Lukas

“Why does that matter? That’s where I work. I own the building and everything in it. Do you know how bad I’ve always wanted a unique place like that? Me finding it when Vandal and I were looking for a place for the shop was a friggen’ miracle.”

“I know . . . and it’s a beautiful place. But there’s no yard for Tommy to play in.”

“There’s a park right across the street that we can take him to.”

“There’s also a cemetery right next door.”

He shrugs. “So? It’s not spooky at all. It’s grounding. Where there’s life, there’s death. We can’t hide him from it, Ivy.”

“Don’t you have half-naked women in that place?” I ask him, churning the pros and cons in my head.

“Ivy, I have customers that come in to get tattoos. They don’t come in naked. It’s not a sex club.”

“I don’t know,” I say skeptically. “I’m not sure if it’s a good place for a child to be.”

“The bedrooms are huge, so is the living room. Tommy can teach Ray new words. There’s a finished basement you haven’t even seen, with another bathroom, and it could either be a playroom or another bedroom down there.”

“You have gargoyle statues everywhere. It’s a bit creepy for a little boy.”

He pulls me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “Is that what you think?” he asks.

I lean my chin against his chest and look up at him. “A little bit, yes.”

“Do you want to know why I collect gargoyles?”

“Of course. I want to know everything about you.”

He weaves his fingers through my hair as he talks, making my scalp tingle. “When I was really young, I had nightmares. I’ve always had problems sleeping, like insomnia, night terrors, that sort of thing. My great-grandfather gave me an old statue of a gargoyle and put it on my dresser, and he told me it would protect me while I was sleeping, so I’ve collected them over the years and keep them in the bedrooms.”

Whenever Lukas talks about his past, I want to crawl inside him and find that little boy who still lives there and just hug him. His childhood, although sad, has truly made him the wonderful man he is today. I’ve never met a person with so much depth, who is so in tune with who they are and where they came from.

I wind my arms around his neck and pull his head down to me. “You are an amazing person,” I tell him. “Being with you is like reading a book that I can’t put down, and every page gets better and better.”

He kisses my nose. “Think about moving in with me. I would love to have you and the kids there.”

“Are we really talking about marriage and living together?” Things are happening so fast, but everything feels so right with him.

“Yes, Ivy, we are.”

I let out a deep breath and stare up at him, thinking.

“What?” he asks me. “You have doubts? About me? Still? We’ve been dating for months. ”

I chew my lip and contemplate my answer. “No, not you really. You’re just young. It’s a lot all at once . . . marriage and two kids all of a sudden.”

“You and this fucking age stuff, Ivy.” He shakes his head slowly. “You need to get over it. I’m not a kid. I grew up a lot faster than most guys my age. I know what I want. I’ve wanted to have my own family for a long time. I want to be married. I can take care of you. I have money and a successful career. I don’t fuck around. I love kids, and I love you. I can’t change my age. What do you want to do? Wait until I’m thirty? Thirty-five?”

“No, no, of course not. I want you now. I’m just worried . . . I’ll be forty when you’re twenty eight.”

“So? You don’t look or act thirty-six. You’re cute, you’ve got a great body, and you’re fun. You actually look closer to my age than you think. You have a warped perception of yourself, and you’re stuck on numbers. We get along great, and we want the same things . . . our ages aren’t going to change that. Let it go. I’ve gone slow with you like you asked, but at this rate, I’ll be old and gray myself before you finally just accept our age difference.”

I try to pull away from him, but he holds on to me tightly. “No running away.” It’s a soft command, but I know he’s serious. “Let me be a man, Ivy. You gotta take me as I am or not at all. I’m always gonna be younger than you. Sorry, but it’s true. I’m always gonna have tattoos. I’m always gonna be an artist. I’ll probably always have long hair.” He runs his hands up my arms and squeezes my shoulders. “And I’m always going to want what I want. I want to be married, and I want it to be with you. I know myself. I’m not going to change. I’m not gonna take off with some young chick. Accept that I know myself. Your heart will always be safe with me.”

“You always say the right thing.”

“They’re not just words, doll. It’s all real. You just hafta let yourself accept it.”

God, this man, where did he come from?

