6. Luke
6
Luke
T hwack.
Pulling the axe from the center of the wood, I feel reverberations vibrate through my hands. The air around me carries the scent of freshly cut wood as I wheel the axe behind my shoulder, taking aim once more. Another precise thwack echoes around me, splitting the log in half.
Beads of moisture drip from my brow, soaking my shirt. With a quick swipe, I clear the sweat before grabbing another piece. It’s June and the warmth of summer is setting in, the air damp with humidity warning of a coming storm.
Splitting the log easily in two, I set my axe against the sturdy base. Rough bark scratches my arms as I load up several pieces and carry them to the stack on the side of my house.
Being a lumberjack isn’t a hobby I intentionally set out to do. When I was little, I’d find Dad in the backyard almost daily, swinging this same axe, adding wood to a pile. He’d get caught up talking to neighbors who’d stop by. That’s one thing he was good at—attracting people to him, like moths to a flame. The sheer amount of wood we had stored at the house always confused me. But when he was asked about it, he’d just say, “We take care of family, and that means keeping ’em warm.”
As a young boy, I strived to make my parents happy. Where they went, I’d be right behind. When I turned thirteen, Dad finally taught me how to use an axe. At first, my weak arms couldn’t match his skills, but over time, I became stronger and stronger. Sometimes, while chopping wood together, we’d talk about life, but mostly we just worked in companionable silence.
After I learned of his cancer diagnosis, I became even more focused trying to do everything he did. I didn’t think my mom or Sutton should be doing backbreaking work, so I stepped up, taking over majority of his tasks.
After he passed, my body and mind craved physical release. Chopping wood became a form of therapy for me. I wonder now if maybe he felt that way too. Most days I’m out here, swinging this damn axe, and when I do, the weight of the world fades. Even if only for a little while.
From the corner of my eye, a sandy-brown dog runs past and into my yard. He turns sharply before zipping back to his side. I shake my head, and my eyes wander over to his owner, my breath catching in my chest.
Greer.
She stands there, arms braced across her middle, watching her dog run circles around our joined yards like a racetrack. I’m dumbstruck watching her, much like I am every time I lay eyes on her. Even when I’m not around her, the image of her standing in her nightgown, illuminated by the early morning sunlight fills my thoughts.
Today, she’s wearing a light pink sundress, her feet bare. Golden waves of hair hang well past the middle of her back. When she turns to grab a toy, a rather large scar on the lower half of her leg catches my eye. You’d have to suffer a serious injury to get a scar like that. I wonder if it has something to do with her husband’s death.
It’s hard to remember when Greer moved next door. House went from empty to full of her overnight. One night I ended up meeting her parents as they left her house. They seem like good people. A bit too enthusiastic and definitely protective.
“You’ll keep an eye out for our girl?” Her father asked me.
“Yes, sir,” I assured him. It’s already proven to be an easy task.
Seems I can’t keep my eyes from finding her any chance I get. I’ll catch a glimpse of her in the yard with her dog or reading on her back porch. I’ve been tempted to approach her many times, but she always has this faraway look on her face, lost in her own thoughts. So I let her be.
“He’s dead.” I hadn't expected her to blurt those two words out in such a matter-of-fact way. They hung heavily in the air between us. In my line of work, I know horrible things can happen at any moment, but she seems so young to be a widow.
The other night under the stars, I had to deny the urge to pepper her with questions. I’m surprised how long we talked and how honest and open she was. A few times, I thought she was going to disappear inside, but she stayed. I was already curious about Greer, but now that curiosity rages like an inferno in my chest.
Grief is a motherfucker. I know that firsthand. For some, they retreat internally, wanting to be left alone to process. If you nudge them too much, they might not ever find their way back to the light. Mom was like that. I, on the other hand, was the opposite. I wanted to fix everything, wanted to lessen the burden I know losing our dad caused for Mom and Sutton.
A chuckle escapes Greer as her old fool of a dog runs between her legs about knocking her on her ass in his attempt to get his energy out. You’d never know he was such an old guy based on his speed and agility. The only proof he’s not as young as he acts is his gray-tipped ears and matching luster in his coat.
