Monday morning, around ten, Luke's phone rang from where he had left it in the kitchen. I watched him consider ignoring the call before he forced himself off of the couch. I paused the show on the TV. I heard the phone ring again followed by a loud,
"OH MY GOD!" before Luke answered the phone ecstatically. "Hello?" He breathed. I'm sure a voice spoke back to him. "Is it really you?" He asked, his voice that of a child's. He was talking loud but breathily. He murmured a few 'sures' before taking the phone call up the stairs and disappearing into his bedroom.
When he came back out fifteen minutes later, he was still bubbly. He scampered down the stairs and plopped onto the opposite side of the sofa from me. He leaned back for a moment, smiling.
"Who's got you all excited?" I asked. He looked at me, his eyes no longer dull but sparkling. Normally I had to search his gaze to find that spark.
"My mom." He breathed. "She hasn't called in so long. I helped her get out of reach of your dad when she trusted me enough to leave. I haven't heard from her since then." He said, running out of air after rambling through his sentences. "I explained some of the situation to her and Mum really wants to meet you." He said. I gave him a look. "She's an angel." He told me. "You'll like her, I promise." I guess I didn't seem fully convinced yet. "If not I'll buy you Starbucks." He told me, obviously confident. I held up my finger.
"Now you just hold on." I teased. "You still owe me Starbucks from when you didn't believe me about Zayn Malik being the first to leave One Direction and you bet me a large Starbucks that it was Niall Horan." I reminded him. Luke piped down for a moment before continuing.
"Alright so I won't buy you Starbucks. But you get my point." He grinned. "She's coming in two weeks."
"Where is she now?"
"New Zealand." He answered.
"You weren't kidding about relocating her." I said.
"I wanted her away from Mr. Rose."
"Luke, you're a 'Mr. Rose.'" I reminded him gently.
"Only on paper."
"What was your father's last name?"
"Carter."
"Lucas Carter..." I murmured, playing around with the name.
"How do you know my full name is Lucas?" He asked.
"Is it?" I retorted. He nodded timidly. I grinned and he snorted playfully.
YOU ARE READING
Stepbrother (Sequel to Stockholm Syndrome)
Ficción General"I just want you to know how terrifying it is to have no control. Like, physically, no control over what happens to you. Nothing. Being at the mercy of someone else's hand." The look he gave me was glazed over with pain. "The thing is, you aren't th...
