The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor(83)

Cash barked.

The world shifted into slow motion as Luke turned toward the cabin. Winters stood there, a rifle in his hands, the barrel aimed directly at Luke’s chest. Luke’s body turned to ice.

Even from this distance, Luke heard the hammer cock.

The cabin exploded, the fire ripping over Luke like a tidal wave and blasting him off his feet. He felt himself flying backward, heat searing him, vicious, murderous, and yet he was soaring. There was no pain, no fear and then there was...

Nothing.

* * *

“WHEN IS HE going to wake up, Mom?”

In the past four days Holly had developed an extended strength of patience she hadn’t known it was possible to possess. Every time Simon asked her the same question, every inquiry she’d made of Luke’s doctors, every gracious offering of assistance to help run the diner in her absence... It should have made her crumble.

Instead, all she had to do was look at Luke, lying in his hospital bed, wearing more bandages than Simon would probably see in his lifetime, to know where she belonged.

“When he’s ready.” She stroked Simon’s hair, grateful her little boy still felt comfortable enough to sit on her lap and let her read to him as they waited for Luke’s mind to catch up with his body.

She had no pity for the late Rex Winters, whose arrogance and anger had cost him his own life and nearly Holly’s son’s. Had Luke been standing even a few feet closer to that cabin, he would have gone up with it along with Winters. Would there come a day Holly wouldn’t see the explosion every time she closed her eyes? The doctors had been stunned Luke hadn’t suffered a traumatic brain injury, but the severe concussion was more than enough for Holly to worry about. As was Luke’s broken left leg and six badly bruised ribs. If that blast had gone out instead of up, Luke wouldn’t have been thrown back into the overgrown clearing of weeds and grass, which had cushioned most of his fall.

He could not have been luckier.

The fact that Gil Hamilton, along with several other folks in town, had paid Luke more than one visit was proof Luke had made a lasting impression on the people of Butterfly Harbor. If only he’d wake up so she could tell him so. She’d stayed at his side, waiting, screaming for the ambulance, hoping, praying and wishing for Luke to stay with her. When they’d finally loaded him on to the stretcher and wheeled him away, she’d looked down and saw Simon’s notebook. She took it as a sign. Luke wasn’t going to die. Not after all he’d done, all the promises he’d kept.

She wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

Today was the first day she wasn’t jumping out of her skin. She’d finally stopped dwelling on “what if Luke had been too late to save Simon?” He hadn’t been. Just as he’d promised. Her boy was safe and sound, and reveling in the dozens of signatures he continued to collect on his cast. He’d even exceeded her expectations when it came to looking after Cash.

“But Luke should be ready now.” Simon tapped his knuckles against his neon blue cast. The break in his arm had been clean, but the cast was proving to be a weapon of mass destruction. He’d managed to knock two holes in the walls of their house and taken out three of her baking canisters in the kitchen. “He wants to marry you.”

It wasn’t the first time her son had made this pronouncement, but she wished he’d refrain from putting ideas in Luke’s sleeping brain. She had little doubt Luke had said a lot of things to Simon during their time in the cabin. She wasn’t going to hold him to anything. All she wanted was for Luke to wake up and be okay. Anything else would be a bonus. “Simon, we talked about this.”

“But he told me, Mom. He said he wants both of us, even though I’m troublesome.”

“He called you troublesome?” Holly frowned. Okay, it was true, but she never would have told her son that. She couldn’t believe Luke would have, either.

“Not Luke.” Simon shook his head. “Dad. Before he went away. You two were fighting and Dad said he needed a break because I was so troublesome. And then he never came back. Was it my fault?”

“Simon.” Holly shifted Simon in her lap and turned him to face her. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you’d heard that?”

Simon shrugged and stood up. “Talking about Dad makes you cry. I make you cry enough already.”

“Your father loved you very much,” Holly said, seeing so much of Gray in Simon’s face she ached. He’d miss so much. “But he had a lot of problems.” One of which had been not knowing when to keep his mouth shut. But she was done blaming Gray for anything. He was gone, and while he’d always be Simon’s father, it was time for Holly to put him and his faults to rest. “I’m sure if he was here he’d be very sorry he said it.”