Luke's Absolution (The Colloway Brothers Book 3) (27 page)

E
ric stares
me down as I stride through the glass door, the tinkling of the bell announcing my arrival. Today he’s wearing a ratty Lions hat backwards, black ripped jeans, and a black Godsmack concert T-shirt.

“Wow, you’ve got balls of steel showing up here like this,” he spits venomously.

Guess that answers the question on whether he knows what happened between Addy and me.

“Thought we had an appointment.”

“I didn’t think you’d show.”

“Guess you were wrong.”

I stand my ground. I made this appointment two weeks ago and I am not fucking leaving Inked On until I have my new tattoo. The one I had him design with
her
in mind.

It’s been over a week since I’ve seen Addy at her studio and every minute has been insufferable. I miss her with a raw ache that deepens with every passing second. If not for Bigs, I’m not even sure I’d make it to work. At least when I’m there I throw myself into it head-on so I can forget how empty I feel. I packed a bag and moved back in with him for a while so she could have her place back. She was there long before I was. When I texted her about it I didn’t get a response so I don’t know if she’s living there or not. If she’s anything like me, she can’t.

I couldn’t stay there without her. Everywhere I looked memories were woven into the very fabric of that place. Every surface. Every wall. Even the air. I walked by her room and could smell her unique scent. I slept in her bed that first night before I moved out, just so I could feel close to her. It tore my guts out to see that stupid stuffed animal sitting on top of the comforter, knowing she didn’t take it with her. He looked lost and lonely and forgotten. A mirror of me.

I’ve called her daily, but she won’t answer. I text her, but she won’t respond. I had a package delivered to her this morning but haven’t heard a peep. I know gifts won’t fix things, but this one was special. It had meaning, a purpose, just like her. I know she digs that stuff.

I’ve decided while I’m back in Detroit for the long weekend to just let her be. Give her some breathing room. I’m not done fighting. I’ll never be done fighting. Whether she takes me back or not, I at least need her to understand what happened and why I flipped out. Then maybe she can go through the process of forgiving me. I’m an insanely patient man when I want something bad enough.

Eric sighs in resignation. “I’m going to make this as painful as possible.”

I nod, following him. “Was kinda hoping you would.”

He leads me back to his private room, pulling the curtains shut. I take off my shirt and get comfortable on the table. Eric goes about getting the ink and his instruments of torture ready, eyeing me the whole time. He silently cleans the spot where my new tattoo will rest for all of eternity.

Pressing the transfer to my clean skin, he tests his tattoo machine, making sure the needle’s working right. Eric uses the good old-fashioned steel tube instead of the disposable ones so many artists use today. Says it makes a huge difference in his end product and he’s nothing if not proud of his art, as he should be. It’s fucking incredible. Snapping on his black latex gloves, he looks at me with an evil grin.

“Ready, fucker?”

“Did you sterilize your gun?”

“Nah. I’m rolling the dice with you today.” I’m not entirely sure he’s kidding. I nod and he leans over to start. The familiar hum of the machine soothes me and I suck in a breath at the first bite of the needle but then settle in for a long session. We’re silent for a good fifteen minutes before Eric speaks. I’ve already decided if he asks, I’ll tell him, even though it should be Addy I tell first.

“You gonna spill?”

“You should lift the gun first.” The last thing I want him to do is fuck up my ink when he goes into shock. Which he will.

His gaze turns to mine and I cock my brow. He straightens and cuts the power, taking away the pain. I want it back.

“It’s your sister.”

“
What’s
my sister?” He snarls.

“Sam.”

“Sam? What does Sam have to do with this?” Ah, so Addy didn’t tell him much beyond the fact that I hid for days like a pussy.

“She was the one at the house that day. With my dad.” His brows pinch in confusion and I add, “She’s the one he had a kid with. Your niece, Landyn, is my half sister.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not Eric.” I go on to tell him about the birthmark. I tell him how I wigged out when I saw Sam at Addy’s. I tell him how I stayed drunk for four days straight. I tell him how I’ve tried to apologize to Addy repeatedly and win her back. I tell him I am ruined without her.

He sits in utter disbelief. I can see he’s having just as hard a time wrapping his head around this shit as I did.
Am
, still.

“She’s stubborn.”

“As a fucking mule,” I retort. “But I love her despite it.”

