Page 7 of Jacob Michaels Is Not Jacob Michaels

All I could think about, besides how good it felt to have Lucas’ hand in mine, to have him standing there with me, was memories. After my encounter with my ghostly teenage self, I had remembered…something. I had remembered a lot of somethings. My subconscious was a niggling voice in the back of my innermost self, telling me that if I could remember them, pieces would fall into place. Something…or somethings…very important had been lost to me, and I needed to remember them. Closing my eyes, I found myself wishing that by touching Lucas’ hand, I might remember something about him like I had when I touched Ernst.

Nothing.

“That’s weird, right?” My voice was soft and didn’t match my conviction. “The fact that I’m even explaining how I feel to you—that I feel compelled to share this with you…it’s all just weird.”

“Rob,” he said, “you’re just rattled from last night.”

“The sex?” I chuckled.

He chuckled as well. “Not from the sex. I hope.”

“No, not the sex.” I agreed. “Lucas, I need to ask you something, and I really want you to be honest with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Why do I feel like I just got you back?” The question begged to be asked. “Do you know why that is?”

He just stared at me.

“Lucas?”

“Rob…”

I waited.

“…I…look, I don’t know what compelled you to ditch Point Worth and everyone here. But obviously, you did feel compelled to leave ten years ago. Right?”

My head bobbed up and down before I even thought to do it.

“Do you know why you left?”

“To chase fame and fortune.”

He frowned.

“I mean,” I chewed at my lip, “I didn’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did you want to be rich and famous?”

“I guess?”

“Babe, I don’t think you’re being totally honest. Like, at all.” He shook his head. “But I don’t think you know you’re being dishonest either. Does that help?”

“Not in the slightest.”

As if summoned, the backdoor of the house swung open, and Oma appeared in the doorway, still in her nightgown and robe, looking as though she had just woken up. Lucas glanced over at me nervously as I looked across the lawn to Oma standing in the doorway, staring out at us as though she’d never seen us before.

“Well, what the hell are you idiots doing out there at butt-early-thirty when it’s this cold?” She hollered. “You’re gonna freeze your balls off!”

Lucas’ hand was in mine again, his fingers lacing through mine. I looked down at his hand as he squeezed mine.

A warning?

“We’re just talking, Oma,” I hollered back automatically, jovially even.

“Damn fine place to do it.” She gave an exaggerated shiver as she pulled her robe tightly around herself. “What the hell are you even doing here this time of morning, Lucas? Not that you ain’t welcome, of course.”

“I—”