“Hey now, dog!” She wags her finger at him. “You gotta be careful with me, remember?”
The dog, Duke-not-Luke, sits on his haunches, head canting side to side in understanding. She runs her hand over the top of his head, rubbing his ears. Her wide smile never leaves her face. I’ve never been drawn toward a woman like am to Greer, nor have I met a woman as naturally beautiful as her.
Hooking my fingers in my suspenders, I watch them. Greer tosses a brown and yellow toy. Duke immediately rushes after it, catching it mid-air. Once it’s in his mouth, he trots back to her, squeaking the toy as loudly as possible. She tosses it again, but this time, it lands near me.
As I reach to retrieve the squeaky hot dog, I hear another laugh escape from Greer. Duke bounds toward me, his ears flopping up and down, and sits at my feet. When my gaze turns toward Greer, she’s looking at me with rosy-colored cheeks.
“Hey, boy, is this your hot dog?” I ask Duke, squeaking and shaking his toy back and forth. I rear back and toss it for him.
“Hey, you,” I say. Greer’s frozen as I take a few tentative steps in her direction.
She looks side to side as if someone else magically appeared in her yard. “Hi.” Her mouth quirks up on the side.
“How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been g-good.” She looks back at her porch. It doesn’t take a genius to sense her desire to run and hide in the safety of her home. “I love this neighborhood.”
“Same. I really love that,” I say, pointing to the wooded preserve behind our houses.
“You go in there?”
“Yeah, I hike back there a lot.” Duke drops the toy at my feet, so I toss it farther this time. “If you follow that little path, it leads to a small lake. It's a nice place to drop a line every now and then.”
“Drop a line?” She purses her lips.
“Fishing.” I smile, noticing her shoulders lower. “You ever been fishing?”
“Um, no. I can’t say that I have. I know, how can you grow up in a state like this and never go fishing? Dad isn’t really the outdoorsy type, so we never went.” She shrugs, a smile so close to appearing.
“We should go sometime.” Without thought, I step close, crowding her. Freckles dust over her nose and cheekbones. She’s so beautiful. The pink fabric of her dress rustles in the breeze, and my fingers reach out, unable to resist touching the corner.
“Really?” Her eyes zero in on where my fingers toy with her dress. My heart rate speeds up as her breathing evens out. I’ve never felt like this around another woman before. I barely know her, and yet, she pulls me to her.
“Yes, really.” My immediate response brings her eyes back to mine. I could get lost in them. “Would you like to go fishing with me?”
At first, I’m not sure she’s going to answer because she stands completely still, eyes staring intently into mine. I see her mulling it over, as if she’s going through all the possible reasons why she shouldn’t say yes.
“I barely know you,” she says, “and you want to take me fishing at a lake somewhere out there?” She gestures broadly toward the trees.
I laugh. “I see your point, but we’re neighbors now, and it’s not like I’m asking you to go right this second. We’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other. And, if needed, I can provide excellent references before I take you there .” I make a similar gesture as hers. “Plus, it’ll be fun.” I’m hoping like hell my desperation isn’t that obvious and that she says yes. Her eyes narrow. My fingers twitch in apprehension.
“Yes,” she finally whispers. “I think maybe I would like to go fishing with you someday .”
“Great, I’m looking forward to someday. ” Letting the fabric of her dress fall from my fingers, I step back, trying to convince my heart to slow.
“Awesome.” I love her sweet smile. Duke bumps into her leg, and she hisses out in pain. “Duke, you gotta be careful.”
Squatting down, she tosses his toy again before rubbing the bottom of her leg, the one with the large scar. I’m desperate to ask her about it, but I tuck that question away for later.
“Sorry, he gets so rambunctious,” she says. “I’m not quite back to normal yet.”
“That’s okay. Normal is overrated anyway.” She tilts her head up to study me. Not a stitch of makeup covers her pale complexion. I wonder how soft her skin is. “Hey, a few friends are coming over tonight for a bonfire and card games. You should stop by.”
