Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(77)

“Really? Okay, yeah! I see it! Great rapport with family, check! Well, I think we’re done here, people, so it’s, like, back to the beheadings for me!” She practically skipped off.

A nurse wheeled Colleen into the waiting room. “Someone’s ready to go home,” the nurse said.

“And guess who it is? I’ll give you a hint. It’s me,” Colleen said, pulling a face.

“How do you feel?” Mrs. O’Rourke asked.

“Fine.”

“I’ll stay with you tonight,” Mrs. O’Rourke announced. Lucas tried not to smile as Colleen flinched.

She looked at him. “Um...Lucas can take me home,” she said, and something moved in his chest.

“I’ll take you home,” Connor said.

“Lucas will take me home, bossy-pants. Right, Lucas?”

“Right.”

“The doctor said you need someone to stay with you tonight,” Connor stated.

“Nah.”

“Connor, she wants him to stay with her,” Mrs. O’Rourke said. “So they can make amends.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Connor said.

“No one’s staying with me,” Colleen repeated.

“I’m staying with you,” Lucas said.

“Fine! Lucas is staying with me,” she snapped. “For an hour. Now can I please get going? I want to take a shower.”

* * *

HE DROVE HER to her house and followed her up the stairs to the second floor. There was a note taped to the door.

We walked Rufus. Sorry about the puking. Call me when you get home. xoxox Faith

Added in different handwriting was Next time, use your glove. Levi.

Colleen smiled as she read it.

“You have nice friends,” he said.

“I certainly do.” She unlocked the door and went in, and he followed. A deer walked into the kitchen. Check that. It was her giant dog, who bayed a few times, then aimed straight for his crotch. Lucas wrestled the beast’s head away, which resulted in the dog collapsing as if shot and rolling over on his back.

“Impressive,” Lucas murmured. “You should probably get him neutered.”

“He is neutered. Okay, I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Call me if you need me.”

She rolled her eyes, winced and left the room.

Lucas took a look around. The apartment had high ceilings and tall, narrow windows. The kitchen walls were painted warm yellow, the chairs were red and blue, and it was cheerfully cluttered, pictures on the fridge, a bowl of peaches on the counter, a few catalogs, the dog’s tartan-plaid leash. The living room had a fireplace filled with white birch logs and a nice view of the street. Her furniture was cheerful: a polka-dotted chair and a soft-looking red couch, a coffee table with a small bookshelf underneath.

Family photos, mostly of her and Connor and Savannah, were everywhere. Here was one of her and her cousins, a whole bunch of them. Colleen at age twelve or so on a sailboat. One of Rufus and Savannah, lying on the floor, the girl using the dog as a giant pillow, reading a book. A bride—Faith—hugging her, both of them laughing.

That thing moved again in his chest.

All these years, Colleen had stayed in this little town. She seemed to be friends with everyone—Bryce and Levi and the British guy Tom and just about everyone he remembered from high school. She worked with her twin. Adored her sister, that was clear.

Colleen was tied to this community in a way that Lucas couldn’t imagine. Sure, he was a Southie, but his time away had made him suspect in the eyes of those who’d stayed. He didn’t belong anymore, and that was fine. He’d left when he was fifteen, after all. When he and Ellen divorced, he’d moved from the Gold Coast neighborhood (and where Lucas had always felt like an impostor) to an apartment building near Irving Park.

But even though he knew Chicago like the back of his hand, sometimes he got lost driving home. Not because he didn’t remember how to get where he was going, but because he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to be.

Rufus gave a little moan and stretched out his paws. The dog had to be more than six feet long.

The water shut off in the bathroom, and he heard the sound of the curtain moving. “You hungry, Colleen?” he asked.

“No,” she said, cracking the door a little. “I ate before the game. But I’ll probably lay waste to some Ben & Jerry’s, even so.”

She came out a few minutes later, wearing white cotton pajamas and looking like a freakin’ supermodel.

“Feeling okay?” he asked.

“A lot better.” She checked her answering machine. “Ooh! Sixteen messages, and ten more on my cell. I feel like prom queen.”

Except she hadn’t gone to her prom.

The memory flickered across her face, too. Before he could say anything, though, she pressed the button to listen to her fans expressing their concern.

Her face fell with each message. She checked her phone, too. Then she walked over to her computer, touched a key and scrolled through her emails.

“Well. I guess I can return those tomorrow,” she said. There was a small note of sadness in her voice.

“Come sit down,” he said, taking a seat on her sofa. She did. Didn’t look at him, just curled into herself and stared straight forward.