A smirk flashes before it’s gone. “You’re good for her, Luke. I fought it because I didn’t want her with guys like us, but I know now I was wrong. I see how much you love her. She’ll come around.”

“I hope so.”

“You can’t keep this a secret anymore, LC.”

“I know. I’m telling my mom tonight.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Don’t envy you that conversation.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Neither do I.”

Tonight I get to be the one to crush my mom yet again. I crushed her before with my actions. I’ll crush her now with my words. That thought’s been sitting hard and sick in the pit of my stomach for days. She just got home day before yesterday from Chicago after staying with Gray and Livia for a week to help with the babies and I didn’t want to talk to her then. Now that she’s here and I’m here there’s no more putting it off.

Eric gets back to work. This time, we stay silent, both lost in our own thoughts at how small this world really is.

W
alking
through my apartment door has to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I’ve been standing in the same spot for I don’t even know how long. Everywhere I look, I see Luke.

I see him in the kitchen dicing up vegetables or making coffee.

I see him on the couch, my head in his lap while he recounts why each stupid
Fast and Furious
movie is unique in its own way. He made me watch all seven of them.

I see him pushing me against the hallway wall before he sinks inside me because he doesn’t have the patience to make it to the bedroom.

His entire essence surrounds me here, and my eyes well.

God, I miss him.

Tomorrow’s the start of another weekend, which means another Sunday without him. I always loved Sundays even before Luke was in my life. I used to do nothing but sleep in and lie around all day, catching up on my stack of magazines or reading a steamy romance. Luke was more than happy to insert himself into my tradition, only we acted out the steam after he made me read it out loud first.

Now I hate Sundays. There’s nothing fucking sunny about it.

Kam begged me to stay at least until Monday, but I can’t impose on her anymore. Quite frankly, I’m tired of her asking me every five seconds if I’m okay. I’m tired of her telling me every hour to call him. I’m just tired, period.

After I’m changed into some pajama pants and a baggy tee, I pour myself a big glass of white wine, wincing when I see the Heinekens in the bottom of the fridge. I’ll have to throw those out tomorrow. I don’t even bother opening the freezer. Its contents will cause me to have a meltdown. I may have to call Kam to come over and help me purge.

Sitting on the couch, I turn on the TV, flipping until I find
The Breakfast Club
. I mute it. I can’t stomach noise right now for some reason. Then I turn it off because I can’t stomach even watching TV in here without
him
.

Lying down, I curl into a ball and pull the blanket from the back of the sofa over me. I can’t seem to get warm. I’ve been cold for two weeks straight.

Frozen. All of me.

My blood.

My body.

My heart.

I feel dead inside without him. I wonder if I’ll ever be me again.
No. Because he’s part of you now.

Am I being too hard on him? Should I at least let him explain? Can I trust him not to run again? Can I trust him to trust me
instead
of running? I don’t know. I don’t really know anything anymore, I guess, other than I’m miserable without him, so maybe that’s my answer.

“And war is my destiny until she is mine.”

The whispered words he spoke have haunted me day and night. I run them over and over in my head. I dream them. I’ve written them countless times. He’s been true to his word. Relentless but not pestering. There’s a fine line there and he’s butting up against it yet hasn’t crossed it. Every time I see his name appear on my phone, I ache.

Restless, I sit up and look at the small robin’s egg-colored blue box I’m holding in my hand. It arrived at the studio this morning. The deliveryman left before I could reject it. He was probably given very strict instructions to get in and get out before the crazy woman threw a temper tantrum. That sounds like something Luke would do. A sad smile tries to curve my lips but fails.

I flick it open, fingering the delicate silver olive leaf pendant inside. There are tiny filigree branches with even tinier leaves. There are no diamonds, no gemstones glittering back at me. It’s simple, intricate, beautiful, and no doubt meaningful in some way. I remove the note that’s tucked inside. The one I’ve been too chicken to read. The one I know will cut me to ribbons.

Taking a fortifying drink, I unfold the small piece of paper and begin reading. And sobbing.

I
pussied
out last night and didn’t talk to my mom. She’s been gone all morning having coffee with her friends, so by the time she finally walks through the door at shortly after one my stomach is in forty different types of knots. I have absolutely no fucking idea how I’m going to start this conversation, because I can’t just blurt out, “
Hey, funny story. You’d never believe that Dad’s illegitimate daughter is also my woman’s niece. Weird coincidence, right?”

