The Summer We Fell (The Summer, #1)(30)

I didn’t even realize he’d walked into the kitchen.

I can’t tell him I was thinking about Danny, that I was thinking about how much I’ve forgotten about Danny. “Nothing. I’m going to start dinner since Donna’s asleep.”

I brace for the derision that’s coming, for the implication that I am now too fancy and useless to make real food. Instead, he gets out a pan and then hunts for the oil.

I wonder what Luke does when he’s not here. I truly have no idea what his life is like—does he cook for himself? Does he have a girlfriend somewhere making him meals?

My guess is Luke is never without companionship for long, but I can’t bring myself to dwell on it.

He opens a bottle of olive oil and frowns as he sniffs it. “This is garbage.”

I hide a smile. You don’t often find a man Luke’s size in a kitchen, mumbling about the quality of the olive oil. “Do you do a lot of cooking?”

His mouth presses into a tight line. “Do me a favor, Juliet, and don’t pretend you care.”

It cuts me to the bone and I look away. Thanks for the reminder, Luke. I don’t say another word to him, and that’s probably for the best.

Donna enters just as we’re finishing up. “Look at the two of you working together.”

Luke and I aren’t even beside each other, but we step apart anyway. Old habits die hard, I guess.

“Take a seat,” I tell her. “It’s ready.”

We carry everything to the table, and Donna frowns, watching Luke load his plate.

“You were right,” she says, turning to me, “when you told me I wasn’t feeding him enough. And there I was, insisting he’d tell us if that was the case.”

God, Donna. Please don’t do this here. Don’t unravel all this in front of him.

Luke freezes, his fork in midair.

“Looking back on it, I can’t believe how blind I was,” she continues. “Obviously you were hungry. You were so much bigger than Danny. I can’t imagine why Juliet had to be the one to tell me.

It’s shocking sometimes, when you look back on what you did or didn’t do, and the things you should’ve known. It seems so obvious now.”

It feels like she’s talking about something much bigger, but she can’t be. If Donna truly knew about the things that were obvious, the things she should’ve known, she wouldn’t allow either of us under her roof.

Luke slowly lowers his fork, his gaze flickering to me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

There’s always been plenty of food.”

She holds the napkin to her lips, her shoulders sagging. “No. There wasn’t. When you first got here, you’d finish everything on your plate halfway through dinner. I told myself maybe it was just the way you were raised, but it wasn’t that. You were so hungry. And Juliet…she kept pretending she wasn’t hungry so she could put half her food back for you. Pretending she’d messed up and made too much of whatever I’d tasked her with.”

He glances at me again, searching my face for the truth. I look down, refusing to let him find it.

“And when all that didn't work,” Donna continues, “she told me I wasn’t feeding you enough. She never asked for a single thing of me aside from the things she asked for you.”

He stares at me as he replies to her. “I don’t know what this is about, but I don’t remember ever going hungry.”

“You don't remember being hungry,” she whispers, “because Juliet started giving me money for you out of what she earned at the diner.”

No. No, no, no. This is nothing he ever needed to learn. Especially not now. God.

“What?” Luke freezes, his voice empty, barely audible.

Donna’s head hangs. “I should never have accepted it. I just didn’t know what else to do.” Tears well in her eyes as she looks at me. “You worked so hard, and put up with so much, and I still took your money.”

I feel Luke’s stare and ignore it, reaching across the table for her hand. “Donna, it was fine. You didn’t have a choice anyway. Let’s be honest, the pastor didn’t want me here and he probably didn’t want Luke here either. You were constantly worried that one small thing would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. What else could you have done?”

Luke shoves his plate away. “I don’t understand. Juliet was giving you money…to feed me? That makes no sense. I offered to pay room and board when I arrived here, and you refused.”

“The pastor didn’t want your money,” she whispers. “It was a pride thing. He was embarrassed to have you think he couldn’t afford you here.”

“But he was okay with taking Juliet’s money?” He runs a hand through his hair, gripping hard. “I made way more than she did and needed it less.”

She exhales heavily. “I didn’t tell him. I spent so much time being scared of his reaction over such small things. I hate that. And I hate that I resent him for them now when he can’t even defend himself.”

Luke turns to me, his eyes dark as night. “How long did that go on for?”

I push my chair from the table. Any appetite I had is gone, and I need to get the hell out of this room. “I don’t even remember. It really wasn’t a big deal.”