This Loving Feeling (A Mirror Lake Novel) by Miranda Liasson Page A

but exotic, with that hard “k” sound in the middle. No doubt about it, it was the sexiest name she’d ever heard.
    For everything that was wrong in Sam’s life, those kisses were just about perfect. This strange boy, who seemed to want to pull away even as he couldn’t help kissing her, had saved her from a horrible fate. But he’d done something else. He’d given her hope.

CHAPTER 4
    “Uncle Lukas, I’m hungry,” Stevie said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes bright and early the morning after the prom. Lukas felt a nudge, heard the smack smack smack of Stevie’s palm hitting his biceps. The kid was more accurate than an alarm clock about rising with the sun. “We’re out of Cheerios.”
    Lukas’s gut seized, and not just because of the ungodly hour. As a kid, he’d done as Stevie had. Scavenged around various kitchens to survive. That had meant eating anything from chips and Cheetos to dry cereal, whatever he could get his hands on. Until Mom and Pop Ellis, he couldn’t ever remember having anything that required cooking for breakfast except in his dreams.
    “C’mon, sleepyhead, get out of bed.” The child tugged mercilessly on his arm. Lukas cracked open an eye, suddenly remembering he was sleeping buck naked.
    “Hey, who is that?” he asked, groping around with his hands until he lit upon the child’s sleep-tousled hair and warm skin. “Oh, it’s a little rug rat. Get over here.” In one swoop, he snatched up Stevie, tickling him and tossing him up in the air and on top of his bed, where he landed, giggling, with a bounce. “Hi, little rug rat. What do you want for breakfast?”
    “Pancakes. With blueberries and lots and lots of syrup.”
    Since all that was in sight on the bus was an empty bag of Doritos and a beer can, he decided on the next best option, Pie in the Sky, or PITS as the town diner was affectionately called. “Then pancakes it is. With blueberries and whipped cream and syrup and a big glass of milk.”
    Stevie wrinkled up his nose. “I don’t like milk.”
    “I know you don’t like milk.” Lukas sighed. He hadn’t forgotten, he was just trying to suggest the right thing. Didn’t most kids like milk? And if they didn’t, weren’t they supposed to drink it anyway? Lukas didn’t want to hardline the kid so soon, so he said, “I’m sure they’ve got other stuff to drink. Let’s go get ready.”
    “What kind of jammies do you have on, Uncle Lukas?”
    Oh, oh. Busted. “Um, birthday suit jammies. Now go find some clothes.”
    “Can I see ’em?” Stevie started to lift the sheets but Lukas distracted him by tossing him up again and flipping him in the air until he landed on his feet on the floor. He pointed him in the direction of the door and gave him a little push. “Now scoot!”
    Crisis averted. Parenting was a tough job, one he needed to learn by the seat of his pants. He just had to remember to keep his on at all times.

    As soon as Lukas opened the glass door to the old diner an hour later, he felt the blast from the past. Actually, he smelled it. Most diner coffee smelled burnt but not here. It smelled fresh roasted, strong and bold. He couldn’t wait for an IV infusion.
    The denser aroma of bacon and the sweeter one of fresh-off-the-griddle pancakes blended with chinks of silverware and chatter that told him the restaurant was full of people who clearly enjoyed rising early and, God forbid, eating. He remembered coming here years ago with Sam, having long conversations over milkshakes or coffee or midnight pancakes. Conversations that often went on for hours, where they lost all track of time.
    The clock on the wall read seven thirty. He scrubbed a hand over his face and resisted the urge to slap himself awake. His usual late-night routine had him sleeping until noon and eating his first meal around two. He’d been lucky to sneak a smoke outside of his bus, after he got dressed, to satisfy his nicotine craving. Now if he could get some caffeine, he might