He pauses long enough to flash me that maddeningly sexy half-smile. “I know.”
I jog after him just as he opens the door to the back seat and rests the crutches on the side of the car. Once he’s sitting in the back seat, I duck my head in and hand him the crutches. I pull my hand back, but Sol snatches it at the last second.
“Feeling everything is better than dying.” His eyes drop to my mouth and mine drop to his, then dart to his bottom full lip. I snag mine between my teeth. He groans, then lets me go. “Night, Gracie.”
“Night.”
Stepping back, I close the door, then watch as the car drives off. The wind picks up, and the back of my hair rises as the familiar smell of rain tickles my senses.
Then I head back to the diner and join my mom.
I walk into the kitchen and find Luke stirring something in a large pot on the stove. My stomach grumbles as the delicious scent of whatever he’s making slams into me. Luke glances over his shoulder, his forehead creased in a worried frown.
“I was beginning to think you’d never come home,” he says, returning his focus to stirring.
Shuffling to stand next to him, I peek at the contents in the pot, and my stomach grumbles. “Smells really good. What is it?”
He shoots me a closed-mouth smile. “Bigos. Polish hunter’s stew. Mrs. Kowalski gave me this recipe to try out. She’s expecting a small sample to make sure I didn’t butcher their favorite food.” He laughs. “She’s already called me three times to check how I’m doing.”
I laugh. “Smells fantastic. I think you’re good.” Stepping back, I open the cabinet above the microwave and grab a bottle of water, then make my way to the breakfast corner.
Rolling the bottle in my hands, I watch Luke move around the small space, humming under his breath. He looks calm as always, catching my eye every few seconds and flashing me a quick I love you, son smile.
And here I am, the calm before a storm. I’m sitting here thinking, I need to talk to Luke because today proved that the possibility of losing Grace turns me into a complete wreck.
“Something on your mind, Sol?” Luke asks, pausing to face me.
My throat feels parched even worse than before. I unscrew the cap from the water bottle and gulp down the contents in one swoop, then set it on the table to meet my uncle’s scrutinizing gaze.
“I lied when I told you I was hanging out with Seth.” His brows furl in confusion, and I realize what I just said. “I mean, I was. We did hang out for a while . . .” I trail off to gather my thoughts.
He folds his arms on his chest. “Okay.”
“We also drove around for a few hours because I was . . . I had to see her. I had to see Grace.” He starts to say something, but I lift my hand to stop him. “Let me just get this out, okay?”
“Sol—”
“I need to say this, Luke. Just . . . let me get it out.”
He studies me for a few seconds, then nods. I take a deep breath. Breathe out.
“I know you’re only looking out for me. Who knows where I’d be right now if it weren’t for you. You took me in and loved me. I’m who I am today because of you. I’m not going to go through the mentor-mentee talk because it’s in the past, and we are moving forward.
“I’m moving forward, which means I get to make my own decisions. And Grace is a part of me moving forward. She’s my friend. You may have noticed, but I’m short on those, so I’m trying to keep the ones I have and not lose them.
“You should cut Grace some slack, Luke. Have you stopped to think how the accident affected her? She can’t sleep. She’s plagued by nightmares. Maybe between the three of us, she’s the one affected the most.”
His eyes widen slightly. “I hadn’t thought of that. How bad is it?”
“Bad enough to make her get help. But that’s beside the point. My point is, she’s my friend. She’s a part of my support system. So please cut her some slack, okay?”
Luke purses his lips and moves his head from side to side. “You don’t think clearly where she is concerned.”
“You’re wrong. My thought process has never been so clear. I know what I want to do with my life. I’m not going to kick her out of it.”
He rubs his palm over his mouth while watching me thoughtfully, then sighs. “I’m not going to fight you.”
I blink at his acquiescence. “Really?”
He nods. “I realize I was wrong to make those decisions for you.”
“Okay. And Grace?”
“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“I guess not.”
We fall silent. After a few seconds, he turns his attention to the stove.
“Hey, Luke?”
“Yeah?” he answers, sounding distracted as he stirs the contents in the pot.
“I’ve been considering getting my own place as part of figuring out my future. Plus, we both need space and privacy.”
My uncle doesn’t say anything for several moments. Then he turns off the stove and faces me. He drags his fingers through his hair. “You want to move out in your condition?” he asks, pointing at my leg.
“Yes, I mean. Not now. Maybe in a couple of weeks. PT is going well so far. At my last appointment, the doctor said my leg is healing really well. If everything goes as planned, Finley and I start working on using only one crutch in a couple of weeks.”
His brows dip slightly in a worried frown. “What about doing basic chores like buying groceries? Cooking? Or driving to your physical therapy sessions. You won’t be cleared to drive for weeks.” He sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to hold you back. I would never want to do that. But I’d worry about you constantly. Plus, I made a promise to your parents to take care of you.”
“I know you’re worried about me. I appreciate it, really, I do. You have been the best father to me since my parents died. If I ever sounded ungrateful for everything you’ve done, I apologize. But I really need to do this. I don’t want to move out without your blessing.”
“This is really what you want?”
“Yes, it is. We could compromise? You could drive me to my PT sessions.”
A ghost of a smile twitches on his lips. “Okay. Let’s get through these next six weeks first. They are the most difficult. After that, I’ll personally chauffeur you to check out apartments.”
“Yeah?” I ask, my smile growing.
He nods. “Yeah. Ready to work on those exercises before dinner?”
I shake my head. “I’ll take a pass.” After spending most of the afternoon cruising in Seth’s car, I’m exhausted. And don’t get me started on the throbbing in my thigh.
He walks over to me and hands me the crutches. “Come on. Ten minutes. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”
He’s right. If I skip today, tomorrow’s workout is going to be complete hell. I learned this firsthand when I skipped a session back in the hospital. My knee was too swollen. Lifting it even half an inch had been torture.
I take the crutches and position them, then navigate my way to stand. Tears spring in my eyes as pain shoots through my leg. I clench my jaw, holding back the scream fighting for release in my throat and hobble toward the living room with Luke in tow, where I sit down on the gym bench he installed not long ago.