Luke: A West Bend Saints Romance (12 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Autumn

Sunlight streams through the windows, bathing everything in the room in a warm mid-morning glow.

Mid-morning.

I bolt upright in bed, pulling the sheets around my naked body, my heart racing.  It’s mid-morning and I haven’t heard a peep out of Olivia?

Scrambling out of bed, I throw on a t-shirt and pull on my pajama pants, that were previously crumpled into a pile on the floor.  There's an empty spot where Luke was last night, and the initial twinge of disappointment I feel when I see it turns to panic when I check Olivia’s room and see her empty crib.

I race down the stairs two at a time, mentally running through every possible catastrophic, terrible scenario in my head.

My thoughts are irrational, crazy, but I can’t stop them.  This is like the beginning of every episode of one of those horrible news shows.  I'm going to be a cautionary tale, something people tell about the mother who stupidly slept with a man who kidnapped her child.

Then I hear Olivia's laughter, her high-pitched squeal, and I burst into the kitchen to see them.  Olivia sits in her high chair, clapping as she presses a spoonful of yogurt against Luke's nose.  He looks at her with wide eyes, his nose dotted with yogurt, and she collapses against her high chair in hysterics again until she's nearly breathless.

"Did you sleep?" He looks up at me, casual like he does this every freaking day. As if he's in the business of entertaining toddlers.

"What are you doing?"  My voice comes out harder than I intend it, but my heart is racing, pounding in my chest so hard I think it's going to explode.  I look at them together, Olivia delighted with her new playmate, his nose covered in yogurt.  For a second, I want to walk over there and kiss him.

"You were sleeping so soundly, and you were so tired, I figured it'd probably been a long time since you got to sleep in, so when she cried, I brought her downstairs.  There's coffee over there if you want some.  Bacon and eggs, too."

"How long have you been awake?"  My voice is still clipped, with an edge I can’t quite seem to control, and I’m not sure why I’m so annoyed by this.  I watch as Olivia applies more yogurt to Luke's nose and collapses into hysterical laughter again.

"A couple of hours."

"You've been entertaining her for a couple of hours?" 
He’s trying to be nice,
I tell myself.  The rational part of me knows that.  But the protective mother in me thinks,
you slept upstairs while some guy was alone with your child for a couple of hours?

"I figured if she got really upset, I'd just come up and get you."

"You should have gotten me anyway," I say, my tone clipped.  "Unless you have vast childcare experience I don't know about."

It just comes out, and I look at his expression, and know I’m being mean. But I'm still on edge, still worked up by the fact that I thought that something had happened to her.

And by the fact that I feel suddenly vulnerable, finding him down here, laughing with Olivia.  Taking an interest in my child.

You’re scared because he’s taking an interest in you.  Because maybe he isn’t just a fling.

When Luke looks at me, his jaw is clenched.  "I didn't realize you'd have a problem with it," he says, standing up and wiping the yogurt off his nose with a napkin.

I keep my tone level, my voice quiet, aware that Olivia can hear us.  "You didn't realize I'd have a problem with a strange man in my house, alone with my child?"

Holy shit.

I don’t even mean to say it.  The words just come out, and I immediately want to take them back.  I regret them instantly.  A hurt look flits over his face and then disappears behind a stony one, and I feel terrible.

"You're right," he says, his voice flat.

"She's my kid," I say.  I don’t try to offer another explanation, put into words how I’m feeling this morning in the wake of what happened between us last night.  I’m feeling panicked and skittish and not at all like myself.

His jaw clenches, and he looks at me, his expression hard.  "No problem," he says.  "I should get going anyway."

He calls Lucy, who pads over to Olivia's high chair, licking her toes, and Olivia giggles with delight.

"Luke, I -- " I start, but don't know what the hell to say.  I could say a thousand things that would make this situation better – I could explain that I didn't plan to wind up dealing with a morning-after breakfast with anyone anytime soon.  And that I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.

Instead, my mouth goes dry and I stand there stupidly, tongue-tied, saying nothing.  For once, words completely fail me.

"No worries," he says, avoiding eye contact with me.  He starts down the hall, calling Lucy, who trails after him.

"Luke, you don't have to go," I say weakly, as I unbuckle Olivia from her high chair.  "I didn't mean anything -- "

"It's all right," he says, giving me a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.  "We're still friends, right?"

He gives Olivia a little wave before he walks out the front door.  And I let him go.  I let him drive away, even though I could easily have asked him to stay, apologized for being an idiot.

But instead, I stand there, with Olivia in my arms, telling myself that I'm in the right.

Even after I walk back into the kitchen and look at the breakfast he cooked for us – that he cooked for me while watched Olivia and let me sleep in, because he was trying to be nice.

