by Frankie Love
Closing my eyes in the empty kitchen, I relax against the counter. My hand slips under my leggings, under my panties, and I touch myself, rolling my fingers against my wetness, rubbing in tight circles as my clit begins to throb.
I moan, so quickly thrumming with pleasure. Damn, it feels good to give in. Quicker and quicker I grind against myself, my fingers soaked and my panties damp.
Maybe I should go to my bed, strip down to nothing. I could grab my vibrator, getting off until I come all over my sheets, until my release pours down my thighs. Luke licking me. Luke pressing his cock inside me. Luke running his hands over my breasts, sucking them until my nipples are hard against his palms.
With my eyes closed, I gasp, coming against my fingers. Coming against the memory. It feels so real.
The doorbells rings.
I open my eyes, panting. My pussy is tender, raw. Looking around, the afternoon sun streams through the kitchen window.
The doorbell rings again.
Turning on the sink, I wash my hands quickly, drying them on a towel as I walk to the door. No one has been here since I moved in.
Speak of the devil.
Luke, Chris and Stacy are standing on the front porch, grinning.
"Oh my fucking god!" Stacy squeals, pulling me into a hug.
I laugh, so caught off guard, and also so nearly caught red-handed.
"What are you guys doing here?" I ask, shaking my head, a smile across my face. It’s been so long.
"Luke told us you moved back." Stacy hits my shoulder playfully. "You freak, I can’t believe I haven’t talked to you in three years. I think you’re the only human on the planet without Facebook. I tried to stalk you but it was impossible."
"I know. I’m kinda off the grid," I say apologetically. The truth is, Gram has always been my only family. My parents died in a car crash when I was a baby, and she’s all I have. All I had. When I moved to New York, my focus was culinary school, later, my pastry internship. I’m a certified workaholic, which is why Gram’s place is already a home.
"Well, you can’t hide in Willow Creek for very long."
"I know." I shrug. "I don’t want to hide. I’m right here. What you see is what you get." I look at the boys. Chris’ eyes pierce mine, and I swallow, remembering the last time I saw his face. He saw Luke and me kissing… and then he stormed away.
But he plays it cool and pulls me into a hug. I’m relieved that he doesn’t seem to hold any animosity against me. "Damn, Hayley Adams, in the flesh. Talk about a ghost from the past."
Luke just gives me a soft smile, but it isn’t all easy-breezy. He’s carrying something like a noose around his neck. I see it in his eyes, his dark exterior. What was once all bright and beautiful looks ragged, worn. Raw.
"You guys wanna come in?" I wave them in, and they follow, Stacy talking the whole time.
"Shit, I haven’t been in here forever. Luke told us your Gram died. Sorry, Hay."
"The last few years were really hard for her, but she’s in a better place now," I say. I notice Stacy, Luke and Chris exchange a look, but they don’t say anything besides how sorry they are. I change the subject, knowing no one wants to talk about death.
"So the Barton boys are back in town?" Grabbing a plate of cookies from the counter, I set them on the kitchen table. "Help yourselves," I say, starting a pot of coffee.
Chris grabs a gingersnap, chewing and talking at the same time. "Yeah, I’ve been back awhile. I have a contracting business now. Barton Construction."
"Fancy," I say, impressed, pulling the half and half from the fridge and some mugs from the cabinet. "Did you finish up at Washington University?"
The three of them exchange another look, and I must look confused because Stacy interjects. "Hey, do you need any help unpacking? Let us do something. It's not every day an old bestie moves home."
We all stop and look around the room.
"Still an overachiever, huh?" Luke asks, a real smile on his face as he accepts a cup of coffee from me before I hand out the rest of the mugs. "You’ve been here a few days and already have a carved pumpkin on the front porch, homemade cookies for visitors, and put all the furniture where it belongs."
"You don’t miss a detail, do you?"
"Not when you’ve been where I’ve been."
