The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor(64)

Luke was silent, as if processing what Holly had said. “When I went into his room at the hospital, all I could think was this was it. I was going to jail. I’d spent so many years wishing, wanting my father to be locked up, and in the end it was going to be me who would go down for doing something unforgivable. Do you know what Jake said to me the second I walked in?”

Holly shook her head, gripping tighter when he tried to pull free.

“He said, ‘You’re better than him. You always have been. Now you need to prove it to yourself.’ He was in so much pain,” Luke continued. “Yet he told me he was proud of me, because I’d done what my father had never been able to do—I accepted responsibility for what happened. I was ready to take whatever punishment Jake and the courts saw fit to bestow.”

“And less than a week later you were gone.” That was the one part she’d never understood. How he could have just left.

“Your dad pulled some strings with an old navy buddy of his. It took some convincing, and I had to turn eighteen. My father never would have signed off on me going into the service. The morning of my eighteenth birthday, I went back to your father’s hospital room, signed the papers and was on a bus that afternoon.” He hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure if he should go on.

“What?” she prompted.

“I remember Jake saying one day I’d come back and prove he hadn’t made a mistake. He told me he had faith in me, that he was proud of me.”

Holly’s eyes burned as he tightened his hand in hers.

“No one had ever said those words to me before.” Still holding her hand, he reached up and pushed up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing his biceps and a tattoo, partially obscured by burn scars. “And I never forgot.”

She leaned forward to read the intersecting words—Be Proud and Believe—and under, the date of her father’s accident. However easy it had been to breathe moments before, her lungs felt constricted.

“I never let myself forget what I was capable of, Holly. Or what I was responsible for. And I swore, as I was getting this inked into my skin, I would never be like my father. No kids, no family. It doesn’t seem to matter how many years pass, I’m still a risk and I won’t burden anyone with the monster that could very well be sleeping inside me. Despite that, I swore to do whatever it took to make your father worthy of the faith he put in me.”

“You’ve done that.” Holly’s heart twisted as she wished she’d been kinder, more understanding, more forgiving. Or that she’d taken the time to listen to her father when he’d tried to tell her the truth about that night. That it was a perfect storm of horrendous events that everyone was equally responsible for. That Luke would take things so far as to believe he was capable of becoming his father made her ache inside. She’d never imagined one man could put himself through this much pain over one mistake. That she might have played into it with her repeated reaction to him was something she’d have to come to terms with. “You’ve done that and more. You’re one of the most decent men I’ve ever met.”

Luke pulled his hand from hers and got to his feet, carried his plate and coffee to the sink and stashed the leftover pie in the small fridge.

“Well.” Holly cleared her throat. “I guess this means we’ve cleared the air once and for all.” She reached down to pet Cash as the dog came over and nudged her leg with his head. She scratched behind his ears, wishing she had something more profound to say. “I’m glad we’re finally friends, Luke.” As she expected, the words tasted bitter and somehow disappointing on her lips.

“Is that what we are?” He kept his back to her, hands braced on the sink as he bowed his head.

“Wasn’t that the word you used? What else would we be?” The second the question was out of her mouth she wanted to call it back. The danger sign that had blazed on in her mind the night of Simon’s near arrest blinked to life. This was not a road she could go down again. No matter how much she might want to.

She stood, tugged the hem of her T-shirt down over the waistband of her jeans and went to grab her purse. But when she plucked it off the floor and turned toward the door, she found him behind her, his presence all but surrounding her. Enveloping her. She closed her eyes, inhaled the scent of soap and the barest sweetness of berries. Her head spun. “Luke.” She blinked her eyes open, she saw his hand come up, felt him cup her cheek in her palm. She leaned into his warm touch, fought every instinct roaring to life within her. He inched closer, his eyes pinned to hers as his lips descended, slowly, so slowly she might have screamed in frustration. And then he kissed her. Soft, gentle, a promise, a hint. Nothing more.