“I—um, no.” Her reply is automatic. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Greer, you wouldn’t be an imposition.” Needing to get back to work, I head to my yard. “Tell you what,”—I turn back to her, holding my hands out to each side. Her shoulders raise minutely—“if you feel up to it, stop by. If not, no hard feelings.”
“I—it’s hard for me. You know what? Never mind.” She worries her lip between her teeth and fidgets with her hands. “I’m not making any promises, but we’ll see.” She stares at her feet before looking me square in the eyes.
There ya go, Greer. It’s just me.
With a nod, I walk back to my side and place a new log on the stump. She’s still standing there, dog at her feet, watching me as I reach for my axe. It slices through the air before cleaving the wood, the sharp sound cutting through the silence. I replace it with another piece and swing again, the rhythm of the blows steady and familiar. I don’t have to look to know she’s still watching me—her gaze one I can feel without seeing.
The best thing about Suncrest Valley is its cool summer nights. About once a month, our group likes to get together and blow off steam. The guys and I are all first responders, which makes it all too easy to exhaust yourself physically and mentally and become jaded. It can be easy to forget about the simple joys of real life—hanging out with friends, drinking beer, eating good food, and playing games. The group voted without me, and my house became ground zero for our get-togethers because according to them, I have the best yard.
Arguably, it is. It’s the perfect backdrop, but I’m positive they chose my house because I’ll do the cooking. I’ve got my mom to thank for my skills in the kitchen. “Full belly, full heart,” she always says.
After adding a few more spices to the meat mixture, I form the burgers while Sutton finishes the veggies for the salad.
“Did I tell you I went for coffee with Greer?” she says.
“Oh yeah?”
“She’s a quiet one, isn’t she?”
“I guess so.”
“Have you talked with her much since she moved in?”
“Few times, yeah. You know a lot about her?” I place the last burger patty on the tray before turning to wash my hands. I’m hoping Sutton will have some insider information.
“She was in my grade in high school. Always seemed good at school but was kind of a loner.” After tossing the ingredients together, Sutton turns to get the dressings from the fridge as well as the potato salad I made earlier.
“I didn’t know she went to school with us.”
“Didn’t know who went to school with us?” Hunter steps into the kitchen to grab another beer.
“Greer Ashbury.” Sutton’s tone is sharper than normal.
“You know what happened to her, right?” Hunter leans back on the counter, crossing his feet at the ankles.
“No,” I lie. I know Greer said her husband died in a car accident, but I don’t know any details. When it comes to her, I know I have to tread lightly. Any information I can learn now will save me from putting my foot in my mouth later.
“Her husband died,” Sutton murmurs.
“She did tell me that.”
“Did she tell you she was in the car with him?” Hunter’s voice rises as he takes a swig of his beer. My hands pause.
That explains so damn much.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember this, man?” Hunter says.
“Remember what?” I question, focusing on the burgers. How can he think I’d willingly remember every detail of every call? Why wouldn’t I block out really bad shit when I’ve got patients to attend to? Hell, my own mind would be a minefield if I allowed every detail to take root.
“I swear,” he shakes his head. “It was last year. We went on that call, the one where the car got sideswiped by the semi. Took you guys forever to get them both out. Husband was dead, and she was wrecked. Never saw so much blood before. You could barely see what she looked like.”
It clicks then, and my stomach plummets. I do remember this call. It was my first major incident acting as the on-scene commander after being promoted. It was something we’d never seen before. I remember jumping into the incident command role and pushing the horror of it all to the back of my mind.
I faintly recall her refusing to let go of her husband’s arm even as we tried to remove her from the car. She kept saying, “Get him first. Please, get him first.” But we’d already called his time of death, and she was our priority. We’d eventually gotten her out of the car, broken and bloodied, and into the back of the ambulance. By then, she’d gone silent.
I see it perfectly in my mind now: the medic closing the doors, her lying there, staring at everything and nothing.