Feeling like some cryptic conversation is continuing, I twist my lips before saying, "Actually, you’re a contractor, Chris? My bathroom sink is leaking and I can’t seem to fix it. And the toilet is running constantly. Thank god this house is on a well, my water bill would be insane."
"Of course, Hay. Let me grab my tools from the truck." Chris sets down his cup of coffee. "Luke, wanna help?"
Luke nods and the boys leave through the front door. The moment they are gone, I look at Stacy.
"What’s going on with you guys? You and Chris are together? What else? I feel like there’s something you aren’t saying."
"Do you have anything stronger than coffee?" Stacy purses her lips. "Because darling, you’re gonna need it."
Ignoring her comment, I sit at the table across from her and try again. "It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Stacy. I never thought you would come back to Willow Creek."
"Same to you. But here we are."
"What brought you back?"
"The Bartons, really."
"Why?"
"I never got as far as you did, Hay, barely made it to Portland before I came back home. You were already across the country, and you never looked back. Which I get, honestly. You didn’t know what happened here, so no one holds it against you that you didn’t reach out." She raises her hands, not letting me apologize.
"What are you talking about? What happened?"
"Julie was murdered, Hayley."
The air rushes out of the room, and my head spins. "Julie Barton?"
Stacy nods, reaching for my hands, and my eyes well with tears as the front door opens. Stacy waves the boys away and they must get the message because I hear them walking down the hall toward the bathroom without a word.
"It happened two years ago," Stacy begins. "Maybe a little longer. She was dragged into the woods, then raped and murdered, all by some crazy man who just snapped. It was horrible. She was so young, only fifteen. Everyone was really shaken up about it, of course. It’s why Chris came back home, quit school."
Wiping my eyes, I try to steady my words, steady my heart. "Is that why Luke came home too? I mean, he doesn’t even look like the same person anymore."
Stacy looks down at her hands, shaking her head softly, speaking quietly in a tone I’ve never heard her use before. "That’s why I said we needed a stiffer drink. Luke just got out of prison, Hay."
"What?" I cover my mouth, shocked. Luke, the golden boy, the quarterback with a full ride and fuller future? "Prison?"
"He went after Julie’s killer a few months later, and when the murderer’s body was found, strangled to death, Luke was convicted."
"Holy shit," I say. "But he’s out of prison now, so does that mean…?"
"His lawyer got him off, not enough evidence, and there have been a string of murders since he was locked away. All the victims were criminals of some sort, all strangled the same way. But I mean, regardless, Luke was in prison for almost two years. That changes a person."
"When did he get out?"
"A few months back. Chris gave him a job and he’s trying to get his life together."
"And their dad, Lee? Is he okay?"
Stacy’s face flushes, but she nods. "He’s fine. I mean, he drinks more than he probably should, but he’s managing. He and Luke don’t really talk, though. It was all really messy when he was convicted."
I try to imagine what it would be like to watch your son go to jail the same time your daughter was murdered. Losing two children at once.
"It’s all so tragic." I don’t know what else to say. That I’m sorry? That Julie was a beautiful girl? That it’s all such a waste? None of it seems like enough. None of it scratches t
he surface of the heartbreak the Bartons have faced.
"I know, right? My mom called, told me about it right after it happened. I came home for the funeral and never left. I’ve been working at the biker bar, hanging out with Chris. Just trying to live life. Trying to make sense of things."
"Who killed Julie’s murderer then?" I ask.
Stacy shakes her head. "I have no fucking clue. But I’ll tell you this, I’ve never once been able to walk alone at night in Willow Creek since I came back. It’s freaky."
I stand, needing to find my footing on something, because this conversation has floored me. "I’ll take that drink right about now," I tell her. She nods and picks up her buzzing phone.
Walking to the fridge, I pull out a few beers just as Luke and Chris come back into the kitchen, tool box in tow.
Chris grabs one, handing it off to Stacy who is answering a text. "Who are you talking to?"
"No one." She tosses her phone back on the table and takes the offered beer. She clinks her bottle against his. "Cheers." I watch them and notice that Stacy won’t look him in the eye; it’s weird. She keeps glancing at the phone.
