by B. B. Hamel
It’s Luke, it’s really him, and he kisses the same. It feels so good, so incredibly good, that for a second I totally forget why I’m here.
But a second later, it all comes crashing back to me. I pull back from him, realizing what I’m supposed to be doing, and I freak a little bit.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says.
“No, it’s not that,” I say, shaking my head. “I wanted you to. God, I’ve been needing that, for years.”
“I’ve been thinking about you every day, Avery. Your lips, your taste, all of it.” His eyes are so hard against me, but I can’t take it.
“I have to go.” I turn and quickly leave his apartment, although it physically pains me to do it.
I couldn’t tell him. And now I just ran away after he kissed me.
What the hell is my problem? Why can’t I just let myself be happy?
Maybe I don’t think I deserve it. Or maybe I don’t think I deserve Luke. I wanted that kiss so badly, and it felt so damn good, and yet it scared me. It made me freak out and run away, but I don’t want to run away. I can’t stop myself as I head back to my car, tears in my eyes. I didn’t even accomplish what I set out to do.
I feel stupid and small and weak. I want to go back up there and explain to him why I just panicked, but I can’t make myself do it. I’m embarrassed, honestly. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
There’s no playbook I can follow here. Our situation is about as unique as they get. I wish I could get some kind of guidance, but I know that I’m on my own. I want Luke so badly it hurts, but I’m afraid of having him.
I drive back home, trying to keep the tears from spilling down.
11
Luke
Kissing Avery was one of the best feelings I’ve had in a long fucking time. Watching her run away though, that was pretty goddamn rough.
I don’t know what’s going on with her. I know how I feel, and I feel like I need her. She’s my best friend, the mother of my child, and although I haven’t spoken to her in five years, I still feel like she’s the only person that really knows me. Maybe she only knows the guy I used to be, and not the man that I’ve become, but still. That’s closer than anyone else in this world.
I can’t imagine she actually wants to have something with me. I know I’m innocent of my crimes, but her family hates me. They’re probably the reason she didn’t talk to me. I can understand that, she had to do what was best for herself and for Max. I’m glad she played by their rules actually, because it meant that my son was raised in a comfortable household and given everything he needs.
I would hate it if she risked that just for my sake. Max is more important than me, more important than her, and I’m happy she chose to sacrifice having anything with me in order to protect him.
At least that’s what I’ve been assuming. But what if she just didn’t want to talk to a criminal, even an innocent one?
The thought keeps nagging me as I drive across town, heading about forty minutes away. I keep seeing the look on Avery’s face as she pulled away from my kiss and left my apartment: pure shame and confusion.
But despite that, every other time we’ve been near each other or spoken, I still feel it from her. I see the way she looks at me, her smiles, the way she leans toward me when I’m speaking. She looks at me the same way she used to, all those years ago, and I can’t help but think she still wants me.
Too many layers, too many years, too much confusion. It’s distracting me from what I really need to be doing, which is finding the person responsible for the death of Lucinda Chavez. And by extension, I’ll find out who fucking framed me.
I pull up a short gravel driveway and park outside of a small ranch home. It’s surrounded by woods, and really it’s in the middle of nowhere. It took me a while to even find it, backtracking and going in circles, but I’m finally here. It has to be the right place.
I climb out of the truck and walk up to the door. There’s no number or anything, so I just knock and hope for the best.
After a minute, a man answers. He peers out at me through the screen, a small frown on his face. He’s older, probably mid-sixties, but still in good shape. He’s grizzled, smells like smoke, has piercing, intense eyes, and the bearing of an ex-cop. I notice it right away.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Sir, are you Jason Slick?”
He sighs. “Come in.”
I’m surprised when he pushes open the screen door. I follow him through his house toward the kitchen. His place is small and the smell of smoke increases as I head inside. The carpet is thick, brown, and stained in places. There are some pictures on the walls, but mostly the place is empty, except for a television, a couch, and a computer in the corner.
We go into the kitchen and he nods at the table. “Take a seat.”
I slowly sit down, not sure what to expect. “Sir, my name is Luke—“
“I know who you are,” he cuts me off abruptly. He takes a cigarette out of a pack and lights it up on the gas stove. When he’s done, he crosses his arms and watches me for a second. “I was expecting you,” he says finally.
“Ah, you were?” I ask him, totally thrown off.
He nods. “You’re looking into your case. I figured it was only a matter of time.”
“Why?”
“What man in your position wouldn’t?” He shrugs, takes a drag. “I don’t know how much I can help you though, kid.”
“As far as I know, you’re the only honest person working my case,” I say, learning toward him. “You’re the only person that knows anything at all.”
“Could be.” He just watches me with that gaze. I can tell he’s done this before, or something like it. I realize suddenly how incredibly outmatched I am.
“I have some questions for you, if you’d be willing to help. And I think I can help you, too.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Help me?”
I nod. “I learned something about the case.”
“I’m not working it anymore, kid.”
I hesitate. “It’s not solved yet.”
“I was hired to prove your innocence, not find out who actually did it.” He takes a deep drag again. “I did my job, and now I’m done.”
