Method

“Do your worst, Hollywood.”

Once he’s buckled me inside his truck, he leans in on the frame.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never been in love like this, I’ve never felt so helpless to someone else. I have to admit it’s hard for me to let go of control.”

“Can’t you see you have the same power over me?”

“It’s just hard for me to let go.”

“Because you’ve been hurt?” I ask, my words stuttered as a delayed hiccup escapes me. He winces when it happens and slides the back of his hand down my cheek. “I guess I freaked out. I didn’t ever want you to know.”

“Lucas, just because you aren’t well-versed in art or wine, it doesn’t make you not suitable. I meant what I said, you’re one of the most intelligent men I know.”

He leans in and kisses me, thoroughly before shutting the door. We ride in silence for a few minutes before he speaks up. “I was raised in the outskirts of a town in West Virginia, I told you some of it, but not really the truth. My father did odd jobs to pay the bills but mostly left during the day to get drunk with his buddies. My mother worked at a gas station. To my parents, I was both obligation and nuisance. My dad lived for NASCAR, and my mom lived for my dad. They fought and fucked, and neither was pretty. We lived in a trailer with thin walls and a leaky roof. I slept on the same lumpy twin mattress for sixteen years. I was the kid everyone avoided because I was poor.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“My mom slapped me around a little, but it wasn’t anything I still lose sleep over. She did do it once at school, and that stuck with me. Maddie, she was the one who gave me a mother’s love…” he fumbles a little with his words and I can tell it pains him. “She’s the one who showed me what a mother was supposed to be like, as reluctant as she was.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I had Maddie. I think the universe interjects people in your life for a reason, brief or otherwise, to make up for a few shortcomings, to help make sense of things you can’t figure out.”

“But, Lucas, you can’t just make decisions for the both of us.”

“I know.”

He drives in silence for a few minutes, and before I know it, we’re parked at a duplex.

“Where are we?”

“My place.”

I turn in my seat. “I thought you lived at a hotel when you weren’t working?”

He blows out a breath. “I lied.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re about to see, come on.”

To say the outside of the town house is meager is an understatement. He guides me through a small fence, and I can see the courtyard is well taken care of, in fact, it’s beautiful. “This is lovely,” I remark, looking at the lush green yard.

Lucas nods. “Denny does a good job.”

“He seems like a really nice man.”

“He owns the town house. I give him extra for yard work.”

“I’m confused,” I say, pausing on the porch as he pulls out his keys.

“I know.”

“I mean this is nice, but it’s…can’t you afford more? You’re renting?”

“Money talk is rude,” he says with a wink.

I swallow. “Sorry.”