“That night,” Lucy continues, “when we were curled up and you were crying, I told you that I had a secret. Do you remember that?”
It’s a little foggy at first, but I do vaguely recall the conversation. I pull back then, looking at my sister as tears glisten in her eyes. “Lucy, what’s wrong?”
“How come you never asked?” she whispers, her voice cracking. “How come you never asked what my secret was?”
The question is so loaded with accusation and pain, I wrap my arms around my sister and pull her to me. “I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I thought you’d tell me when you were ready.”
Lucy sniffles, brushing at the back of my hair with her fingers, shuddering once as she holds back her cry. Then she straightens, touching my cheek lovingly. Like it’s the last time she’ll ever see me.
“What was it?” I ask, seeing the desperation in her eyes. “What was your secret?”
Lucy smiles sadly, tilting her head as if apologizing. “It doesn’t matter now,” she whispers. “I guess nothing ever really did.” Then she stands and goes to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
CHAPTER 19
Lucy’s comment haunts me as I lie in bed. I only vaguely remember the conversation from when we were kids, but my sister has always hidden things. Or at least, hidden her feelings. She’s told me about her boyfriends, about her friends. But our talks were always under a veil of jokes. I wonder what could be going on with Lucy. I’m scared to ask. I’m scared for her.
I fall into a restless sleep, determined to fix my life, fix my sister’s life. And I know the only person who has answers is Marceline. So after work tomorrow, I’m going to her house. And this time I won’t let a guy distract me.
When I wake up, I feel exhausted but anxious to get started. I’m working the morning shift for our after-church rush and opt out of going to my father’s service, telling him I picked up an extra shift to keep my mind off of Harlin. But that’s not true. This is my opportunity to see Marceline.
My father drops me off at Santo’s on his way to church, and when I hug him good-bye, he tells me again that he doesn’t think I should give up on Harlin. I can’t believe he’s actually hoping I get a boyfriend, and by the expression on his face, I don’t think he can believe it either. But in the end, my father just wants me to be happy. So I appreciate him going against all of his fatherly instincts for me.
The OPEN sign buzzes to life in the Santo’s window as I walk inside. I’m punching my card in the time clock when Abe clears his throat from behind me. He’s leaning in the doorway, sipping from a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” he says, smiling. It’s the first time we’ve spoken since he brought donuts the other night.
“You’re in a good mood,” I say, stopping to tie my apron around my waist. I follow Abe into the kitchen, where he pours me a cup of coffee. I thank him as I take it, even if he does make it too strong.
“Missed you last night,” he says, watching me carefully.
I pause midsip, uncomfortable at where this conversation might lead. “Did you work?” I ask, hoping to guide him to safer topics.
“I did. And it was boring and miserable. I didn’t have anyone to entertain me.” He leans close in a mock whisper. “Santo doesn’t flirt back at all.”
I laugh, remembering why I find Abe so entertaining. “Well, I’m here now,” I say. “And I plan to make at least a million dollars over the next two hours. You?”
“Million five.” Abe drains the rest of his drink. “What do you say we go out to lunch later? After all, we will be millionaires.”
My stomach flips. “Uh . . . I can’t.” I don’t dare tell him about Marceline. He’ll realize there’s something wrong with me—or at least strongly suspect I’ve lost my mind.
“Going out with your new boyfriend?” he asks, his expression curious.
I don’t respond at first, focusing my attention on the wall clock, the hand-washing sign. Anywhere but Abe. I’m too humiliated to tell him that I liked Harlin, but he didn’t feel the same way.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Abe offers. “I guess the nice thing to say is that I’m happy for you.”
I look back at him, relieved to avoid the conversation. “Thank you,” I tell him. I start toward the dining room when Abe reaches out to take my wrist.
“Then again,” he murmurs, “I can be quite a bastard.”
“Abe?” I say, my heart skipping a beat. “Let go.”
He looks at my arm, as if surprised he’d touched me, and shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry.” He takes his hand off, holding it up in apology. “What can I say? You bring out the devil in me.”
“That’s not a comforting thing to tell a pastor’s daughter,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. I have no idea how I’m going to continue working with Abe. This is incredibly awkward.
“I don’t know how we’ll keep working together either,” he says, as if he read my thoughts. “I tried to be different with you. And now, well, now you’ve gone and ruined everything.”
“What are—”
Abe tears his dark gaze away and stalks toward the back room. Anxiety immediately begins to twist my stomach, the worry that Abe will never talk to me again. Whether it’s true or not, I feel like I’ve been cruel. I’m not sure I can leave without at least trying to work things out. Maybe salvage some sort of friendship.
I look for Abe, but he’s not at the time clock or the walk-in cooler. On the other side of the room, I notice the back door propped open with a bucket and go to peek outside. I find him there, leaning against the wall.
“Hey,” I say cautiously, sliding out the door. Abe glances over, his apron balled up in his hand.
“What?” he answers evenly.
“I was hoping you weren’t mad at me.” I take a spot next to him on the wall.
“Then that’s your fault for being stupid.”
Ouch. This is exactly the reason why I didn’t want to kiss him that night after camping. He hates me.
“Please don’t be mean,” I say quietly, looking down at my feet. He scoffs.
“You have no idea how mean I can be.” Abe drops his apron and grabs me by the upper arms, swinging to pin me against the wall. I gasp.
“Why are you even out here?” he murmurs, as if he doesn’t quite trust what my answer will be.