Devoured: A Novel(54)

What I had said to him earlier about Gram—about her taking the kicks repetitively—that person used to be me.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN





I get the pleasure of seeing the documentary maker again the very next morning. He meets us in the hotel lobby, briefing Lucas on how today needs to go down. He gives me a curious once over and a courteous greeting, but other than that he doesn’t say much to me. As I walk behind them, typing notes on my Samsung tablet and trying not to roll my eyes, it takes a lot of effort not to point out that nothing about this documentary seems very realistic. He’s even prepping Lucas about how to act around his own parents.

And speaking of Lucas’s parents . . .

Biting my lip, I send Kylie a message asking what I should expect. I know this is probably something I should have asked her before, but a few days ago my feelings were nowhere near this strong for Lucas. Something has happened between us, just as he promised. I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of their folks or leave a horrible impression that might last forever.

Because this evening, I plan on accepting the rest of his offer. Aside from rescuing my grandmother’s house—which I can safely say that I’ve done at this point—there’s nothing I’ve wanted more in a very long time than to be Lucas’s.

My cell phone goes off and I check the message from Kylie. Dude, my parents love everyone. They liked my ex-husband, so you can run naked through their yard if you want and still be okay.

A moment later, she sends another message. But really, don’t run through their yard naked.

Feeling a sudden sense of relief, I take Lucas’s hand as he helps me into the limousine that will take us around Atlanta for the day. He holds my hand a little too long, skimming the tip of his thumb over my knuckles. I flush. Stare away.

The documentary creator leans forward, a slow smile forming on his pale face, but Lucas shoots him a look. The cameraman is the last person to climb inside of the limo. Lucas and the creator of the documentary—which I find out is called Rock on the Road—sit on one side of the car, and I sit with the camera guy on the other so I won’t be seen. The whole time Lucas talks about his life growing up in Atlanta, he’s staring at me and not the camera.

“I played baseball—first baseman—at that high school over there my freshman year.” He points out the window at a school on the right side of the street. It’s a private religious academy, much to my surprise. “Took a hit in the balls with a baseball and that shit ended pretty quickly,” he adds, rolling his eyes dramatically for the sake of the camera.

“What about the music? What would you say had the biggest impact on your sound growing up?” the documentary guy presses.

Lucas looks deep in thought, though I have a feeling he’s just pretending. These questions have more than likely been asked by hundreds of reporters in more scenarios than he can count. “My dad. He was a huge Metallica fan. I—uh—may have been in a Metallica cover band with Sinjin and Wyatt once upon a time ago.”

Metallica. I cock my eyebrow at him and he gives me a shrug and a grin.

The limousine slows down to the crawl necessary for residential communities. When we stop, pulling to the curb of a brown and white bungalow, a woman who looks like a pint sized version of Kylie comes out onto the porch, smiling brightly.

By the way she hugs Lucas, pulling him fiercely to her and burying her face into his chest she’s either been prepped by the documentary creator as well or Lucas goes home just about as much as I do. I’m leaning towards the second and wondering what kind of past he has here. By the obvious affection he has for his mom and the adoration he showed when talking about his dad in the limo, I don’t think he feels anything other than love towards his parents.

“Where’s Kylie?” she asks as I take off my beanie and sunglasses and take a seat in their cramped sitting room on the piano bench. “Is she at the hotel?”

“She had an emergency trip to take care of in California,” Lucas explains easily. He winks at me. “Don’t worry, Ma, she’ll be here for Easter.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. His Georgian accent seems to magically appear when he’s with his mom. Plus, I think it’s sexy as hell that he’s almost 29 but respects his mother enough not to tell her his sister is partying in New Orleans.

Mrs. Wolfe is just as kind and charming as Kylie, speaking to the camera with a natural ease as she boasts about her kids. Lucas’s dad shows up halfway into the filming. He’s got on a sweaty golf shirt, but he hugs me when I introduce myself as Kylie’s temporary replacement.