The Truth About That Summer

forty-eight

Finn fills the hour or so we spend eating our lunch with mindless chatter, telling us a story that has no clear beginning, middle or end, but rather a whole string of unrelated thoughts and dialogue thrown in whenever he feels like it fits.

I'm pretty sure I overdo it, seeming a little too interested in the story to get my mind off of what he said earlier, about me being Luke's best friend.

Every now and again, Luke raises a brow at me, his forehead crinkled in confusion over why on Earth the name of the penguin in the story is so important to me.

I try my best to ignore his looks, how he knew to bring me mustard for my fries, not ketchup, and how even though I pretended to forget about our date here, he still bought me a damn chili dog.

Even when I do my best to forget, to shove it down somewhere deep inside, Luke still remembers.

Then, Finn's story hits a lull as he becomes a little eating-machine, shoveling in french fry after french fry without pausing for a breath before we have to leave.

"He really is just like you," I murmur without realizing, shaking my head in amazement.

"What's that?" Luke asks, tossing a dirty napkin onto the table, his own tray of fries empty except for left over salt and condiments.

"Nothing." I catch myself quickly, forcing a smile as Finn looks up at me, bright, red ketchup streaked across his chin. "He's got quite the appetite, huh?"

Luke chuckles.

"For fries, yeah." Making sure he's got his keys and wallet, he looks across the picnic table at us. "Are we ready to go? Finn, remember you have to eat all the carrots Granny gives you tonight with dinner, too. Just like you ate those fries. Or she'll yell at Uncle Luke for letting you eat too much of the good stuff."

"But I hate carrots," Finn whines, his little arms already reaching up for my hand as I un-stick my thighs from the painted wooden slats.

Taking it and giving Luke a mischievous grin, I nod. "Me too, Finn. Me, too."

"See?" Finn gazes between the two of us, his curls lifting from his forehead as the breeze rolls in with the tide. "I don't have to eat them if Miss Dylan doesn't."

"Says who?" Luke scoffs. We're back at Luke's truck and he swings the boy into his arms to get him into his carseat. "Miss Dylan is an adult. She can do what she wants."

I hear the undertone that Finn can't understand and the pleasantness of our morning fades some.

What the hell does that mean?

But when I try to look at him, to catch his attention and question him, he conveniently avoids my stare.

The entire way back to his house.

Choosing to ignore his uncharacteristic silence, I stay seated as he unbuckles Finn from his car seat, the truck groaning over the gravel driveway.

"Hm?" Luke's voice is deep and low as Finn giggles into his ear. I watch them from the rear view mirror, averting my eyes too late when Luke looks to me.

"Why don't you ask her?" He murmurs, clutching Finn to his side as the boy hides his face with his hands.

Finn says something I don't catch and I try to appear as though I'm not listening, staring intently at the slightly pink scar on the back of my ankle, left from my blister earlier this summer.

Luke's voice again. "She'd probably say yes to you before me, buddy." A pause. "Fine, okay. I'll ask."

Then Luke is peering through my window, Finn shyly peeking through his fingers at me.

"Finn wants to know if you want to join our movie night." Leaning in and adjusting so Finn can't see his face, he lowers his tone. "I think he's got a c-r-u-s-h, Miss Dylan."

"Oh," I murmur, taken off guard.

Is he the only one?

Looking from Luke's smirk, the dimples that just... get to me, and back to Finn, his forest green eyes peering through chubby digits, I lose control of my voice. "I could stay for a movie."

Brows raised, Luke nods, pulling my door open, too. "Well, all right then. Hear that bud, Miss Dylan will watch a movie, so you better make it a good one. Why don't you start thinking about it, and I'll race you to the top of the stairs?"

Luke sets the boy down and immediately he takes off, into the open garage and up to the studio, leaving just Luke, myself, and his weirdly quiet mood.

Feeling his eyes on me, I look up, careful not to trip on the patio into the garage.

"What're you looking at?"

Eyes narrowed, Luke ignores my question. "You don't have to do this."

"I know." I chew the corner of my lip, the taste of iron bitter on my tongue, the guilt swirling deep in my belly. "I'm here for Finn."

At this point, I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince anymore. Or if it's worth still trying.

But I also can't just let it go. I can't.

"Don't worry, Dyl." Luke sighs, that cutting undercurrent in his voice again as he lifts an arm, allowing me up the stairs first to where his nephew is bouncing up and down waiting for us. "There's no confusion on this end about who you're here for."

wow guys I'm sorry it took me so long to get back into updating this story. thank you all for your patience as I dealt with some personal business + finished up my Closer to You series.
I'll be back to updating more consistently here, so stay tuned for more!
as always, hit me in the comments with your thoughts!
sending love ❤️