Hooked by Cat Johnson

right now. The town was small, and his family was a well-known fixture among the townspeople. That meant news traveled fast and most knew everything that had happened already. There was no need to make phone calls to tell anyone. Thank God for that. Luke didn’t have it in him, and he wouldn’t have felt right leaving the task to his mother alone.
    Emotionally exhausted, Luke had forgone eating a late dinner. Instead, he’d taken a quick shower, which he hadn’t had the time for after the competition. As Luke had let the scalding water pound into his back, the championship round he’d ridden in that day felt like months ago, not just hours. He’d fallen into bed and, amazingly, had slept, even though he’d feared he’d never be able to sleep again.
    It didn’t take but a moment for reality to creep back in as he woke now. Memories of the day before and dread for all yet to come filled him and had Luke wishing he could close his eyes, pull the covers over his head and make it all go away. Instead, he rose from bed, threw a flannel shirt over the T-shirt he’d slept in, and pulled a pair of jeans over his boxer shorts.
    The shearling-lined slippers his parents had given him for Christmas last year sat on the floor next to the bed. He shoved his feet in those to combat the chill in the bare wooden floorboards and shuffled to the kitchen.
    He smelled the coffee and nearly groaned with need. In the kitchen he found a counter strewn with cakes, pies and muffins that had his stomach grumbling and reminded Luke that even if he didn’t feel like eating, he needed to.
    His mother stood next to the coffee pot, his father’s favorite mug in her hand. The family and any regular guests in the house knew that mug belonged to Charles Carpenter, and no one else dared use it.
    She looked up at him with glistening eyes, before she let out a short, teary laugh. “I just almost poured a cup of coffee for your father. It’s such a habit after all these years—” She shook her head.
    Luke took her in his arms and felt her trembling. “It’s okay. I’m sure he’s looking down at us and appreciating the thought.”
    He felt her nod against his chest before she pulled back, visibly gathering her composure. She reached up, replaced his father’s mug in the usual spot and grabbed the one next to it. She filled it with steaming hot coffee and handed it to Luke, then went back for a second mug for herself as if nothing had happened.
    “Thanks.” He took a gulp of coffee that burned its way all the way down his throat. His gaze hit on the rows of baked goods lining the kitchen. “So, ah, where did all this stuff come from?”
    His mother shrugged. “Just about everyone in town I guess. Half of it was here last night when we got home from the hospital. The rest was here this morning by the time I got up.”
    The doors of his family’s house were never locked. That was obviously common knowledge among friends who’d wanted to drop something off but not disturb them. Funny how people thought sweets would make the loss of his father any easier.
    His mother took a long sip of coffee and stared at the counter. “So generous of them all. It will come in handy when everyone comes back to the house after the funeral. I don’t think I would have had it in me to bake right now. I’ll have to remember to borrow Marge’s coffee urn though. Our little pot won’t make enough for all those people who’ll want to come back here after they pay their respects. Your father was a popular man.”
    Luke watched his mother in amazement. Right before his eyes she’d transformed from a woman crying over a coffee mug after suffering the greatest loss in her life, to a calm, organized hostess. It was then Luke realized how many things needed to be handled and how clueless he’d been about it all. Suddenly the ridiculous amount of cakes made sense. Apparently the women in town knew they’d need them. They were helping his mother.
    Meanwhile, he just