The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor(48)

There was little worse in this world than a teenager teetering on the edge of despair, which was why Luke had stashed the fifteen-round automatic he’d found in Kyle’s bag under lock and key back at the station. Until he spoke to Kyle face-to-face, got a better feel for him, Luke wasn’t going to rest easy. If he’d had access to a gun, who knows what else he had stashed away wherever he was.

Part of Luke wanted to believe the gun was for protection against a father who obviously had no qualms about beating the daylights out of the boy—whether in private or in public. But if Kyle wasn’t home a lot...that possibility seemed remote.

Luke squeezed the steering wheel. Maybe he was projecting his own experiences onto the kid. Things had gotten bad enough for him he’d taken to losing himself in the same liquid darkness his father had succumbed to rather than targeting the rest of the world as responsible for his lot in life.

But Kyle wasn’t Luke.

What it had taken to kick him out of his own situation was almost killing Jake Gordon.

There were nights he wondered what would have happened if he’d never picked up the phone that night, if he hadn’t agreed to Jake’s request he come pick his father up at the Dusty Rose. His dad had gone on a bender that would have tested the alcohol tolerance of the god of wine himself.

If Luke hadn’t gotten in the car that night, Jake’s life and Holly’s wouldn’t have been derailed; her mother might never have left. And Luke would probably be lying in a grave next to his dead daddy. Or worse.

How could something that had gone so wrong given him so much? Luke reached over and stroked his hand down Cash’s head, taking comfort once again in the dog’s presence.

“We need to find Kyle, boy.” Luke’s fingers curled into the soft fur. “You have any ideas, I’m open to them.”

“Woof.”

“Yeah.” Luke pressed his foot on the accelerator and headed up the hill and to the outskirts of town, back to the house that had never been a home.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“I THOUGHT YOU and Charlie were going to go out bike riding again today.” Holly looked up from filling the first tray of salt-and peppershakers. “What’s going on?”

Simon shrugged. He was halfway through his second new schoolbook, but for the few minutes Holly had been watching him, he hadn’t turned a page.

“You two have a fight?” Holly pressed.

Another shrug.

“Charlie’s acting the same way.” Paige brought over a second tray. “Says she doesn’t feel well. Just wants to stay in her new room and read.”

“You let her have the bedroom, didn’t you?” Typical mom.

“Of course.” Paige looked at Holly as if there wasn’t another option. “She’s never really had one to herself. Well, not since she was a baby, but she doesn’t remember. She loves the apartment, by the way, and I’m sure she’ll thank you herself if and when she stops moping around and faking a fever.”

“How high did she get the thermometer?”

“One hundred and ten.” Paige chuckled. “Stuck it in her hot chocolate, I’m assuming. I’m letting it play out for a while yet, but she knows if she doesn’t come to me about whatever’s bothering her soon, I’ll wheedle it out of her.”

Holly arched a brow.

“My mac and cheese,” Paige said. “She’ll tell me anything for my homemade mac and cheese. I have a secret ingredient. Cheesy crackers as the topping.”

Holly’s stomach rumbled as she mouthed a silent ooh.

“You planning another run on my kitchen, girl?” Ursula’s accusation blasted from the kitchen window.

“No, ma’am.” Paige bit her lip and shot a guilty look at Holly. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Holly grinned. “Don’t worry about it. She already asked me yesterday about your kitchen-sink breakfast. I saw her scribbling down notes. If things get nasty, offer up your mac and cheese. That’ll smooth things over.” It would make Holly exceedingly happy, as well. Nothing better than hot pasta and gooey cheese.

“Speaking of kitchen sink, you and Luke. There, um, anything going on there?”

Holly’s face went hot. She could only imagine the shade of pink tinting her cheeks as she grabbed the ketchup bottles and turned them over on one another. “We’re getting to be friends. I think.”

Friends was good. Friends was...something she wasn’t sure she’d ever been with Gray. With her husband it had been sparks, then fire then...barely smoldering embers as real life and personal demons took over. Maybe enough time had passed, or maybe it was her honest and unexpected heart-to-heart with Luke that had plucked the final sting of anger away. Now there was only sadness when she thought of Gray. She tried to remember if there had been anything beyond the intoxicating rush of first love and the excitement of romance and fantasy.