IVY

BZZZ

Bzzz

I sit up in bed, my brain foggy with sleep, and reach for my cell phone on the nightstand. Lukas’ name is lit up on the screen. I squint at the blue neon numbers on my digital click—two-thirty A.M.

Grabbing the phone, I swipe my finger across the screen, wondering why he would be calling so late.

“Lukas?”

“Ivy . . .” His voice pitches and cracks. “I need you . . .” He takes a deep shuddering breath, and my heart drops to my stomach. He’s crying.

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” I throw the covers off and turn on the bedside lamp, grabbing my clothes off the chair in the corner.

His breathing is heavy and congested, muffling the phone. “At the hospital . . . there was an accident . . .” He sniffs and chokes. “Oh my God, Ivy . . .” He whimpers my name, agony stripping his voice of its usual deep rasp.

Cold fear rips through me as goosebumps break out on my flesh. “Are you all right? I’ll leave now . . .” I yank my jeans on, cradling the phone against my shoulder.

“It’s Vandal . . . he was in an accident. Katie’s gone . . . Ivy, she’s gone . . .” He sobs into the phone. I freeze, horrified, and grab onto the dresser to steady myself. Katie . . . Oh, dear God, no.

“Sweetie, I’m on my way there. Okay? I’ll be there as fast as I can.” I fight back the tears that well up in my eyes and try to keep my voice level. “I’ll be right there.”

He doesn’t say goodbye, but I hear a thump, as if he just dropped the phone.

I finish dressing as quickly as I can and run to Macy’s room.

“Macy, wake up.” I shake her gently.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” She wakes quickly, and her eyes go wide with worry as she focuses on me in the dark room.

“Vandal’s been in an accident. I need to go to the hospital. You have to stay here with Tommy, all right? Do not leave this house until I come back home.”

She sits up. “Is he okay? Is Lukas okay?”

“I don’t know . . . Lukas is okay, but I need to be there for him.” I can’t tell my daughter that little Katie is gone. How can that even be true? I can’t wrap my head around it. Just a few weeks ago, we all spent the weekend at Lukas’ house while he babysat for Vandal. Macy painted Katie’s nails bright pink with tiny white hearts, and she was so excited. My God, how can this be happening? She’s just a little girl. I cover my mouth with my hand and turn away from my daughter.

“Mom?”

Forcing the tears back, I shake my head. “I need to go. I’ll call you, but please stay here with your brother.”

She nods somberly. “I will. I promise.”

As I get into my car, I realize I don’t even know which hospital Lukas is at, but there’s only one big hospital nearby, so that’s the one I head toward. Hot tears stream down my face as I drive, blurring the road. I’m speeding, but I don’t care; I have to get to him. Maybe I misunderstood him. He was crying and not speaking coherently. I must have heard him incorrectly. Katie has to be fine.

When I reach the hospital, the visitor’s lot is practically empty, but I see Lukas’ Corvette near the main entrance and pull my car in next to it. I’m almost to the glass doors of the hospital foyer when I see him sitting on a bench a few feet away, doubled over, with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. I run to him and drop to my knees on the icy lawn in front of him, wrapping my arms around him.

“I got here as fast as I could,” I say softly, stroking his back as his entire body trembles.

He clings to me, leaning his head on my shoulder. “Oh, God, Ivy . . . I can’t . . .” He swallows hard.

My heart aches and shatters for him, his beautiful soul so broken. “Honey, tell me what I can do for you.” I kiss his wet cheek and hug him to me tighter. “We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

He lifts his head and shakes it slowly, his eyes dark and glazed, seeing things I can’t see. “Katie’s gone . . . Vandal’s hurt pretty bad.” A deep sob robs him of his breath, and he chokes, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “They were in a head-on collision. He had a girl in the car with him, but she’s didn’t make it . . . neither did the other driver.” His eyes finally meet mine. “It’s a fucking nightmare. He’s a mess, but he doesn’t know yet . . . about Katie.” His body shudders again saying her name.

Oh God.

I take his hands in mine. “Is anyone else here? Your family?”

“They’re on their way. I couldn’t see Vandal yet . . . I need a minute. . . . and then I need to go back in . . . they want me to answer questions . . . about them. I just had to get some air.”

I take some tissues out of my bag and wipe his face like I do to Tommy. I feel so helpless. What can I possibly say or do to comfort him?