As it turns out, it doesn’t take us long to get around to that conversation. My mom is
the most
intuitive person I know on the planet. It’s almost like she has this creepy sixth sense, and as a child, that was damn unnerving, let me tell you.

“What happened?” she asks pointedly after grabbing a bottle of diet iced tea from the fridge. The lid makes a popping noise when she twists it off. When I said that I pussied out earlier, what I actually meant is I avoided her completely last night so this is the first conversation we’ve had since I arrived yesterday afternoon. This is actually the first conversation we’ve had since I came out of hiding.

I take a seat at the six-person cherrywood kitchen table. My mom slides in right across from me so I have no choice but to look at her.

“Can you be more specific?”

She ignores my contrived confusion. “You do realize your entire family was worried sick about you, Luke. Addy was a wreck. What you did was irresponsible.”

I don’t care how old you are, your mother’s disappointment in you always cuts deep. “You talked to Addy?”

“Yes.” I wait for more, but that’s all she’ll offer.

My sigh is heavy and long. “I know, Mom. I’m sorry. It’s…complicated.”

“Life is complicated, Luke. Every single day, each of us faces challenges and we have to figure out how to handle them. This time, you chose poorly. Your family has always been here to support you. To support each other. That’s what family is. I can appreciate a sixteen-year-old not understanding what it means to handle what life throws at them with grace and maturity. A thirty-year-old man should know better.”

Ouch
. That hurts in the way it was meant to, each biting word another stinging slap. My mom is kindhearted and loving, infinitely patient and understanding, but when you cross her…Watch. The. Fuck. Out. Right now she is angrier than I’ve seen her in a long, long time.

“I was trying to protect you, Mom. Protect the family. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” I tell her softly.

Her voice relaxes, yet still holds a sharp edge. “What is this really about, Luke? Unburden your soul, son, because I promise you I don’t sit in judgment. That’s not my job.”

I try to start saying the words several times, but they won’t budge. Fuck, this is hard. Finally, I squeak them out.

“You probably don’t remember this…I came down with the flu in the fall of my junior year and had to be sent home from school. We were supposed to play the Crusaders that night. I was mad I couldn’t go because it was a big game and I had a hundred two-degree temp.”

“I remember. You were sick with the flu for three days and could hardly get out of bed.”

Moms. They remember every hurt, every wound, every tear.

“Yeah. Well…” I take a deep breath and drop my eyes to the dark wood unable to watch her face when I destroy her world. “What you don’t know is that when I got home from school there was a woman here. With Dad.” I sweep my gaze back up to see her watching me intently, confused at where this childhood story is going, so I continue.

“I overheard them talking, Mom. She said she had pictures. Proof. And then Dad asked her how much it would take to go away.”

Her face hardens and you could have knocked me over with a feather when she speaks. “I am well aware of that situation, Luke. What I don’t understand is what that has to do with why you just disappeared two weeks ago.”

“You knew?” I ask disbelievingly.

“Of course, I knew. Your father and I didn’t keep secrets from each other.”

Standing, I start pacing, my mind reeling. “So let me get this straight. You knew your husband cheated on you, had another kid, and paid off the kid’s mother to keep them out of your lives and you were
okay
with that?”

I am in complete and total shock. Never in a million years would I have believed
my
mother would be in on a scandal like this, let alone condone it.

“Is that what you think? That this was your
father’s
child?”

“It’s what I know. I heard the whole thing, Mom! As soon as he saw the pictures, Dad paid her off.”

Her eyes water as she reaches for my hand. I take it and pull a chair close, sitting beside her. “Luke, my sweet boy. Is that what caused you to start skipping school and doing drugs and hanging out with delinquents?”

I don’t answer, but I don’t need to. She knows.

“Oh my. I should have known. I should have figured it out all those years ago and talked to you. Luke…Luke, that wasn’t your
father’s
child. It was
Fred’s
.”

“What?”

“Your uncle Fred. Your father’s
twin
.”

My shock just multiplied. My mom actually believes what she’s telling me and that makes me hate my father even more. “Is that what he told you to cover his tracks? That this was Fred’s kid?” I spit angrily.