“That was her?” I exhale. Sutton takes a sharp breath, eyes fixed on me as she nods her head. I knew Greer was grieving the loss of her husband, but this is more complicated than I ever thought possible.
“Why were you two talking about Greer Ashbury when I came in?” Hunter inquires.
“She’s Luke’s new neighbor,” Sutton answers. “We went to high school together, and I helped her buy the house next door. Even met for coffee.”
“No shit?” He swigs his beer and clears his throat. “Well, this is a heavy conversation for a cookout. She’s not one of your new projects, is she?”
“No, asshole, she’s not.” I grab the tray of patties and hold the back door open. “Burgers will be up soon.”
“Jesus,” Sutton says to Hunter, “are you not capable of reading a room?”
He shrugs. “Sorry, babe, my bad.”
“Don’t babe me.” She snatches the side dishes. “Get the rest of the stuff, will you? Least you can do is help set up the food.” Sutton disappears out the door ahead of me.
“Guess you two are back to frenemy territory?” I ask.
“Nah.” He smiles. “She loves me. So, did you invite Greer over tonight?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if she’ll come over. She’s a little reserved and very hesitant.”
“I’m sure watching your husband die in front of you would fuck you up. Just promise me—”
“Hunter,” I say sternly, signaling the end of the conversation. I love the guy, but he really could use a lesson or two in emotional tact. I’m not looking at Greer like someone to fix or some kind of project. Hopefully soon he’ll see that too.
Voices fill the yard an hour later as everyone pulls up a chair around the fire. Crackles and pops fill the dips in conversation as night darkens around us. Our group varies in size from month to month due to other obligations, but I’m happy to see everyone here tonight.
Vinnie shuffles several decks of cards, and excitement builds as he passes them out one by one. Most of us grew up playing games. Bullshit is one of our favorites. I, of course, am the reigning champ, which pisses Hunter off. That man cannot lie to save his own life.
A glow from Greer’s house catches my eye. I can’t explain why, but she’s burrowed herself into my mind, and each minute I spend with her makes me want more. A shadow passes in front of a window, and I contemplate going over to invite her over to join us. Figuring there’s no time like the present, I set my cards down and push out of my chair.
“Be right back,” I say to no one in particular.
“Hey man, where the fuck you going?” Hunter calls after me. “You afraid I’m gonna whoop your ass tonight?”
“Hunter,” Vinnie says, then laughs, “you know you’re never going to win. You are the worst liar. Remember that time in high school when we TP’d our math teacher’s house? If memory serves, it took you less than five minutes to spill the beans to your mother.”
“My mom is scary though!” Hunter shouts.
Their voices fade as I walk across our yards to Greer’s back door. Tapping on the sliding glass door, I step back, placing my hands in my pockets. Her shadow approaches the door, but she doesn’t open it.
“Greer?” I ask. “It’s Luke.”
The door whispers open as she pulls back the white curtains. “Luke?” She’s barely visible through the opening.
“Hey, uh, I know I mentioned it earlier, but we’re hanging out playing bullshit if you want to join us.”
A soft rustle echoes as she places the curtains behind a small hook, revealing herself completely. An oversized sweater drapes over her shoulders, its fabric inviting to the touch. In cutoff shorts, her bare legs and feet capture my attention. A subtle, alluring scent lingers, and a few damp tendrils of hair escaping her top knot hint at a recent shower. Desire floods through me. She consistently takes my breath away, her presence constantly pulling at me, as if the very sight of her makes everything else fade into the background.
“Bullshit?” Her forehead wrinkles.
I laugh. “Yeah, it’s a card game we play.”
“Never heard of it.” She leans against the wall’s edge. “So, maybe I’ll pass.”
“It’s okay, we’ll teach you. Plus, you can’t miss out on Hunter getting his ass kicked again.”
“Who’s Hunter?”
“My best friend. Sutton’s there too.” I hope knowing Sutton is there will make her feel more comfortable joining us for a bit of fun.
“Greer!” A yell fractures the cocoon around us. “Come over and play with us!” Hunter’s boisterous laugh follows.
