Love, Lucas

Copyright © 2015 by Chantele Sedgwick

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

Cover design by Erin Seaward-Hiatte

Cover photo credit: Shutterstock

Print ISBN: 978-1-63220-417-2

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-63450-003-6

Printed in the United States of America

To Chakell,

who loved this book first.

Acknowledgments

This book is so special to me for so many reasons and there’s no way it could have gotten out into the world without some amazing people by my side.

To my wonderful hardworking agent, Nicole Resciniti, who believed in Oakley’s story and who continues to believe in me.

To my editor, Nicole Frail, whom I adore. Thank you for loving this story as much as I do and for helping me shape it into something beautiful. Thank you also to everyone behind the scenes at Sky Pony. I sincerely appreciate everything you have done for me.

To my fabulous critique partners and best friends, Katie Dodge and Ruth Josse. Thank you. For everything. I don’t know where I would be without you two.

To Jessie Humphries for giving me surfing lessons through Facebook messages and for always making me laugh at your inappropriateness. Haha.

Thank you to the rest of my awesome and hilarious writing group: Peggy Eddleman, Erin Summerill, Kim Krey, Taffy Lovell, Jeigh Meredith, Shelly Brown, Donna Nolan, Julianne Donaldson, Jamie Thompson, and Christene Houston for the writing retreats, sprints, get-togethers, and road trips.

To my beta readers, Megan Park and Michelle Argyle, for your fabulous critiques to make this book better.

To my parents, Robert and Cheri Wardleigh, for always believing in me and supporting me ever since I was a kid, even if my dreams and ideas seemed a little crazy.

To my brother, Braeden Wardleigh, for being my Lucas.

To my sisters, Chaleese Leishman and Chakell Wardleigh, for being my best friends and for reading every single draft of everything I write, even when it sucks.

A huge thank-you to Daniel Sedgwick for answering all of my random medical questions. And the rest of my family who have supported me on this journey, I’m truly grateful.

And finally, to the loves of my life. My husband, David, who told me to chase my dreams and has supported me so much since I started writing so many years ago. I love you.

To my four beautiful and crazy kidlets, Caden, Kinley, Brooklyn, and Beckam, who keep me on my toes and brighten every single day.

And last but not least, to my readers. Thank you for taking a chance on me and Oakley’s story. I hope you love Lucas as much as I do.

CHAPTER 1

Everyone tells me funerals help with the grieving process, but I think those people are full of crap. If anything, they make you more depressed than you already are.

I stare at my brother’s casket as we gather around the gravesite. A few inches of snow covers the ground around us and I shiver at the cold breeze biting at my skin. Dad blows his nose and I glance over and see Mom crying into the shoulder of his coat. I’m not sure how she even has tears left.

I know I’m supposed to feel something. Anything. Relief that Lucas is out of pain. Anger that he was taken so early from us. Sadness that I’ll never hear his laugh or see his smiling face again.

Instead I feel only a hollow emptiness inside my chest. He took part of me with him. I can already feel the hole he left behind, waiting for something to fill it. But I know no one can ever take the place of my best friend.

Mom grabs my arm and gives it a squeeze. She holds out a tissue but I don’t take it. I haven’t cried since the night at the hospital. The night he left us. I know so much emotion is built up inside of me, looking for a chance to escape, but for some reason I can’t, no,
won’t
let it out. Something’s wrong with me.

Dad wraps an arm around my waist. I don’t move. My arms are like weights at my side. Lifeless. Like Lucas.

Mom says something to me and presses a long stemmed rose into my hand. I stare at it and say nothing. I’ve always hated flowers at funerals. They’re supposed to make you feel happy. Not depressed.

People around me move one by one toward the casket and place their roses on top. As I watch them, my fist closes and I crush the delicate petals of my flower into my palm. The maimed rose slides from my fingers and drops to the ground.

I can’t handle this. Everyone is so sad. Red faces, puffy eyes. The world seems to move in slow motion as Dad places his rose on the casket. Mom does the same. My breath catches as I notice everyone staring at me, waiting for me to do something. Anything.

Dad urges me forward to take my turn, but my feet refuse to move. He keeps his hand on my back and I take a deep breath before I look up at him. His eyes are sad as they fall on the pieces of the rose at my feet. He doesn’t say anything about it, just grabs my hand and meets my gaze, but the look he gives me while his eyes fill with tears is more than I can handle. I have to get out of here. I step away from him, take one last look at the casket, and turn around.

“Oakley? Where are you going?” Dad asks.

