My Lucky Days: A Novel (5 page)

“But she still called you Lucky,” I whispered.

“Yeah.” We both had stopped eating as his heavy words hung in the air. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually share all of that on a first date. But well, you asked and I didn’t know how to explain it without telling you the truth.”

As I looked at this guy, I pictured the boy from the story. I bet he was adorable at two. How could someone do that to him?
To a little boy.
It made me sick. And it made me like his mama without ever speaking a word to her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. In the end, I had a good life with people who wanted me.” His eyes flickered with emotion for a second before he cut it off with a grin. But something about that smile was different than his others. A little sad, maybe.

His hair fell across his forehead. I wanted to reach up and touch those messy strands to see if they felt soft between my fingers. And for a second, I was afraid that I might actually do it.

Instead, Lucky reached across the table, taking my hand. His thumb had a cut right above the nail and his knuckles had a few scabs across the top. And underneath, I felt calluses rubbing against my skin.

Complete imperfection that felt like perfection as he held my hand.

The waitress came over, clearing the table next to us. And a loud group of people walked in the front door. But I didn’t look in their direction.

Instead, I was drawn into the bubble that was slowly starting to surround us as our eyes met again. It turned into one of those strange moments that I’d seen happen with Skylar and Dylan, where they stared at each other without speaking while lost in the mere presence of the other person.

“So I didn’t realize we were on a date.”

“Well, I’m not buying tots and ranch for someone and not calling it a date.”

“Fine. It’s a date.” I laughed, trying to shake the feeling that had settled in my chest. I liked the fact that Lucky considered this an actual date.

After we left the restaurant, I directed him to my house. The lights were off as he pulled the old truck in the driveway.

He was out of the driver’s side before I could say anything. I opened my door to find him standing next to it. I wasn’t sure what he assumed was going to happen, but I was not letting him come inside the house. “So um . . .”

“I’m walking you to your door.”

“Oh.” We continued down the sidewalk, stopping next to the three steps leading up to the house.

We stared at each other for a moment before he grinned. “So what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Well, since it’s already three in the morning, I’m probably going to sleep till noon and then work on some homework.”

“The sleeping till noon part sounds nice. I’m working for Colt tomorrow.”

“Do you normally do that after a show?”

“I try to do what I can when I’m here. It makes up for the time when I’m playing out of town. But he likes to start early, which makes it rough.”

“You should probably get home then.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “So can I call you or something?”

I looked into his brown eyes, full of sincerity. And something about that look made me do something crazy and impulsive. The nervous energy coursed through me like a lightning bolt as I stuck my fingers down into his front pocket.

“Whoa!” He jumped. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

I grinned, pulling out his phone. “I know. Just trying to keep Mr. Self-Assured on his toes.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m already regretting that I said that to you.”

After adding my number into his contacts, I handed his phone back to him. “You really should have a passcode on that thing. You never know when some crazy fan is just going to walk up and yank it out of your pocket.”

“Are you
always
like this?”

“No. Not really.” My smile drifted slowly away. He brought this side out of me. The flirting and the easy banter. I wasn’t sure how to explain that little fact to him. I was far from this person. But I liked this person. The one who appeared when I started talking to him. It felt good. “I hope you haven’t gotten the wrong idea about me tonight. I’m usually less spontaneous . . . and um . . . glamorous.”

“Katie, I’d like you even if you wore one of those teacher sweaters. Like the ones with the snowmen all over it. Or cats. You could have one of them, and I wouldn’t care.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I don’t have a cat sweater. But thanks for not caring. And thank you for dinner.”

“I had a good time tonight, Katie.”

“Me too.”

I shivered in the cold air. I needed to go inside. “Well, bye.”

“So, no good-night kiss?”

I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or serious. “You might get one next time if you actually call me.”

But the thought of his lips warmed my freezing body. I really did want to kiss him. Before I changed my mind, I turned around quickly and went up the steps. As I closed the door, I caught one last glimpse of him as he waited for me to get inside before leaving.

I walked through the quiet house, seeing the bedroom doors shut for both of my roommates. I knew tomorrow would be full of a hundred questions from both of them. Closing mine softly, I went to the bathroom and took a shower, scrubbing all the remaining pieces of my costume from my face.

Wrapped up in my covers, I tried to fall asleep, but nothing was working. My mind kept replaying the night over and over again. I kept thinking back to little pieces of my conversation with Lucky. He was funny and sweet and a complete mess. But that voice. Good grief. The boy could sing. And that smile. And that hair.

My phone dinged on the nightstand. Leaning over, I saw an unknown number displayed across the screen. My stomach got a quick rush of flutters as I opened the message.

A thousand minutes may pass.

And a hundred thoughts may come.

But all of those disappear.

When I’m sitting in the sun.

Staring into your green eyes.

Watching them change with your smile.