Greer chuckles and steps onto her patio. “Hunter?”
“The one and only.”
“Greer,” Sutton shouts. “Ignore Tweedle Dipshit, but for reals, come hang out!”
Greer takes a few steps more, and I can’t help but smile as I spy her purple toenails. As if drawn by an invisible force, my body leans toward her, catching the thick scent of vanilla and sugar in the air.
“Did you just . . . sniff me?” She stifles a giggle.
“Sure did,” I admit. “Are you baking?”
Glancing over her shoulder, unaffected by my nearness, she grins. “Yes. How did you know?”
“You smell delicious. Shit,”—I shake my head—“I mean something smells delicious.” I don’t know what it is about this woman, but now I’m losing my ability to speak.
“I baked some cookies. My mom’s recipe.” She turns fully to me now, stepping close. I could easily wrap my arms around her waist.
“Should I . . .” She gestures toward her kitchen.
“Yes!” I blurt out. “Bring you.”— Fuck me —“I mean, bring them. The gang will love you forever.”
Greer looks toward the fire, back to me, and then glances inside her house. She’s contemplating, and I pray like hell she says yes.
“Okay, let me grab them. Want to come in?” Her hand closes around my wrist. I’m not sure she’s aware she’s done it.
I nod and she releases me. I follow closely behind her. Her house is warm and inviting, a large open room adorned with a simple modern decor that complements the cozy space.
“Wow, this place is gorgeous.”
“Oh, that’s my mom,” she says while plating the cookies on a tray. “She loves to decorate, so she's using this as a perfect opportunity to Better Homes her thigh pushes harder into my shoulder as pieces of hair fall around her face. “If your bullshit gets called, you have to take all the cards in the middle.”
“Got it,” she says.
The longer we play, the more relaxed she becomes. Her shoulders remain low, and she effortlessly adds to the flow of conversation and shit-talking. No one pushes her to talk, yet she surprises me again by divulging information about her parents, sister, job, and new house. As I peer around the fire, everyone seems as captivated by Greer as I am.
Warmth and friendship envelop us as our game continues. It doesn’t take long for Hunter, Greer, and me to be the ones with the fewest cards. I’m so close to victory, and the caveman inside me hopes I get to show off a win to the beauty sitting next to me. Tension builds as each card is played. And with every round, I inch closer to victory, a silent challenge between me and Greer, hidden beneath laughter.
“Two aces,” Hunter says.
I know he’s lying. Greer knows he’s lying too.
“Bullshit.” Her eyes narrow on him.
“You sure about that, Greer?” He smirks.
“Yep. Bullshit.”
“You know, Greer . . .”
“Flip the cards, Hunter,” she says as a devious smile forms on her lips.
“Shit. You’re good, girl.” He flips his cards and reveals two 3s, then he grabs the massive stack in the middle. “You better be ready, Luke. She’s coming for ya.”
Without thinking, I slide my hand around her ankle and squeeze gently. An audible inhale from her causes me to drop it quickly, and I wonder if maybe I overstepped her physical boundaries.
“Oh, I hope so.” I wink up at her. “Four 5s.”
“Bullshit.” She says the word before I can even place my cards in the middle.
My brow crinkles as I look up at her. We’re both down to our last cards, and I know if she bullshits me now, she wins. “You sure?”
“Not about most things these days, but this?” She raises an eyebrow. “Yes. Bullshit.”
I reach for the discarded cards and flip them over. The collective gasp from the group can be heard for miles. A giant smile breaks across my face as I look at her. Our shared laughter and surprise break the tension.
And then, she winks at me. She fucking winks at me. If seeing Greer like this means I have to lose every game for the rest of forever, sign me up.
“No way!” Vinnie throws his hands up in the air.
“That’s unbelievable.” Grace applauds Greer.
“Damn, man,” Adam says. “You got your ass kicked by a newbie!” He leans over to give his wife an affectionate kiss. Envy threads through my heart.
