Ruin

60

LUCAS P. O. V
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Friday : 3:20 P. M.
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"How is he?"

"He's good, actually. He's been asking more for you lately though," my mother says on the other side of the line. "He misses you."

She had called a few minutes ago to check up on me. She has been calling more often lately.

I crack a small smile. "I should be coming to the states in a few days. I'll swing by."

"Really?" I can just about hear the excitement in her tone.

"Have I ever gone against my word, Lady?" I ask, feigning seriousness.

She laughs. "No. It's just I'm a bit surprised. This girl seems to be melting that ice cold heart of yours."

My heart skips a beat at the mention of Amanda.

I've been trying to clear my head of all things Amanda Smikle for the past couple days. Reason why I've been ignoring her calls, and haven't spoken to her since Sunday.

Now, to hear my mother bring her up again has summoned all the feelings I've been trying hard to bury.

Rolling my eyes, I say, "Don't start."

She clicks her tongue. "What am I doing? I'm just telling you the truth. She's good for you. I can see the difference. Stop being such a brat and admit it. You love her. I can tell without even hearing you say it," she says with a smile in her voice. "It reminds me of when your father and I just started out."

My smile drops at the mention of that fact.

I'm nothing like my father.

I hope I'm not.

In that regard, at least.

Swiveling around in the chair, flicking the pen around my fingers, I say, "It's different with Amanda and I."

I'd like to think we're a little less toxic.

"It's not different. It's love. All love is the same."

I strongly disagree.

It may sound harsh, but I hope I don't have a love like my parents'.

I've watched my mother go through so much hurt and pain, repeatedly, over the years. How she's managed to cope with all she's been through is beyond me.

My jaws clench just recollecting all I've witnessed.

All in the name of love, right?

Love.

What the fuck is love, anyway?

Love is not a list of rules set in stone, that you give someone for them to follow when they're left alone ——like a programmed robot. Or a puppet.

For them to do only as you've instructed, with no room for hiccups.

And expect for them to remain loyal.

And they do.

That's not how it works.

It sure has not worked out that way for me so far.

If it had, I wouldn't be in this situation right now.

Instead, it seems to work the complete opposite for me.

Every time I let someone get too close to me, I end up getting hurt.

Jessica was a prime example.