I read the text a couple of times before I realized the words he sent were song lyrics. The memory of his voice filled my head. I stored his name into my phone and then responded.

M
E:
It’s not the same if I can’t hear you sing them.

And then my phone suddenly came alive. I sucked in a deep breath.

He was calling.

I answered, holding the phone to my ear without saying anything. And then I heard just Lucky without any music. His voice, deep and soulful as it filled the quiet night, as he continued with his song.

When he finished, I smiled in the darkness. Lucky was unlike anyone I had ever met. He was impossible to resist.

“So do you sing to all the girls on the phone?”

“No, just lonely kittens.” He laughed.

“Oh,” I whispered as my heart beat faster.

And then I heard his voice again. “Does this count as calling you?”

My breathing picked up at the subtle meaning to his question. “Yeah, it counts.”

“Good. But I’ll still call you tomorrow.” He sounded sleepy. “Night, Katie.”

“Good night, Lucky.”

And after he hung up, my screen filled with words again.

L
UCKY:

A glimpse of your smile

Won’t be enough.

’Cause my heart keeps telling me,

I need more of this stuff.

I
woke up a little after ten, but I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t immediately get up. Instead, I stayed in that sleepy haze that existed somewhere in the middle, where my thoughts roamed free without any control.

Last night.

Lucky.

I had never done something that impulsive when it came to a guy. I’d gone on some innocent dates in high school before I met Chase my freshman year of college. Our relationship had moved like a snail in a rat race. We had sat next to each other for two months in American History before he ever asked me out.

Chase had been sweet. Safe. Practical. He took me out on predictable dates. And touched me in all the predictable ways and had sex at all the predictable times. It had felt good. I never complained. And I had never worried about him—even the late nights that he spent with his study groups.

We eventually broke up last summer when he left for medical school in Portland. And even the end of our relationship was practical. It had made sense. We both knew it.

I missed him sometimes. But I was used to people leaving. The only difference, I was usually the one doing the leaving.

I opened my eyes, seeing the same room with the same view out of the same window. Familiar contentment. I never got tired of that feeling—morning after morning.

When I arrived in Stillwater, I had lived in twelve places in eighteen years. Seven towns. Three suburbs. Two cities. Four elementary schools—or was it three? Two middle schools and three high schools. I was certain of that one.

The rest of my memories were often scattered. I couldn’t remember what city I learned to ride a bike. I just knew that it was pink with glitter stars across the seat. We had a real Christmas tree one year. It smelled of winter and spice. I think that was in Kentucky.

The first boy I ever kissed was named Will. His lips were slightly chapped and he smelled of Juicy Fruit gum. That was in either Cincinnati or St. Louis. I never could keep those two places straight.

My father was a corporate vice president for an elegant restaurant chain called Benton’s. He was in charge of evaluating the different locations, which required him to be onsite in the city. I guess he had options. Have a home base that he saw for a few days a month or relocate.

He chose to relocate, over and over again.

Not something a guy with a family should do as a career, but my parents didn’t really operate like people who had a child.

Corporate would give my father a new location, and then we made the move to the new place. He would spend the next several months overseeing the current management, looking over the finances, firing people, hiring people, educating more on waste and cost and profit.

As the CEO always raved, my father had the magic touch when it came to the restaurants. He was very good at his job. My family always stayed in a place just long enough for the improvements to take effect.

Just long enough for me to meet people. Just long enough for me to feel the griping sadness when I had to say goodbye. And sometimes I didn’t even try to meet people, knowing I was just going to leave again.

My parents were the only constant in my life. And once I got old enough not to harm myself while alone, they usually just left me at the house while they went out with their friends. It was exciting for them. A constant change of scenery as they fulfilled their wanderlust of new people and new places. They never seemed to notice that I didn’t handle the transitions very well.

I’d come to the conclusion pretty early in my life that my parents didn’t really want kids. I wasn’t neglected. I had clothes and food. But when I got older, I realized other families were different. Mine lacked something. I eventually realized it was warmth. And without warmth, a person felt a little cold on the inside.

That had been my life as a kid. A lonely existence, but the only one I had ever known. I learned to pack a box before I could tie my shoes. And best friends were something I saw on TV. I never kept anything sentimental because it only took up space when we had to leave. More to unpack. More to repack.

The day I pulled up in front of the dorms, I had stared at the brick building for a good ten minutes before getting out of the car. I was the new girl again. The feeling had always caused nervous jitters.

I watched the students, rushing around in every direction, pushing carts of clothes and struggling to unload truckloads of their belongings.

And then it hit me. For once in my life, everyone was starting over in a new place.

Everyone was like me.

That day had changed my life, something I had desperately needed. For the first time, I was unpacking, knowing I was staying in the same town for at least four years, which was longer than any other place I had lived growing up. It gave me a feeling of peace, a sense of belonging.