The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor(66)

The pity washing over Luke just then left him struggling against the tide of the past. What a sad life his father had led. How pathetic and meaningless.

When his father had unlocked the door to let him out, a new Luke had emerged; one who was ready to fight for his survival and for a life beyond misery and abuse.

His father had never raised a hand to him again.

It took years for Luke to recognize the expression on his father’s face that day as terror, but there had also been a very thin sliver of pride. That was the day the hatred had settled, building on itself as it had barricaded Luke’s heart from that day on.

A wall that had weakened twelve years ago by Jake’s forgiveness.

A wall Holly Campbell threatened to crumble completely.

There was nothing in this shed he wanted. Not the useless tools, the near-empty alcohol bottles or the jumbles of jars of nails and screws. Not the ancient radio that had kept Luke from losing his mind during his endless hours of incarceration. More than anything, Luke didn’t want the memories.

But there was one thing he could use.

Luke wrapped his hand around the handle of the sledgehammer and yanked it off the ground. He swung it over and down, letting it slam up and under the workbench, splitting the wood like an earthquake cracking the San Andreas Fault.

He swung again, and again. Jars crashed and flew. Tools thudded. He struck out against the walls, his pleasure expanding as the structure weakened and whined on its way to collapse.

Panting, sweating, he went outside and slammed the hammer into the side walls, again and again. His arms burned; his back screamed in pain as his scars protested, but nothing was stopping him. Not until this shed—this past—was a heap of rubble. His feet crunched over shattered glass as he took the hammer higher, heard the satisfying creak of collapsing wood.

With a howl of pain and anger, Luke took one more swing dead center of the shed and watched as it collapsed, plumes of dust and dirt erupting around it and him.

He let the sledgehammer drop and bent over, planting his hands on his knees as he drew in ragged breath after ragged breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing out the memories of the darkness, of the pain, of the loneliness, and instead embraced the image of Holly: her smile, her forgiveness, her laughter. Her touch.

His lungs ached as sweat dripped into his eyes. He stumbled to the ground, landing hard on his butt, startled out of his reverie by the nuzzling nose of Cash, who was whimpering as he pushed his head under Luke’s arm.

Luke opened his eyes and stared at the space where the shack had been moments before. Seeing it now, destroyed, where it couldn’t do any more damage to anyone—especially Luke’s soul—loosened a laugh Luke never thought he had in him.

Hugging Cash, he sighed. Something had broken loose inside him. Something that wasn’t finished yet, but it was on its way. “Good thing I took the day off,” Luke said to Cash as he shoved his hands deep into the dog’s fur and held on for dear life. “Let’s say we get this place cleaned out, yeah?”

“Woof.”

Luke pushed himself up, ignoring the continued burn along his back and arms. Pain made him feel alive. Pain he now embraced. No matter how hard his father had tried, Luke had survived.

Now it was time to live.

* * *

“YOU LOOK AS if you’ve gone three rounds with a heavyweight boxer,” Holly told Luke when he came into the diner early Friday afternoon. She resisted the urge to tell him she’d been hoping to see him before now. They’d been dancing around each other ever since he’d kissed her—as if he was afraid when they were alone again she’d let him have it. What would he think—what would he do—if he knew kissing him again had been at the forefront of her mind ever since she’d walked out of his house? “I thought today was your day off. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the camping trip?”

“Had to exorcise some ghosts.” Luke grimaced as he took a seat at the counter. “Took a little more effort than I anticipated.” His eyes were brighter than she’d ever seen.

Oh, boy. She needed to get her feelings under control. She and Luke were not a good idea. She and Simon were doing fine on their own, and besides, Luke had been more than clear he wasn’t a family man. He didn’t want ties, didn’t want obligations or responsibility. The last thing she needed was another man who felt trapped by her affection. Adding Luke Saxon to her already overflowing life was only asking for complications she didn’t need. Friends would work. Friends was safe.

Friends who brushed their hands together or smiled into each other’s eyes. Or shared a few kisses here and there...

Luke might not think he was family material, but his actions proved contrary. Simon could go on for eternity about all the things he was learning while working with his grandfather and Luke. Her son’s nonstop chattering about painting or power tools—who knew there were so many power tools?—or all the cool things Luke was teaching him did her heart good. It was difficult to fathom that a few short weeks ago Simon had been breaking and entering and computer hacking to try to drive Luke out of town.