“Who hired you?” I ask him directly.
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m done with this, kid. I only invited you in out of courtesy.”
“Toward whom?”
“Toward you.” He watches me carefully. “I was a detective once. I ran into some hard times, did some things I’m not proud of, and had to leave the force. So I feel for men like you, men that get caught up in the system, chewed up and spit out.”
I feel like he’s told this story a thousand times, too. “So then you should want to help me.”
“Only to a point.”
“How did you find that hard drive?”
“Got a tip.”
“From whom?”
“Can’t say.”
“Why not?”
He sighs. “Look kid, I can’t help you, okay?”
“What do you know about Dominic? He’s a security guy for the Walker family, right?”
He looks surprised at that, but he quickly gets himself under control. But that slip tells me a lot, and I suddenly have hope that I’m on the right track.
“I think you should get going,” he says, standing up straight and stubbing his cigarette out on the countertop.
I slowly stand up. “You can help me. I know you know something. The Walker family’s involved here somehow.”
He starts walking toward me, and I head back out through the living room. I pass through the front door and he pauses there, looking at me as I walk down the front porch steps.
“Be careful,” he says suddenly. “I don’t know if the Walkers are involved for sure. But they’re the kind of family with the resources and the connections to make your life very, very difficult.”
“Thanks,” I say. “And if you change your mind, come f
ind me. I’m not gonna stop.”
I get a smile out of him. “All right, kid. Good luck.” He shuts the door and disappears back inside.
I walk slowly back to my truck, get in, and start the engine. I sit there for a minute, digesting what just happened.
I’m disappointed. I don’t know what I expected, but I hoped for more. He knows something, I’m sure about that, but I don’t know what. There was a moment of recognition when I said Dominic’s name, and that comment about the Walker family there at the end suggests he suspects them as well. Everything’s pointing toward them, but I don’t know why.
I know they dislike me. Mainly because I’m a Harper, and the Harpers are a bad family, but also because they’re close with Avery’s family. The Walkers hate me because the Sellers hate me, and I can’t help but think it’s all mixed up somehow.
He’s right, though. They do have the money and resources to make my life difficult.
Problem is, they may already have fucking done that. I’m not so sure I’m afraid of what else they can do.
I should stay away from Avery, mostly just because I know I shouldn’t risk my son’s position with them. He has a good thing, with her family. But that’s just not how I work. He’s my son, and I can’t just let him go.
That’s how people are. We do the wrong thing, the fucked up thing, because we can’t help it. Sometimes love and family and desire overrides logic and reason, and we’re stuck with it, all those emotions overwhelming everything else. I know I’m swept up, but I’m not stopping.
As I head back to town, I let my thoughts drift to Avery, and what I want from her. I picture how I’ll kiss her, slowly undress her, feel her body again, feel that skin I’ve missed so goddamn badly.
As I pull into the back roads I’m so familiar with, a big dark truck suddenly comes up behind me. I haven’t been paying attention to where I’ve been going, so I’m not sure how long it’s been there. But suddenly it’s filling my rearview mirror, and getting closer all the time.
“What the fuck?” I say softly. I slow down a bit, roll down my window, and wave my arm. “Go around if you want to be a fucking prick.”
I wave my arm a couple more times, and the truck’s engine suddenly revs. It moves like it’s about to pass me, but at the last second it turns and slams its front into my rear and my truck goes spinning out. The last thing I know, I hear glass crashing, and the front of my truck slams into a light pole.
12
Avery
Max crosses his arms. “No, no, no, no, no!”
I sigh and pull the covers up tighter around his chin. “Sweetie, it’s bed time. I read you two stories, and now you have to go to sleep.”
“No!” He stares at me defiantly, and I can’t help but think of his father.
In the past, this look would have sent me reeling for days. I’d get stuck thinking about Luke, over and over, unable to get him out of my head. And that pain would dig deeper into my bones and make me more obsessed with him.
Every time I thought I’d give up, move on, focus on giving Max what he needs, Max himself would pull me back in. Even if I was risking everything investigating Luke’s case, I couldn’t help myself. Max reminds me so much of his father, and that kept me going. That’s also why I’m so afraid to tell Luke the truth. If he knows that I was risking his son’s future for what were really totally selfish reasons, he’ll be furious.
But tonight, instead of pain, I feel something else. It’s confused, and difficult, but it’s joy. Because Max’s father is free, I was just kissing him not too long ago. Even if things are fucked up and confusing and I still can’t even go see Luke without getting kicked out of my house, it doesn’t matter. He’s free, I can touch him, I can taste him again.
And Max can get to know him.
I sigh and give in. “One more story,” I say, pulling out his book. “Last one. Okay?”
“Yes,” Max says. “Read, please.”
He settles back and I smile, reading him his favorite story for the third time. Now I get why parents always buy a ton of books: it’s not for the kids, it’s for them.
By the time I’m nearly finished, Max’s eyes are fluttering shut. He’s asleep as I shut the book and head toward his door, walking softly.