Damn it.  Why can't I let someone just be nice?

***

"It's nothing," I say, trying to sound casual but my voice betrays me.

"Obviously," June says.  We're sitting on the back porch at her house, watching the kids play in the sandbox.  It's not our regular play date day.  It's the emergency Saturday morning play date I called an hour ago.

"I mean, it just happened," I say.  "It was stupid.  Irresponsible.  I shouldn't have brought him over.  It's one of those things that you're not supposed to do, right?  Isn't there some kind of rule about that, a recommendation from experts or something?"

June laughs.  "Rule about what?  Having a little bit of fun for a change?"

"A rule about bringing a man home when you're a mother," I say.  "About not bringing some random stranger and exposing your kids to a creep or something."

June purses her lips and frowns.  "Oh, so now you're saying Luke is a creep?"

"No, he's not," I say adamantly.  "He's not."

"So what's the problem?"

"I hooked up with a guy -- on my kitchen floor," I hiss, keeping my voice low, out of earshot of the kids.  "I'm a terrible parent."

"She was asleep," June says, waving her hand dismissively.  "You think Cade and I haven't gotten it on in the kitchen when the kids are asleep?"

"It's different," I say.  "You're..."

"Please don't say
married
," she says.  "You've not been on a single date since you've moved here.  That's two years, Autumn.  I think that's a long enough mourning period."

"I'm not in mourning!"

"Well, then stop acting like you are," she says.  "You're not a nun.  You didn't take a vow of celibacy just because you became a mom."

"You think it's totally fine?"

"I think you're doing a great job making it
not fine
," she says, sipping a glass of water.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It was good, right?"

I exhale heavily, heat rising to my face at the thought of it.  It was more than good.  It was...
mind-blowing.
  Fantastic.  The best sex I've ever had.

"Yeah," she says, laughing.  "Exactly.  It's written all over your face."

"I don't know him, June."

She looks at me for a long time.  "How long were you married to Edward?" she asks, not waiting for an answer.  "Seems to me like you didn't really know him either."

We sit in silence, listening to the kids playing, until I finally speak.  “Damn it, June,” I say.  “Why do you have to be so…
reasonable
?”

The sound of male laughter interrupts us, and I turn to see June's husband Cade standing behind us, holding Callie.  “Reasonable?” he asks, grinning.  “Really?”

“You shut your mouth, Cade,” she says, reaching for the baby.  “I’m totally reasonable.”

“I’d be afraid of whatever advice you’re getting from June here.”

“How long have you been eavesdropping?” I ask.

Cade puts his hands up in mock surrender.  “Not even a little bit,” he says.  “Whatever you two had to talk about that was so important this morning is not at all my business.”

“That’s a smart man,” June says, smiling.  “I’ve trained him well.”

Cade kisses the top of her head.  “I have to go in to the shop for a little while,” he says.  “Can you handle the two heathen children?”

“I think I’ll manage,” June says.

I wait until Cade leaves to speak.  “You and Cade are good parents,” I say.

“Yeah, we are,” she says, leaning forward, her voice dropping to a whisper.  “But we’re not saints, Autumn.  You have no idea how far from saints we are.”

I can’t help but laugh. 
Yeah, right.
  Because June, the sweet little bed and breakfast owner, is totally a badass.

“Seriously, Autumn,” she says.  “Go have a wild one-night-stand  -- or a few nights. Or make him your boyfriend if you want.  And if you need Cade and I to babysit Olivia so you can have an actual, real-life date, we will.”

My eyes go wide.  “I’m not making him my boyfriend,” I say.  “He’s just…a fling.  At most.  Maybe not even that.”

“Uh-huh,” she says.  “If he’s just a fling, then why do you care what happened this morning?”

Damn it.
  I swallow hard.  June is right.

“Exactly,” she says, as if she can read my mind.  “You know I’m correct.  And don’t eff it all up just because you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” I protest, automatically, obviously lying.

“Of course you are.  You like him.”

“I can’t like him,” I say.  “I don’t know him.”

“Well, you can remedy that part of things, now can’t you?” she says.  “Getting to know someone is easy enough.”

“Easy for you to say.”  I cross my arms over my chest and give June a sullen glare, aware I’m being ridiculous, but she just laughs.

“I’m quite sure you’ll manage just fine,” she says.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Luke

“Where the fuck have you been?”  Elias’ voice greets me even before I get out of the truck.  I don’t answer, don’t look at any of them standing there in my damn driveway, because I don't want to deal with them right now.  Lucy starts to run excitedly toward my brothers, before getting distracted by a squirrel and running off in the opposite direction.