I don’t answer, just push past him and move through the crowd as my heart hammers in my chest.

Mom calls my name. Dad calls for me, too. I keep walking and don’t look back.

CHAPTER 2

My parents are arguing again. Mom quit her job at the bank. It didn’t go over very well with Dad, who has thrown himself into his job like a madman. I know they’re both grieving in their own ways but they should talk to each other about it, not fight. Fighting gets you nowhere.

I listen to their raised voices for a moment and put on my headphones when Mom starts crying. I can’t handle hearing her sob all night again, so I turn my iPod on and music blasts in my ears. Nothing like a bunch of guitars and screaming to drown out my parents and my own thoughts. If I can’t hear them, they’re not there.

I lie on my bed and stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars that light up the ceiling. Lucas bought them for me for my sixteenth birthday. He even made his own constellation out of them and called it Luca Major. Stupid, but funny. It makes me miss him even more.

The light flips on and I turn my head to see Mom standing in the doorway. I pause my music and sit up.

“Sorry,” she says. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer.”

I shrug. “It’s fine.” My voice is hoarse. It was so hard for me to say those two words. I haven’t spoken since the funeral three days ago, and no one’s really spoken to me either.

She hesitates in the doorway but finally comes to sit on the edge of my bed. “Oakley,” she starts. She takes a deep breath and reaches out to tuck my dark hair behind my ear. I pull away from her touch. After all the time and energy she’s spent on my brother the past few years, it’s foreign to me. “Your father and I have been talking. I’ve decided to go live with Aunt Jo for a while. Maybe just until summer. I need some time . . .” She swallows and blinks back the moisture in her eyes. “I need time away from here for a while.”

“Okay . . .” I say. Great. She’s abandoning me. First Lucas, now her. I breathe in and out. I still don’t feel much. Just empty.

“I wanted to see if . . . well . . .” She smoothes my hair down, and though I consider protesting, I let her. “Honey, I want you to come with me.”

My heart races. “You’re not getting divorced, are you?” I pray she says no. I can’t handle anything else going wrong. Not now. Not when I need at least some normalcy in my life.

She shakes her head. “No. Your father and I are fine. We just . . . grieve differently.” The way she says it confirms that they’re not
fine
. She takes a shaky breath. “Anyway, just think about coming with me, okay? You don’t have to be in school since you graduated early, and you don’t have a job or anything. I think it could be good for you to get away from everything.”

I think about her offer. Even though I’ll miss Dad, I’d love to get away. I could leave my depressing life behind for the spring and maybe heal a little before I have to decide what to do with my life. College and all that crap. I’ll leave my house and put all the memories of Lucas and my old friends and their whispers behind my back. It would be nice to get away from it all. Away from the uncomfortable silence whenever I see anyone who knows me. I know they aren’t sure what to say; I mean, what do you say to someone who just lost her brother? Even if they have something to say, I’m not sure I’d want to hear it anyway.

“Remember, Jo lives in California now, if that makes a difference. Huntington Beach. She has a really nice house with room to spare.”

I crack a smile. It feels strange on my lips but it’s a start. If I go with Mom, I could use my camera again. The thought of taking pictures comforts me. Just a little. I turn toward her and meet her eyes. “Okay,” I whisper.

She puts her arms around me in an awkward hug. I’m not sure what to do with my own arms, so I lift one and softly pat her back. Physical contact has been nonexistent with her for a while now. She’s not the touchy-feely type. We get along well enough, but for her to hug me . . . I’m sure it takes a lot.

“We’re going to be okay,” she says. It sounds like she’s trying to reassure herself more than me. She pulls away, pats my leg, and stands. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning, so you’d better start packing. I’ve already booked the flights.”

I frown. That doesn’t surprise me at all. “So . . . you were going to drag me there whether I wanted to go or not?”

She shrugs. “I think it will be good for you. For us.”

I want to say something else but don’t have the energy as thoughts of Lucas pop into my head again. Instead, I swallow the lump in my throat, give her a quick nod, and she leaves me alone.

Spending the next few months with Aunt Jo might be a good thing. She’s a marine biologist or veterinarian or something, so maybe she’ll distract me with some of her work. And I’ve never been to a real beach before since our family doesn’t really leave the state of Utah. The only beachy place I’ve been is Antelope Island. This tiny island in the middle of the Great Salt Lake that’s covered with mosquitoes, flies, and brine shrimp. As for animals, I’m sure there are a few antelope here and there, but I’ve never seen any. Just a whole lot of buffalo. Antelope Island . . . covered in buffalo. Go figure.