Before I can leave, I hear something. It’s a voice not far away, and I don’t know why I stop, but I do. I lean up against the wall and listen, not daring to breathe.
“—like he fucking was dead or something.”
It’s Thomas’s voice. His room is right next to Max’s, and he must have his door open.
“I mean, we didn’t want to kill him. That’s a whole thing. But hurt him real bad? Definitely.”
I stand there listening, terror ringing through me, because I know what he’s talking about.
“Serves him right, coming to my house like that. He’s lucky my idiot sister pulled me away. I would have kicked his ass then and there.” He pauses, listening. “Fuck, yeah, I would have. We rammed his truck, didn’t we? Fucked him up real good.” Another long pause. “Don’t be such a pussy, Franklin. We’ll get the truck fixed, don’t worry about it. He won’t go talk to the cops. Because he’s fucking afraid of them.”
I’m starting to hyperventilate. What he’s saying sounds really, really bad. I don’t know what he did, but it sounds like they did something to Luke, some kind of car accident.
“Fine, yeah, I gotta go. Fucking neck’s killing me from that,” he says, laughing. “But I bet he got the worst of it. All right, later.”
I hear him shuffle around his room for a second before walking down the hall. I wait for him to disappear downstairs before running into my bedroom and grabbing my phone.
I call Luke ten times, but he never answers. Practically frantic, I grab a sweatshirt and my car keys before sneaking downstairs and out the garage door.
I start my car, praying nobody hears it, before slowly pulling out with my lights off. Once, I’m in the street, I turn them on and start driving fast toward Luke’s place.
My brother is such a bastard. I don’t know how I’m related to a violent piece of shit like that. I don’t understand why he hates Luke so much, why he takes such pleasure in fucking with people. But my brother is one of the stupidest, most spoiled assholes in the world. I don’t know why my father puts up with him, but for some reason he can’t see the trouble my brother constantly brings.
I pull up outside of Luke’s building and my heart practically stops. Luke’s truck is parked out front, the front of it smashed in. I don’t even know how he got it here. It looks like it wouldn’t drive. I kill my engine and jump out, practically running to the door.
I buzz his apartment, hitting the button over and over. “Come on, Luke,” I say, heart hammering.
A minute later, the intercom clicks. “Yeah, okay, what the fuck?”
Relief floods over me. “Luke, it’s me, are you okay?”
A brief pause. “Come up.”
The door buzzes and I hurry inside. I walk fast down the hallway, happy that he’s home and safe, but terrified of what my brother did to him.
I get to his door and it’s already open. I find Luke standing in the kitchen, a glass of whisky in his hand, and a bruise blooming under his right eye.
He grins at me. “Hey,” he says.
“Oh my god,” I say softly. “Luke.”
“I’m fine.” He touches his nose. “Could be worse. At least I put seatbelts in there.”
“What did Thomas do?” I ask.
He looks away. “How did you know?”
“I heard him on the phone, bragging to Franklin Walker.”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“Luke.” I walk up to him and tilt his face toward me. He’s going to have one black eye, and his nose is slightly crooked. “You need to get this set.”
“I’ll do it later,” he says.
“You have to see a doctor.”
“Can’t afford that.” He goes to turn away but winces.
“What?” I ask. “You’re hurt.”
“Just my ribs. I’m fine.”
“Luke,” I say. “Come on, this is serious.”
He shakes his head and finishes his whisky. “I’m fine,” he says, again. “I’m glad you care, though.”
“Why wouldn’t I care?” A flood of emotions threatens to drown me.
He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m just angry.”
“My brother is a fucking prick. You could go to the cops, you know.”
He laughs. “No fucking way. I’d go to jail again.”
“They attacked you.”
“They ran me off the road. Honestly, I’m more pissed about my truck.”
“Oh god,” I say, covering my mouth. It just dawns on me how long he worked on that truck for. “How bad is it?”
“Bad,” he admits. “I might be able to restore it, but not anytime soon.”
“God damnit,” I say. “We can’t let them get away with this.”
He looks back at me, a smirk on his lips. “We? You’re pretty cute when you’re pissed.”
“Stop,” I say. “This is serious.”
“Is it? Your brother is a psycho and I wasn’t paying attention. It won’t happen again.”
“He could have killed you.”
“He didn’t. And he won’t.”
“Damnit, Luke,” I say, anger slowly filling me. “Why do you have to be so stubborn all the time?”
“It’s just part of my natural charm.”
“It drives me insane.”
He shrugs and fills his glass again. “Have a drink. It’ll calm you down.”
“I don’t want a drink,” I say.
He turns toward me, coming closer. “What do you want then, Avery? Huh?”
I blink at the sudden turn in his voice. “I don’t know,” I admit. “They just can’t get away with this.”
“They’re going to. Because you know what? Guys like your brother and Franklin always do. That’s how the world works.” He comes toward me, backing me up against the counter. I stop, my hands against the Formica, and he hovers inches away from me. I can feel his anger and his intensity radiating off his handsome body. He’s so damn attractive, even with a black eye and a broken nose.