Page 115 of Falling Together

Who I’ve aptly started calling Potato—only to annoy her. Sometimes, she makes it too easy.

I chuckle to myself, wiping the sweat from my brow as I line up another section of wallpaper.

“Hey, Dad. Can I talk to you?”

Luke is standing in the doorway, looking nervous.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Can we talk about maybe me going back to LA?”

“Is something wrong? I bought your plane ticket for Thanksgiving next week.”

As much as I hate that he won’t be here with me, at least I’ll have Georgia.

“I mean, maybe staying longer. Like moving back permanently.”

“What?” My stomach drops. “Why?”

He shrugs, leaning on the doorframe. “I’ve been talking to my friends back home, and now that Mom isn’t traveling, I want to go back.”

“I thought things were going well here,” I say.

“They’re fine, but it’s not home.”

“You have friends here.” I scrub a hand down my face. “You’ve been happy.”

“I could go back to my old school. Be with my old friends,” Luke says. “I already talked to Mom, and she said she’d pay you back for my flight.”

For fuck’s sake, Kari. She couldn’t even give me a heads-up this was coming?

“I’m not worried about the money. You live here. With me.”

“But the whole reason I came here with you was because Mom was traveling,” he says, fidgeting with his hands. “I know people at my old school. What’s wrong with wanting to go there?”

“Nothing, but…” I blow out a breath, not quite sure what to say. “I want you to be happy, Luke.”

“And I’ll be happy in LA.”

“That means you won’t be happy here?” I argue.

“Well, it’s not like I wouldn’t be happy, but I’ll be happier at home.”

Home. He keeps calling LA home. I thought I made a lot of progress. Between making friends and hanging out at the ranch, I thought he was happy.

I guess I was wrong.

“Besides, you’ll be busy with the baby,” Luke says.

“Is that what this is really about?” I ask. “You’re not getting replaced. You know that, right?”

“I know. But you’ll be busy and he’ll be crying and fussy. You don’t want me around to worry about.”

“You’re my son, Luke. I’ll worry about you whether you’re here or in LA. I’ll worry about you every day of your life.”

Luke picks at a stray thread on the hem of his hoodie. The fact that he isn’t looking at me tells me everything I need to know. He wouldn’t have come to me without a plan. Without his mind being made up.

“You really want to do this?” I ask. “Picking up and changing schools right before the semester ends?”