Luke made a beeline to the men’s restroom.
I turned back to Jake, and he was watching me carefully with that same Cheshire Cat smirk. He’d figured it out.
“You gonna get that?” He asked smugly.
I scowled at him and tossed him my house keys. “You can stay in my spare room, please don’t drive.”
Conscious of his heckling behind me, I got up out of the booth and walked towards the men’s room. As soon as I crossed through the threshold, I knew on some intuitive level that I was passing through a door I could not go back through.
“Luke?” I called into the restroom with my cop voice. Consciously, I softened it. “Luke, are you in here?”
There was this weird wheezing sound coming from the large handicap stall.
“Luke, is that you?” I called into the room, my voice echoing around me.
“It… it’s me…” he squeaked out.
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut by how scared he sounded. How his loneliness came through in his voice.
“I want to make sure you’re okay,” I said, walking over to the big stall door.
“I’m f-fine.” He replied.
“No, you’re not fine,” I said.
For a moment I was stricken by how… how weird this all was. I was talking to a man that I had basically stalked earlier, and coveted, and hoped that I would run into again, and here I was. Meeting him in a bathroom for a second time.
“If you want, I’ll go,” I said gently. I was used to situations like this from when I was on duty… but it was always when I was talking someone out of something.
I closed my eyes and shook my head, shaking away the memory. Damn, it had been so long since I consciously thought of that too…
But if he wanted to be alone, there was nothing I could do. I would have to let this pure, rare bird fly away.
Even the thought of it caused a pang of loneliness in my gut; a pang of loss.
I turned to leave the bathroom, my boots squeaking on the tile floor.
“Don’t go.”
I stopped in my tracks. A flood of warmth rushed through me.
Someone wanted me. Someone needed me.
“What do you need, Luke?” I asked as I approached the stall door again.
There was only the sound of his heavy breathing.
“Just… stay here…” he said.
From the way his voice was carrying, I could tell he was sitting on the floor.
Obeying some internal voice within me, I sank to the floor beside him and leaned up against the wall. From this angle, I could just barely see his pale, delicate hand visible underneath the gap in the stall.
I longed to touch it; longed to hold it. To absorb whatever pain he might be going through and make it all go away.
I wanted to fight his demons for him.
But the bounds of professionalism and the fact that these feelings were inappropriate kept me from moving an inch.
“Sorry about my brother,” I said. “He can be a real ass.”
There was more ragged breathing echoing through the bathroom.
I wasn’t sure what to do, so I kept talking. “When we were kids, he used to dig in the mud for worms on the playground, and then chase the girls with them. He’d fling them at them too. Not trying to get their attention or anything, but only because to see what would happen.”
Luke was quiet except for his breathing.
“I think that’s what happened tonight — he was flinging some worms at you to see how you’d react.”
“Have you ever had anxiety?” Luke’s small voice echoed throughout the bathroom, looking for somewhere to land.
“No,” I admitted. But all I could think about was the sound of rushing water and how it made me feel… it made me feel like what happened on that day all over again. “But I know people who have. It doesn’t sound fun to deal with.”
“It’s not!” He shouted suddenly.
I jumped, wondering if I’d upset him. If the rare bird had finally wised up and flown away.
“S-sorry…” Luke muttered, calming down. “It’s just that… not a lot of people understand what it’s like. It’s not something that was caused by any particular thing. Like, out there in the bar, I can handle it: The noise level, the different conversations, keeping track of orders… but when I have to do something that scares me a little bit, that sets it off sometimes.”
I was left wondering what had scared him, and suspecting that it had something to do with Jake.
I scowled.
“What can I do to help?” I asked making sure my voice came across as gentle.
“Um… could you get me a glass of water or something?” he asked.
I was pleased to hear that his voice sounded much more steady now.
“Sure,” I said as if it was nothing. But as I got up and walked out the bathroom door, I knew it was my singular mission to give this man anything — and everything he needed.
Once I returned with an ice-cold glass of water, I passed it to him under the gap in the stall.
My fingers brushed against his, and I felt lightning flash through my body.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice exhausted.
“My pleasure,” I said, trying to figure out if there was any hint that there might be a small — even the smallest chance that this angelic man felt something for me, too.
He took an audible gulp of water, then spoke. “So you’re a cop.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I am,” I answered cautiously. I was used to people acting suspiciously around me once they figured that out. It was the same as when I was driving down the highway in my patrol car, and once everyone around me saw the telltale symbol of authority in their rearview mirrors, they suddenly became the slowest drivers ever.
“That means you like… arrest people and stuff, right?” He asked.
His naivete brought a smile to my face. It had been so long since I smiled, that it sort of hurt.
Then I frowned when I realized how
