Billionaire Happy After

Phone call

I knew I shouldn't compare Christian and Lucas, since I already knew they weren't the same person, but thinking of the difference between them sort of helped solidify that knowledge. Christian and I, we were friends -barely, and on a good day, I guess, but I wasn't really sure what label to slap on our awkward, budding relationship- and I was meeting his parents.

I'd never met Lucas’ parents.

Not that it was his fault.

He had come from the system, but he never talked about anything even remotely related to family. Not about his birth parents- what had happened to them, or finding them if he didn't know. Not about his time as a child of the state -if he had ever come close to being adopted, how his foster homes were. And nothing about how he had become emancipated at sixteen and did perfectly fine -better than fine, I think, with his apartment- by himself.

I had always been curious, but I hadn't asked since it seemed too personal. Surprisingly, it was Lucas that had brought it up.

It had been the first time I sneaked out of the house.

Lucas had called me, late at night and asked me to come to his apartment. So, of course, I had. When he opened the door, I had smelled something I had never expected from him. 

Weed.

He looked the most distraught and undone I had ever seen him. His eyes were bloodshot, followed by dark circles beneath them. His hair was a mess- not just from running his hands through it like he sometimes did, but like he had been yanking at the strands. He was only dressed in a pair of jeans, and his upper body glistened with sweat.

"Lucas , What's going on?" He had sounded alright on the phone, though it had taken me half an hour to get here since it was too late for buses and finding a cab had been a b***h of a job. When I stepped in, I noticed a bottle of whiskey on the table, but it didn't look open. Yet. I turned to him. "Is everything okay?"

He didn't respond as he closed the door, and walked past me. Or when he sat down on the couch, leaning forward toward the alcohol, and resting his forearms on his thighs. I noticed his shoulders were shaking, a faint tremor ran though his entire body.

"What's wrong?" I knelt down in front of him so I could see his face.

He still didn't respond.

I sat back down on my heels, staring up at him. "Why did you call me if you're not going to talk to me?"

He was silent as he cracked the seal on the bottle. The only sound in the room was our breathing and the slow whoosh of amber liquid as he poured past what a shot should've been.

"Are you sure you should mix...?" I tried again. I knew Lucas could handle his alcohol, but I'd never seen him do weed or anything before.

He took a long drink.

"Lucas, what's going on?" What had happened? I'd only seen him a couple days ago, the day before yesterday. He hadn't been answering his phone yesterday or today, but I had just figured that he was busy.

"My mother died today." His words were slurred, his eyelids heavy, his fingers quivering against the glass he held. I slipped it from his hand before he could drop it and set it on the table, then took his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me.

"I'm sorry," I said, even though I had a million questions, and barely any idea what was going on. When? How? Did he mean his birth mother? A foster mom? Had a family adopted him a some point? "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know why I called. Sorry."

My heart broke for him.

He almost looked like a lost little boy, making me want to just hug him and somehow protect him from everything.

"It's fine," I told him. "You shouldn't think you have to be alone now."

"It happened such a long time ago-" He cut himself off. "Thirteen years ago."

I did a quick mental calculation, he would've been six at the time."What happened?"

He reached up, gripping my wrists. "It was her birthday. The candles... Our house burned with her inside it."

I gasped. "Oh Lucas . I'm so sorry."

Not just for what had happened to his mother, but his reaction on his birthday made sense now. How he didn't want to celebrate it, and hated the candles even more.

"I remember watching it burn," he said. "She didn't get out in time."

"What about your dad?" I asked.

Lucas shook his head. "He left a long time before that."

"Have you ever found him? Told him that..." I trailed off, unsure of how I should phrase it, or even say it at all.

"He knows. He's visited." He stopped and stopped to take another drink. "But he never cared about her."

I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing close to his chest. "I'm sorry." Sorry was never enough in situations like this, but sometimes it was all you could really say.

"I hate him for that," he whispered. "But he's still my dad."

At the time, I had assumed he was talking about how he should hate his dad for not caring about his mom, but no, that hadn't been what he was talking about.

I hadn't understood what he meant by it until many months later.

That had been one of the only times I had seen the genuine Lucas. At least, that was what I liked to think. He couldn't have made all of that up, his reactions and vulnerability. It was nights like that, just a handful of moments that kept me coming back to Lucas 

Those times where it had felt like he was just as in deep as me.

Christian’s phone rang again, and I glanced over to see that tense expression back on his face. This time he declined to answer and ducked his head, but not before I caught a glimpse of the name on the screen.

Asher .

I hadn't asked after the call with his dad since Christian had distracted me, but now I wondered. Why hadn't Christian brought up what Asher had said? I hadn't planned to make it any of my business, or anything, but if I was meeting the guy... What if I f****d up somehow? Mentioned meeting Asher or something in New York and compromising whatever was going on?

"Hey Christian ," I hesitated, making him look up from his phone at me. He raised an eyebrow when I didn't continue.

It's really not any of your business.

It had probably just been a joke.

...But what if it hadn't been?

"Why didn't you... Um, why didn't you tell... Uh," I stuttered.

"He would've asked less questions if I had just said it was for me," Christian said.

Wait, what?

Then I realized he thought I was trying to ask why he had told his dad the background check was for him. I could take this route, and just not ask about it.

Oh f**k it.

I shook my head. "That wasn't what I wanted to ask. Um... What Asher said in New York... Why didn't you tell your dad about it?"

The change was immediate.

His back went ramrod straight, his expression hardening as he turned to look at me. "I don't need to."

"You don't believe him?"

"My dad's a lot of things," he said. "But he's not a murderer."

"Then, why didn't you just tell warn him that people are going to be investigating?"

"They can look, they're not going to find anything. I don't have to warn him about it." He shook his head. "f**k, Georgia , he's still my dad, I'm not going to just assume the worst about him."

I gulped. "I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," he said.

"Sorry," I whispered again.

He shook his head again. "You know how you said your ex was off limits?"