Page 16 of The Other Side of Green

I grasped the tray of cookies and launched it at his head. He ducked just in time as the cookies showered down around his feet and the tray itself rebounded off the wall.

“I’m not.”

“I can assure you; you are.”

I shook my head turning for the dustpan and brush. “No, Luca. I can’t go back. Not now. Not ever.”

I’d come to the one place Jack said he’d never want to come. And now I knew why. He was still in the one place I couldn’t go back to. Not now I knew the truth about the Collins family. Now people knew about Jack and me, and I’m sure they would have. The Collins family would have seen to it.

Jack and I were separated by thousands of miles. And that was a good thing. Very good, given the circumstances.

So why the fuck did it make me wobble off balance, like the world no longer spun on the same axis it always had?

The knocker on the front door gently rapped only an hour later. The house was shrouded in a deathly silence, appropriate really considering we were in mourning. The drapes were still shut.

“I’ll get it,” I called out to Luca. We hadn’t faced each other in the last hour, but I could hear him shuffling around.

I opened the front door, hardly ever used by anyone other than guests, to find Pastor Clarke on the top step. “Oh, Lyra.” His brow furrowed, his tone deep and sincere.

“Pastor Clarke.” I nodded my greeting. “Please come in.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

Yeah, right.

Out of respect for Grams, and the high regard she’d always held our Pastor in, I smiled and opened the door. “How are you, my child?” His quick gaze darted behind me further into the house. Looking for Mom, I guessed.

“Tired. It was a long trip home, and then when I got back…” I glanced over at Grams’ chair as we walked into the front room.

Pastor Clarke grabbed my hand. “You realized the house no longer felt the same?”

I nodded, a lump in my throat the size of Texas. “Something like that.”

“She was so proud of you, Lyra. Only at church two Sundays ago, she was singing your praises, reminding all her friends you had a full scholarship—not that any of them would have dared to forget.” He chuckled, a nice warm sound. “No Luca? Mom?” He peered around. “And something smells delicious.”

“Luca’s here somewhere. I’ll go call.” Anything to get out of the room. “And I’ve made food for everyone.”

He smiled and nodded. “What a good girl you are.”

I grimaced. Let’s be real, that statement had never held true.

With a tight smile I ducked out into the small hallway and leaned up the stairs. “Luca! Pastor Clarke is here.”

This should be fun.

Pastor Clarke led the free for all for Grams’ well-wishers to descend onto the house. Luca made tea and coffee while I made sure everyone got food.

“Why was Grams at church two weeks ago if her health was that bad?” I turned and started an unwilling conversation with Luca as he stirred cream into a coffee.

I had my eye on him, so I caught the squaring of his shoulders. “She wanted to pray.”

“What for? Why didn’t you stop her?”

Luca flicked a glare over his shoulder at me. “Did you ever try to stop Grams doing anything?”

“Well, no, not successfully.”

“Exactly. She said she had things on her mind and that she wanted to weigh them out with God.”