The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor(77)
Luke blinked. Was it possible...Jake was right?
“Your boss never should have given that order, son. Carter Owen never should have been near that bomb from the start. But you had his back. You always have everyone’s back. Now you need to be smart enough to pull your head out of the past and give yourself a fighting chance. Simon is not Carter. Simon is alive and well and probably driving Holly nuts already. He’s alive, Luke. And believe it or not, whether you like it or not, so are you. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can get on with your life. One that should include Holly.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HOLLY FLIPPED AIMLESSLY through the TV channels trying to land on something to take her mind off the day. She hit the volume control before it woke Simon. She’d promised Simon they could go back to the campsite and look for his notebook tomorrow if his head didn’t hurt.
Holly rubbed her fingers into gritty, sleepy eyes. Compromise wasn’t in her eight-year-old’s vocabulary—at least not today. The fact Simon had settled into bed and dropped off to sleep for—she glanced at her watch—two hours of silence seemed an impossible blessing. Barely three in the afternoon. Was it too early for wine?
And then there was Luke. Holly grabbed one of the couch pillows and hugged it against her chest. Tears burned her throat; not because he’d all but thrown her admission of love in her face, but because she couldn’t erase the tortured look in his eyes. The fact he blamed himself for Simon’s irresponsible behavior was both frustrating and endearing, but that same man who put everyone before himself couldn’t seem to accept he could be cared for in return.
She had no doubt, had Luke been offered the chance to switch places with her son, he would have in a heartbeat. Holly sobbed.
She missed him. Missed seeing him. Missed how he listened to her, teased her. Missed the sound of his voice. How was it possible after only a few hours? But the thought of not seeing him again, of him not wanting to see her... It just wasn’t an option.
She’d let her marriage to Gray die because she hadn’t felt it was worth fighting for. The thought of Luke slipping out of her life paralyzed her. She loved him. She wanted him. She needed him. Simon needed him.
Somehow she had to convince him he was wrong to say no to something incredible. Right now. She switched off the TV, threw the pillow aside and headed upstairs to get Simon. She could bundle him into the car and drive around to find Luke. Her son could sleep anywhere once he was off. If she had to carry him to the car, so be it.
She took the stairs two at a time, knocked softly on the ajar door, pushed it open. Her stomach dropped.
Simon’s bed was empty.
* * *
“SHERIFF, I THOUGHT you were taking the rest of the day off.” Ozzy dropped his feet off his desk and flopped forward in his chair.
“Change of plans.” Luke beelined for the coffeemaker as Cash circled around to Ozzy. “Any update on Kyle?”
“Fletch is out looking for him. There was a power outage over on Wasp Tail. Matt’s out there trying to help.”
“We’ll give it until tomorrow, then put out a BOLO to surrounding counties.” The kid didn’t have a license, but Luke wouldn’t put it past him to steal a car. “Simon said something about him being up to something near the campground—”
“Luke!” Holly slammed through the front door, shouting. “Simon’s gone. So’s his bike.”
Luke barely felt the hot coffee slosh over his hand. The panicked look on her face struck him as hard as that sledgehammer he’d wielded the other day.
“Did he leave a note?” Ozzy joined him at the counter, a frown marring his face.
“Yeah.” She shoved a scrap of paper at him. Luke could see she was fighting to stay calm. “He said something about finding his notebook and proving he was right. I told him we’d go look for it tomorrow, but...I should have realized he’d agreed too easily.”
“Holly, stop. This isn’t your fault. Simon does what—”
“Simon does what Simon wants to do?” Holly finished for him as she arched her eyebrows. “You don’t say?”
How could she possibly pull a smile out of him? But she did. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. Simon is smart. He always has a plan.” Even if those plans didn’t always end well.
“He’s hurt. The doctor said he needed rest—”
“He’s a rambunctious eight-year-old boy with a mind of his own. You raised him that way. He’s not stupid, Holly. He’s probably off on his bike somewhere playing deputy and looking for his notebook.” That was on him. He should have listened to Simon at the hospital when he’d wanted to give his report.