The Truth About That Summer

forty-six

"Sorry, Dyl." Luke smiles at me apologetically, his normal good mood restored, perhaps because it's finally Friday. "Feel free to say no if you want to."

Do I want to say no?

I glance between Luke's face and Finn's, who's putting on his best puppy dog expression. I don't mind spending time with Finn.

I toss a couple of Lego's into a plastic bin, giving myself a moment to think.

The truth is, I'm not even sure if I still mind spending time with Luke. Our little babysitting session this week left me more than confused.

I have so much negative emotion bottled up, so much of it directed at Luke, and yet I can't stay away. Maybe it's something about that smile, or maybe it's because he just knows me, really knows me, so well.

Hunter never knew me, maybe that's why it's so easy to say goodbye to him.

It's not like losing a part of myself.

"Please Miss Dylan? Please come fishing with us tomorrow." Finn grabs at the thin sleeve of my shirt, his lower lip jutting out adorably. "Uncle Luke promised to get us hot dogs, too."

"Yum, hotdogs." Luke rolls his eyes, adjusting his baseball cap over his dark hair. "I'm sure Miss Dylan is just dying for a hot dog." He tosses the toddler over his shoulder and winks at me as Finn giggles. "Don't worry about it, Pickle. Finn and I are just fine to go out on our own."

Ignoring the pet name, I lock eyes with Finn, reaching out to tickle him between the ribs.

"Actually..." I surprise even myself, and because of it, I speak only to the child, ignoring the perfect O Luke's lips have fallen into. "I haven't had a hot dog in a very long time."

"Yay!" Finn squeals, smiling hugely at me while hanging upside down.

I grin at his excitement, finally meeting Luke's eyes. They're smiling, twinkling under the fluorescent bulbs.

With a slight cock of his head, Luke murmurs. "So, I guess I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, then?"

I try to downplay my nerves, wiping my sweaty palms on the back of my jeans.

"And I'm guessing bright and early?"

That is when people fish, isn't it?

He nods, his lips curled into a devilish grin. "It's a date."

Holding back an eye roll, I drop a sticky fruit-snack wrapper into the trashbin.

"It's a plan, I'll give you that."

What does a person even wear to go fishing?

The weather is overcast today, perfect for today's activities, but not perfect for my wardrobe. I don't have a raincoat with me, I'm not even sure I own one, and most of my clothing is better suited to warmer days.

Settling on a tank top and denim shorts, in case of bright sunshine, and a lightweight sweatshirt tied around my waist in case I get chilled, I trudge down the stairs and debate calling Luke to cancel.

"My, my." Grams grins from her armchair, her latch hook tucked in her arthritic hands. "Don't you look lovely, Dylan Grace."

Poking my head out from the kitchen, I raise a brow at her skeptically.

"Oh, this little get-up?" I pour the last of the milk into my cereal, wondering if Luke will stop at his parents store on the way home for us. "It sure is something, isn't it Grams?"

Shoving spoonfuls of Cheerios into my mouth, I settle beside her on the loveseat and check the time.

Perfectly on schedule. Damn.

"Oh, hush." She reaches over and pats my hand before her skilled fingers go back to the little bits of string in her lap. "I just meant that I love it when you smile."

Instantly, I become aware of the corners of my mouth, their upwards trajectory, and force them into a frown.

"I'm not smiling."

Grams eyes me in a way that makes me think I might get my eye-rolling habit from her, but shrugs her shoulders anyways. Like it's no big deal. Like she doesn't know just how to push my buttons.

"Okay."

"I just am happy to see Finn today. He's such a sweet kid." It's a flimsy and nearly transparent excuse, but I hope she doesn't push.

Raising a brow, she shrugs again. "He is a cute little boy, that's for sure."

A moment of quiet, her hook gently pulling and tugging string through the right holes, me, munching on my cereal.

And then she chuckles. "Looks a lot like Luke, though, doesn't he?"

"Oh, my God." I groan, standing to discard of my bowl just as there's a knock at the door.

For maybe the first time, I'm happy to be interrupted by Luke Henson.

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