"Hey," Luke says, leaning against the kitchen counter. The same counter I was touching myself on just before they arrived. I hop up on it opposite him, scared to look in his eyes, because I know my own eyes betray me. Thankfully, he takes the lead. "You guys unbury the past while we fixed your faucet?"
"Luke," I start, but my voice cracks on the single syllable.
"Shh," he says, ignoring the argument Chris and Stacy are having behind us. "Hey, it’s okay," he tells me, as my shoulders shake.
"She was so beautiful, so happy. So young."
"I know, Hayley. I know." Luke runs his hand over his strong jaw, his presence powerful and protective, and when he says he knows, I believe him.
"Fuck, I made it all intense, didn’t I?" Stacy moans, walking over to us, breaking whatever spell was cast on Luke and me.
Then again, it seems that whenever he and I are alone, there is some sort of incantation swirling around us, binding us together.
"You didn’t do anything, Hayley needed to know. She’s been gone a long time," Luke says, straightening his shoulders as if attempting to lighten the somber mood.
"Too long, I think." I take a swig of the pumpkin beer and shake my head.
"Well, you’re back now," Chris says. "We should go out, do something fun. Just the four of us."
I like the sound of that. Clearly these three have been through the wringer; they deserve to have a good time. "We could go to the Halloween Festival?"
Luke twists his lips, hesitating.
"What? It could be fun," I try.
"I don’t know," Stacy says. "I just like to get drunk on Halloween, I don’t need to go to a festival to do that."
"What’s new?" Luke says a little too sharply.
"I think it sounds fun," Chris says. "I mean, if you wanna go, Hayley."
"You really want to spend your Saturday night getting drunk with half of Willow Creek?" Luke asks.
"What? You have something else to do?" Stacy shoots back.
Their catty exchange makes me realize everyone has a history in this town.
"Okay, whatever, we can go, I just..." Luke shrugs, defeated.
As if the plans are decided, Stacy grabs her purse and Chris picks up his toolbox, saying goodbye. Before Luke turns to go, I grab his hand.
"You just what?" I ask.
"I just want things to be easy," he says, turning to face me. "They’ve been way too fucking hard." And then he surprises me, laces his fingers through mine, and pulls my knuckles to his lips. He kisses them softly, almost as if they might break. The thing is, I think it’s Luke who has the fragile hands, and a fragile heart.
He has seen too much, gone too far.
I may have crossed the country, but I think Luke might be the one who has been the farthest from home.
The horn on Chris’s truck honks loudly and Luke steps away.
"Tomorrow?" I ask, knowing my voice reveals so much. Everything.
"Tomorrow," he answers without any hesitation.
I watch him leave, knowing he’ll be back.
6
Luke
It's only a day before Halloween, and after finishing up work on the Petersons' house, I decide to pay a visit to my father.
To say our relationship has been strained since what happened with Julie is an understatement. But I also know—I am still his son, and he will always be my father. I am loyal to my family. Spending two years in jail, I learned blood isn't water. And fuck, don't I know it as I walk to the sheriff's office.
"You're using him."
"So what? Like you've never used anyone before?"
I hear voices as I approach the door leading into my father's study, and I furrow my brows as I listen to them fighting. They're familiar and I recognize them as my father and none other than Stacy.
I don't want to eavesdrop, so I knock loudly to make sure they know I'm coming.
"Come in," my father calls out gruffly, and I step inside.
It's decked out in beautiful, buttery wood and expensive furniture. My father has always taken pride in his appearance, and it seems as if he's been doing anything and everything to distract himself from our harsh reality, including shopping for decor for his office.
I understand, I really fucking do.
Ever since we lost Julie, I've been trying to fill the hole left behind. I guess dad just found a better way of coping with his sorrow than I did.
"Hello, Luke," Stacy says when she sees me walk in.
"Hi," I reply, giving my father a curt nod, which he returns. He's wearing a sharp suit, looking handsome even though he’s in his sixties now.