“You’re my hero, Greer.” Hunter knocks his chair down as he rushes over to pick her up, wrapping his arms around her in a giant hug. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, easily accepting his show of affection.
Sutton snorts. “Oh man, Luke, if you could see the look on your face right now. Classic. Someone take a picture for the wall of fame. We’ll name it the day a king was dethroned .” Sutton swats Hunter on the shoulder. “C’mon, Hunter, put Greer down and help me clean up.” Hunter sets Greer on her feet, then he and Sutton head into my house together.
As the laughter and congratulatory remarks surround us, I can’t help but be entranced by the way Greer’s confidence and playfulness have stolen the spotlight. She added a whole new layer to the evening, and I find myself wondering what comes next.
“Greer, it was so nice to meet you.” Grace stands and gives her a quick hug. It’s obvious Greer has caught on to what an affectionate group we are.
“Sorry, man,” Adam says. “We’d stay and help clean up, but I’m working overtime in the morning.” We high-five, and he wraps his arm around me. “We like her.”
My eyes dart to Greer. Her smile is wide and bright as Vinnie says goodbye to her. “Yeah, but—”
Adam holds me out away from him. “No buts man. Just roll with it and let it be what it’s gonna be.” He grabs Grace’s hand, and they walk to their car.
Vinnie is next to leave, followed closely by Hunter and Sutton who live fairly close to one another.
“Be gentle with her,” Sutton says as she hugs me goodbye.
“I will be.”
Now, it’s just Greer and me standing alone next to the fire.
“Tonight was fun,” Greer says, her face stoic. My desire to know what she’s thinking runs deep.
“Yeah. Fun for you. I didn’t know you were a card shark.”
“You’re not the only one who can count cards, big guy.” I’ve lost count of how many times she’s giggled or laughed tonight. With deft fingers, she unclips her hair, and it tumbles in waves down her back. Staring into the flames, she runs her fingers through her hair, scratching at her scalp. The movement causes her sweatshirt to rise, exposing a bit of her toned stomach.
“I—” she starts to say when she notices me staring at her. “Look, Luke, we should . . .”
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t seem to look away. My eyes finally track back to hers.
“It’s only been eight months,” she says, “so this is all new to me.” She hesitates before continuing in a clearer voice. “I think you’re very handsome and extremely nice.”
“You think I’m handsome, do ya?” I smirk, trying to lessen the tension that has sprung up. Her eyes lose focus and I wonder where she went.
“Of course I think you’re handsome. I’m not blind.”
“You’re gor—”
“But,” she interrupts, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for anything more than friends right now.”
Taking a deep breath, I stand and grab my chair. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yep.” I give her a reassuring smile. “Whatever way you’re willing to let me get to know you, makes me a lucky man.”
It’s only a few strides to my back porch, where I place the worn camping chair with the others. I’ll return them to the garage another day. Her soft shuffling footsteps mingle with the evening breeze behind me. She gathers her own chair, the fabric rustling lightly, and adds it to the pile. Neither of us moves as unspoken words swirl between us.
Unable to control it, I slip my hand into hers. “Let me walk you home.”
She looks down at our hands but doesn’t let go. Her eyebrow slants slightly. “I’d like that.”
The grass is cool under our bare feet, moisture clinging to our ankles. Her hand is small in mine, her grip firm. As we near her back porch, I spot Duke through the patio door.
“Hiya, boy,” she says when we near the door. She turns to face me fully, but doesn't drop my hand. “Thanks for walking me home.” Her eyes meet mine, her tongue sneaking out to wet her lower lip.
If this were any other woman, I’d be tempted to lean in to savor those sweet lips of hers, but Greer isn’t any other woman. I’m lost here—in her eyes, her scent, the knowledge of her loss.
“Thanks for kicking my ass tonight, G.” I know I shouldn’t, but I pull her hand to me anyway and give it a gentle kiss. “And about what you said—about not being ready for anything more right now—that’s okay.” I drop her hand and step away. “There’s no timeline.”
The night wraps around us, holding the unspoken promise of more.