haven’t had the chance to tell you about it until now.”
My hands were shaking.
He added, “You lied to me, Bri. Three years. I can’t—he had beaten me before, but this—you lied to me. I can’t…we’re going to Los Angeles tomorrow.” He paused a split second, and then rasped out, “But not you. I don’t want you to have any part of this. I—”
He left.
I waited for him to slam the door shut, but it didn’t come. The door was left hanging open as he walked away.
It was over.
They left the next morning. Braden had been the only one to say goodbye. My mom asked later if I had said my goodbyes earlier because I wasn’t outside when they picked up Braden. I couldn’t answer her. I didn’t want to see the judgment in her eyes.
Four months later, I was trying to shove my way through a crowd of girls to grab a drink from the kitchen. When I got there, I heard a girl squeal, “Hubba hubba! Luke Skeet is going to help me birth my babies.”
I whipped around. The crowd of girls were surrounding something. Moving to get a better look, I saw an iPad with a YouTube clip playing. I couldn’t see what was on the clip, but hearing the excited squeals, the bottom of my stomach fell out. They were watching my band.
Her friends laughed, and another said, “Shut up. He’s my future husband.”
“I heard they’re from Grant West.”
“No way?! Are you serious? Isn’t that clip in Nebraska?”
The first girl spoke, nodding like she was close to the band, “It is. My cousin used to watch them play at some bar there.”