“Luke, it’s the truth. That wasn’t the first time Fred used your father as an alias during his illicit affairs. He did it all the time in college. And that wasn’t the first time your father had to dig Fred out of a mess he’d gotten himself into because he couldn’t remain faithful to his wife.”

“I—I don’t understand, though. If this wasn’t his kid, what pictures…”

“Identical twins, remember?”

I’m speechless. None of this makes sense. My mom goes right on talking, but I’m having a hard time paying attention.

“Your dad confronted Fred and found out that he apparently had a several month-long affair with this woman, who was twelve years his junior. She was young, in law school, and he met her at some bar. I understand he even set her up in an apartment for a while. He eventually broke it off and she moved away. Then she shows up out of the blue with pictures of her and Fred and pictures of her daughter. One look at the child and your dad knew she wasn’t lying.”

I know. I saw her.

Fuck. I am so confused and still not sure I believe this soap opera twist.

“Why would he pay off Fred’s mistake? That makes no sense to me.”

“Because your Aunt Carole had just been diagnosed with stage-four breast cancer only a couple months before that. She was dying and we all knew it. He did it to protect Carole so she could be at peace when she died. He did it to protect their kids. They were losing their mother. The last thing they all needed to deal with was a scandal like that. It may not have been the right thing to do, but your father thought the easiest way to handle it was just pretend he was who she thought he was and pay her off so she’d go away.”

“But I heard her say she loved him.”

“I have little doubt she was just here after money, Luke. If she really loved Fred, why would we never have heard from her again after that? And most of all, why would she just take the money and run?”

I stare into the thick woods behind our house. The leaves have started to fill in the sparse area that deadens each winter. Spring is one of my favorite seasons when everything comes to life again. It’s kinda how I felt when I first saw Addy. Everything inside me just bloomed. Now, for so many reasons, I feel dead again. My beasts are threatening to take over completely and the visceral need I have to hold Addy in my arms so she can drive them away is excruciating.

“I saw them,” I mumble.

“Who?”

“Both of them. The daughter, I guess she would be my cousin. Landyn is her name. And her mother is Samantha.”

My mother’s silence finally causes me to tilt my head her way. She’s staring at me with as much bewilderment as I feel.

“What do you mean you
saw
them? How do you even
know
them?”

So I tell her the entire story. I catch her up on the details of what happened that day I came home from school early. I tell her what happened when Addy and I got back from the hospital to our apartment and how I spent the next several days in a drunken stupor. I confess how Addy won’t talk to me and how I may have completely fucked things up with her and when I’m done, we fall quiet for what seems like forever.

My entire adult life was built on a misunderstanding. An assumption based on overhearing a partial conversation. I made decisions based on false truths and half the facts. I’ve thought the worst of my father for the last fourteen years. I abandoned him, my family and completely changed the course of my future because I didn’t have the courage to just talk to him about what I
thought
I saw. What I
thought
I heard.

I ran from a lie.

And I hate myself for it.

“Your father forgave you, you know,” she says quietly, breaking our silence.

I laugh bitterly. “How could he possibly?”

I’ll never forgive myself.

Never.

“Because your father was a good man, Luke. He was selfless, giving, and loyal. His family always came first. I know when you were gone and didn’t come back all those years, you were putting us first in a different way—you wanted to protect us from your life, your choices.

“You are so much like your father it’s uncanny sometimes. He constantly worried about you, your life, your safety. He hated the separation between you two and not knowing what put it there, but he knew eventually you would find the light. He
always
believed in you, Luke, even when you didn’t believe in yourself. He just couldn’t watch you destroy yourself until you found your way home. Even though it was hard for him, he would want you to forgive yourself. He did just that a very long time ago.”

I left home at eighteen. My father was forty-two at the time and fifty-six when he died. I saw him approximately one time in those fourteen years. Twice, if you count the time I passed him on the road, me on my bike, him driving his fancy BMW. I attended his funeral, but at a distance. No one, except my mother, knew I was there.

I have carried unfounded hatred in my heart for nearly half my life and it’s simply unbearable to think I’ll never have a chance to make it right. My emotions swell until there’s no place else for them to go.

I am wrecked.

“Mom,” I choke on a ragged sob. Unable to keep my anguish at bay any longer, I hang my head and sob. My mom cradles me in her arms, comforting me like a mother will always do for her child, no matter how old or how big they get.