RAISING SUMMER

PUZZLE PIECES

Luke had nearly finished painting the bar Lucy wanted to watch Summer for a little bit today so we took full advantage of the free day to wrap things up at the bar. Luke wanted me to paint a small mural for the bar. I tried to convince him it was a horrible idea, that I was out of practice but he wasn't having it. Told me to paint whatever I wanted too at least if he'd have told me what to paint I would have some direction. With my paints pulled out of storage I tried to imagine the direction I was going in. I think I'm going to lean into the music aspect of the bar because what else did he want me to paint? Bacardi? I got to work, my eyes only occasionally straying to Luke painting on the far side of the bar, sweaty and shirtless. God was I going to get anything done? I returned to the wall sighing to myself before mixing some paint.

I swear out of the corner of my eye I saw Luke looking over with a soft expression. I was going to mess this up. If I messed this up for him I swear I was going to lock myself in my room for eternity after painting over the evidence of course. I tried to gauge his reaction as my work progressed but he only seemed to look over when my back was turned. Was that a bad sign? God I was going insane overthinking each stroke. I used to be able to lose myself when painting and baking but I also hated people watching me. It made me incredibly self conscious. I paused every so often to look at reference photos, I was starting to get into it, the gnawing feeling in my gut felt like a damper.

Checking on Luke's progress, He was nearly finished. I checked the time on my phone. I had been working for 4 hours. I was about halfway done when Luke came in with some bags.

"Lunch!" He shouted. Startled, I dropped my paintbrush right on the hardwood floor, just missing the tarp.

"Fuck." I murmured to myself rushing down from the ladder to grab it. My shoe got caught on a rung. I fell to the floor hitting my head.

"Jane!" He dropped the bag of takeout rushing to my side. I pulled myself into a sitting position holding my forehead. He pulled my hand away to examine the injury. I hissed as he touched the surrounding area. "Are you okay?"

"Just peachy." I groaned.

"What were you thinking?" He scolded me softly.

"I dropped my paintbrush on the floors. I was worried I was going to ruin them." I explained.

"They're just floors Janey." I gave him a sour look at the nickname.

"I know." I responded.

"It's a small cut, nothing too horrible, can you count how many fingers I'm holding up." He held up finger.

"Twelve." I joked.

"Not funny Jane." He looked at me sarcastically.

"Two." I rolled my eyes pushing his fingers away. He grabbed a clean rag from his jean pocket pulling my chin up and he placed it on my forehead. His green eyes bore into mine it took everything in me not to lean into his touch or get lost in his eyes when he was this close to me. I didn't dare breathe. He pulled the rag away showing me the blood. My stomach roiled as he clenched his jaw.

"No stitches I don't think, but you'll have a cute little scar." He rubbed my cheek softly with the pad of his thumb. "Just hold this here for a little bit." He smiled softly, his features relaxing as he backed away. I let out the breath I was holding as he went to grab the food inspecting inside the bag to see what was lost.

"Is that Hannigans?" I asked.

"You know it! I got your favorite Lemon Piccata Chicken." He smiled and brought the food over to me before plopping onto the floor beside me.

"Oh my God!" I whimpered, grabbing the takeout box and my stomach made a groan in appreciation. "Thank you!" I said with my mouthful of food, my hand covering the hunger induced manner-less mess I was.

"No problem." He chuckled a little flushed. Why was he looking at me like that? I tried to focus on my food. My thoughts ran wild, the way he touched my face, how soft his hands were. How gentle he was with me. How he dropped everything to rush to me. God Jane, think of anything else. I shook my head finishing up my food. A knock at the front door sounded. As Summer, Lucy and her little's ran in.

"Wow this place looks so good!" I went to meet her while picking up Summer.

"Hi baby girl." I grinned, greeting her as she reached for my face.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on her for a little." I smiled.

"Oh she had a blast, the kids could not give her a break from giggling." She chuckled before breaking out into a gasp."

"What happened to your head!" She stepped closer to look.

"I dropped my paintbrush and I fell." I answered as she started rummaging through her purse.

"Is this a common occurrence for her?" She looked at Luke.

"Her parents banned her from playing sports because she couldn't walk 10 feet without tripping." I laughed.

"That's not fair." I protested as Lucy slapped a band-aid on my head.

"Is that a barbie band-aid?" I scoffed.

"Yeah it's still bleeding." I rolled my eyes. running my finger subconsciously over the band-aid.

"Now all three of us are here, how about a picture?" Luke handed Lucy, who jumped eagerly.

"Yes, I'll be happy to take it for you." She gave me a look of encouragement.

"No! I have a child's band-aid on my forehead. I look ridiculous." I shook my head violently.

"Come on Jane!" He reached for my hand pulling me in as I planted my feet. "Please, for me?" His eyes shined brightly, until I relented with a sigh. He wrapped his arm around my waist and settled on my hip. Summer on my other hip.

"Say 1, 2, 3 Luke's bar!" Lucy grinned, noting Luke's hand placement. I felt hot all over but I smiled, hopefully hiding my flushed expression.

"LUKE'S BAR!" We said in unison before Luke retreated to check the photos Lucy took.

"Perfect! Thanks Lucy." Luke smiled.

"Anytime." Lucy smiled politely until Luke turned his back to her and gestured to me and Luke before fanning herself. I rolled my eyes at her.