People tell me I look like my father.
I hope to God I don't take after him.
"You can leave now, Stacy," my father tells my brother's girlfriend, and she shoots him an annoyed look. "Show yourself out, please."
She moves in to hug me, but I step aside, making her even angrier. I swear to God she flirts with anything and everything that has a damn cock.
She leaves the office, muttering something to herself, and slams the door behind her loudly. The tension is suddenly more oppressing as only my father and I remain in this overcrowded space.
"What was that all about?" I ask him, motioning towards the door. "You guys all buddy-buddy now?"
"Of course not," my father replies. "I've heard some rumors."
"Like what?" I sit down in front of his desk without an invitation. He seems annoyed. He takes a seat as well and sighs deeply, running his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.
"Like she's sleeping around," he says. "I know she's been making eyes at you. But I heard there might be more to it than just flirting."
"Shit," I mutter back. "I never thought she'd actually cheat on Chris."
"First time for everything," he replies. "I'm gonna get to the bottom of it, I promise you that."
"Just..." I swallow hard.
"Just what?" My father gives me an unrelenting look.
"Make sure Chris doesn't get hurt," I reply, clearing my throat.
"He's not some fucking delicate flower," my father says gruffly. He's always been like this about Chris. Maybe because my brother is more sensitive than I am. I know the tragedy with Julie left its mark on him, more so than me and my father. And I know my father sees Julie in Chris—they look so much alike, it's painful.
"He needs to grow a pair," Dad continues, and I choose not to respond. I'm not here to get into a fucking fight, but I'm worried I'll start one if I don't bite my goddamn tongue. I hate it when dad talks shit about my brother.
"Why are you here, anyway?" he asks. He’s clearly pissed off and I realize my visit here was a mistake. I get up from the chair and smooth down my shirt. I even fucking dressed up, changing from my sweaty T-shirt before showing up in dad's office.
Lot of fucking good that did.
"Neve
r mind," I say. "I thought it'd be nice to see you. It's... Halloween tomorrow."
"You think I don't fucking know that?" Dad slams a fist onto his desk and gets up as well.
"Let's not fight," I say calmly, hoping to defuse the situation. "Let's honor Julie's memory and do something nice tomorrow."
"No," he replies angrily. "No fucking sob fests. It's time we got over it. It's been two years, for God's sake."
I just stare at him, at a loss for words. "She was your daughter," I remind him. "Don't you want to… God, I don't know, light a fucking candle or something?"
Dad approaches me, intimidating, enormous and raging like a bull. "You think I don't remember her?" he says, practically spitting in my face. "I remember what happened every minute of every day. Every goddamn minute.”
I raise a hand to calm him down, but he just repeats himself. "Every goddamn minute!"
After a moment of silence, I finally say, "All right. I'll leave. Deal with your own pain, old man.”
"Yeah," he mutters, moving away from me. "Yeah, you do that."
Something I can't make out follows and I reluctantly head for the door. With my hand on the knob, I risk one look back at my father. He's back in his chair, suddenly looking much older.
I know life's been tough on him. Losing a daughter, a son being sent to fucking jail, and now this crap with Chris and Stacy. I know he's stressed, I know he's close to losing it. So am I.
But there's this distance between us; there has been ever since Julie's death. I’m not quite sure why or if we’ll ever get back to how things were.
"Bye, Dad," I mutter before heading out of his office.
He doesn't reply.
"You about ready, Stace?" my brother calls up the staircase, giving me a smile. "We're running late, babe."
"In a minute!" she yells back, sounding stressed and annoyed.
"God, what is she doing in there?" I ask, rolling my eyes. "She's taking fucking ages. Stacy! Come on already. Hay is waiting."
"God, you're annoying," she bitches, finally click-clacking down the stairs in her high heels.
I give her a once-over while Chris enthusiastically compliments her on her outfit. Her eyes are on me, but I don't bother making a comment. I guess she does look nice, but I’ve never looked at Stacy that way. And honestly, her outfit is a bit much for my taste.