“I don’t need shit from you, Elias, so lay the hell off.”  I’m on edge from this morning, practically crawling out of my skin on the drive home from Autumn’s place.  What happened this morning shouldn't matter.  It was a bullshit argument after a bullshit one-night-stand, and that was it.  It shouldn’t get under my skin.

And it shouldn’t have me this edgy now, twenty minutes later.  I tell myself that she means nothing to me.

Friends,
she said.  I don’t have friends – not of the girl variety.

“He has his panties in a bunch over some chick he’s banging,” Silas says, supposedly talking to his twin, but says it loudly, so I can hear.

All I hear is the part about banging some chick.  I walk straight toward Silas, and shove him backward.  “I said, fuck off.”

“What the hell, Luke?”  Silas lunges for me, and then Killian and Elias are between us.

“Both of you,” Killian says.  “Shut the hell up.  Now.”

“Then tell him to stop being such a fucking asshat,” Silas yells.

“Oh yeah, I’m totally the ass –“

Killian smacks me hard in the chest.  “Shut up before I knock both of you idiots out,” he says.  “Our mother kept a diary.”

My blood is pumping so loudly in my ears that it takes a second to register.  “A diary,” I say.

“We found it,” Elias says.  “River and I did.  Everything is in there.”

Everything’s in there.

“What?” I ask.  “Show me.”

I’m struck by a sudden, overwhelming sense of guilt.  I’d stuck around in West Bend after my mother’s suicide, because I’d thought something was off about it.  I’d even gone and poked around the old house, at least until I couldn’t stand being there anymore -- until the darkness of the place threatened to envelop me, even in the middle of the daytime.  It reeked of memories of the past, shit I didn’t want to think about anymore.

Since then, I’ve been distracted by Autumn…

Killian claps me hard on the back, jolting me out of my thoughts.  “Elias has the diary.”

Family,
I remind myself. 
That’s why I’m here. 
I'm not here to be distracted by a woman.

“You were right,” Elias says, handing me the notebook.  “It wasn’t a suicide.  Jed killed her.”

“We assume Jed killed her,” Silas says.  “The journal implies it.”

“Whatever,” Killian says.  “We know it was Jed.  We could easily take care of it.”

“Yeah, man,” Elias says.  “That’d be real fucking smart, seeing as he’s the sheriff and all.  Why don’t you go take his ass out right in front of the mayor’s office, while you're at it?  I’m sure that’ll work out well.”

“Shit, start seeing a movie star and all of a sudden you’re all ‘think logically’ and ‘don’t commit murder, Killian’,” he says.

“Shut up for a damn second," I say, opening the journal.  “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“You think?” Silas asks.  “I wasn’t even sure you could read.”

I glare at him.  “I’m going to kick your fucking ass in two seconds if you don’t shut your mouth.”

Silas hoots.  “I'd love to see you try, big brother.”

“Cut it out, both of you,” Killian says.  “You guys are giving me a headache.  Why are we standing outside anyway?  You got beer in the fridge?”

“Dude, it’s like nine in the morning,” Elias says.

Killian raises his eyebrows.  “Do you have a fucking point?” he asks.  “Beer?  Fridge?”

I toss the keys at Killian.  "The fridge is full of beer,” I say.  “Wait, I thought you were going back to the rig.”

“I have to,” he says.  “Leave tomorrow.”

“You’re going to really leave right in the middle of this shit?”

Killian shrugs, the way he does.  Things just roll off his back; that's the way Killian has always been, mellow like that.  But it pisses me off that he can just leave, walk away like none of this matters to him.  It
should
matter to him.  He points at Elias and Silas. "You two idiots, leave Luke alone to read through the journal while I get us some beers.  I'm not doing jack shit out here until I get a cold one."

"It's all near the end in the journal," Elias starts.

"Leave him be, Elias," he says, disappearing into the house.

Elias glares at him.  "I folded down the page," he says.

I pull up a lawn chair and open the journal to the page, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. 
Fuck this day.
  It was already a shitty day to begin with and now this.

I lose myself in the pages, squinting at the pieces of handwriting that are hard to decipher, words here and there that I can't quite make out.  It's definitely hers, though – it's like hearing my mother's voice from beyond the grave.  At one point, I look up from it and catch Silas' eye.

"It's weird reading that shit, isn't it?" he asks.

"Spooky," I say.  It's like stepping into her head, and that's not a place I've ever wanted to be.  I've always thought of her as weak, too afraid to leave my asshole stepfather.  He'd beaten her down so many times that she was too helpless to get out.  Except, that's not what I see in the journal.  Her voice changes over the course of it.  And then I get to the thing that hits me like a blow to the guy, that makes the world tilt on its fucking axis.

I look up at Elias.  "Are you kidding me?" I ask.

"Keep reading," he says.  "It gets worse."