Chapter 85: Cherry on top Sometimes, superheroes can't save everyone. These days, caped figures are often more creepy than inspirational. I would love to be rescued. But maybe a more realistic superpower is, just, surviving. No glitzy rescue or grand display. There's an incredible strength to being able to keep a head above water. Being able to accomplish the extraordinary, with nothing but the ordinary... That's heroic to me. Jake covered his eyes with his left hand as he looked away from us. Charlotte was crying, holding onto her mom. And Luke stood in front of me, his back facing the doorway. He hadn't let his father leave until we got our answers. I stared up at Luke, wondering what I could say. What was there left to say? He came over and kissed away the tears on my hand. His lips tasted my salty tears. With Luke, actions always speak louder than words. Mrs Dawson petted her daughter's hair before standing up. She pressed the creases on her dress and opened her mouth to address us. Then, she decided against it and abruptly walked out. Jake chuckled beside me. "Why are you laughing?" I asked him quietly. Jake lowered his hand from his eyes and looked back at me with a pained smile, "She was about to cover up this mess with some sh*t excuse, before she gave up." Charlotte complained, "Jake, do you really want to go there right now?" "Go where?" Jake asked, "Look around you. We're already here. Dad's owning up to his mistakes, but what about Mrs Dawson? Not a squeak comes out of her. She tore apart a family." "You don't know when to stop," Luke said darkly. "Luke-" "Get it through your watermelon head," Luke laid it out simply, "You can sh*t on my dad because he's your dad too. But you'll respect my mom." "She's the one trying to make this family a family," Charlotte agreed, "She wants you here. It was her idea to bring you, look after you and-" "You know what neither of you realize?" Jake answered, not backing down, "We have the same values there. I also respect my mom... by holding yours accountable for the disrespect she caused. A nice house doesn't make this place a home. I'm f*cking seventeen so I didn't come here by choice." Charlotte had a pained expression on her face, "Why can't this drama ever end?" Jake stood up and walked to Luke. "One more thing," he said, "Call me watermelon head one more time and I'll show you what stitches feel like." Luke smirked. I hated that smirk, like he tempted Jake to even try. Like he was so confident he could take his brother down. Luke raised his hands in fake innocence and said, "Waterm-" "Luke!" I yelled and threw a pillow across the room to stop him. Immature. He caught it with his left hand while Jake stormed out of the room. "I'm out," Charlotte raised her hands in the air, picking up her phone and house keys. She gave me a sad smile and, as she passed her brother, she rested her hand on his shoulder. "We have each other, little bro. Even though you're unbelievably stubborn sometimes." ** With only the two of us in a room, it felt so strange to have Luke on the other side of it. I wanted him close. He was staring out the window with his arms crossed over his chest. Outside, my house was visible across the street. We could see Charlotte walk down the front lawn, step into her car and start the engine. After everything that happened here, I really wished he would just come to me on the couch. It didn't feel right to throw another pillow at him. I tried a more mature approach. "Luke-" "I think your dad may be coming back." His words hit me in a way I never expected them to. Luke's shadow on the wall moved as he turned around to walk towards me. I was impatient and I stood up to meet him halfway. I just needed a moment of calm before we dove back into this emotional pit again. "Hold that thought please," I said, draping my arms over his shoulder muscles and locking them around his neck. I reached up to kiss him, parting my lips to taste his. His hand rose to the side of my face. He held me with his thumb on my cheek, parallel to my lips, and his fingers locked in my hair. His other hand touched the empty belt strap on my pants before reaching further and cupping me. I asked, "What were you saying?" I needed a break. I loved talking to him while we kissed, because as my lips moved over his, I felt how soft they were between mine. Luke gazed down at me and said, "I'm not finished." He kissed me harder. He pulled me up, so my legs wrapped around his waist and he walked us towards the couch, kissing my lips and my jaw. His other hand was somewhere up my shirt and all I felt was a tingling sensation wherever he touched. He brought us both down onto the couch and held both sides of my waist to stop me from falling sideways. He adjusted my position on his lap, one leg on either side of him. His hands lowered to my thighs as he leaned forward to meet my lips with his. He was about to pull his shirt off, when he paused. "Sorry, I need a second to get the image of our dads out of my head." And that killed the mood right there. I sat back and breathed heavily. He was the best distraction from the drama around us. I rolled off him and sat beside him on the couch. He was already leaning back and we both processed how much our dads had scr*wed us up. Luke had his hand against his head and he lowered it, resting it across the sofa's back, behind me. "So, what do you think your dad said to mine?" I asked him, almost afraid to hear the answer. For some reason, it felt scarier to hear coming out of Luke's mouth. I don't know why. Maybe because I trust Luke so much, I love him so much, that it's like hanging on to every word... Luke's head was resting against the back of the couch and he slowly turned to watch me. Who would've known that Luke's quest to help me get answers, brought us back to his own family? "My dad's a narcissist," he said point blank, "He called your dad to make himself feel better about his life. Either that, or he didn't want to feel so alone in his sins." I turned my head to face him as well. We were so close to each other, staring into each other. "Go on," I urged him to continue. "My dad thinks he's atoning for his past by bringing Jake into our home. He's starting a new chapter and, by telling your dad, it may have inspired him to do the same." I felt the tears well up in my eyes again. I hated that I was crying again. I was so sick of crying; it felt like a never ending, heavy stream of tears. Dehydrating. "How do you know that?" I asked him. I don't know why I was asking. Of course, he didn't know for sure. But I wanted sure. I wanted certainty. I'm so sick of the probabilities. Luke's arm that was resting on the back of the couch, slowly reached out and stroked my shoulder. I leaned into him, wanting to feel more of that. "I don't," Luke said, touching me absentmindedly, "But I know my dad. And if your dad listened to my dad about leaving his first family all those years ago..." "He may do the same now," I finished. Maybe. Maybe my dad's coming home. Maybe he's living his best life somewhere. The world is full of possibilities when you don't have much baggage to carry around. "I think I know how Jake feels," I whispered quietly, resting my hand over Luke's wandering one and squeezing it tight, "When the guilt eats at them and they come back to 'do the right thing', we are the objects that make them feel better about themselves. What if we don't want their help? What if we don't want to atone them?" Luke didn't say anything, but he leaned his head forward to watch my face. He gently removed a strand of hair that was covering my eye.