Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Damages
I continue to watch over him closely, even as my mind races.
If Frank thinks he can get away with this, he’s got another thing coming.
Luke never stirs as I carefully peel myself out of bed and get dressed, but I still lean over and kiss his forehead, running my fingers gently through his hair before I go.
Misty gives me a long blink from where she’s curled in his arms, almost like she understands what I’m about to do.
It’s oddly encouraging. She doesn’t shy away from my hand either as I stroke her head and tell her to keep an eye on our person while I’m gone.
I don’t have a plan as I drive down to the shop, but I know I can wait for Frank in the parking lot.
It’s too early for most people to be here, but there are a few by the time I arrive.
I get some wary looks as I stand by the front door, but no one says anything—they seem to be able to sense that I’m not in the mood to be fucked with, and they want no part of it.
I know they’re curious as hell to see what I’m doing back here after the way I left yesterday.
Thankfully, I don’t need to wait long for Frank to arrive. He sees me waiting by the door, and smirks as he heads my way. He dares to act like he's going to walk right past me, but when I bark his name, he stops short, looking me up and down with a condescending glare.
“What the fuck do you want, Carlson?” He even has the nerve to sound impatient.
It only makes me angrier.
“Did you touch him?” I growl, my words dripping with venom.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Frank bristles.
“Did you fucking touch him?”
He laughs. “Touch who?”
Without stopping to think, I grab Frank by the collar and whirl him around, slamming his back against the cement wall with a heavy thud. Only then does he have the common sense to look frightened, but it’s mixed with outrage.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” he spits.
“Tell me why Luke showed up at my doorstep last night, beaten and bruised, nearly strangled to death. What do you know about that?”
“I didn’t fucking do it,” Frank snaps defensively.
“Bullshit. You’re the last person who saw him.”
“It wasn’t me!”
“You left with him yesterday after he got fired.” I shove him against the wall harder. Frank winces and tries to push against my grip, but he’s not stronger than me. “What were you doing with him then, if not assaulting him?”
“It’s none of your goddamn business,” Frank snarls.
“I know the kind of shit you’re capable of. Luke told me all about your perverted little escapades when you were kids. It’s well within your wheelhouse. What did you do to him?”
“I didn’t fucking touch your boyfriend.” Frank grits his teeth.
I lose control of my temper and slam my fist into the wall right next to his head, too pissed to feel the pain or notice that my knuckles are bleeding afterward. The sound of the brick cracking from the force reverberates in Frank’s ear, and he flinches. It has the desired effect.
“Okay! Sure, I followed him when he left yesterday, but we just talked,” he babbles, his voice shaking with fear. “That was it! He left, and I went home. I never touched him. I swear!”
“What did you talk about?”
Frank clenches his jaw, his cheeks going slightly pink as he glares me down with malice. Despite the fear he feels at my hands, he doubles down on the snotty response, closing up again. “Why don’t you ask him yourself.”
I grip him by his shirt and lift him off the ground so that his feet are dangling in the air, and I slam him against the wall again.
He starts shouting at me, trying to peel my fingers off his jacket, but my grip is an iron vise.
My eyes never leave Frank’s face. I revel in the sheer terror I find there.
There’s a growing crowd around us now—some guys from inside the shop have come out to see what the fuss is about. But they don’t matter right now. There could be a million witnesses to this, and I’d still be justified.
“Tell me the truth,” I demand.
“I already told you!” Frank shouts, his voice panicked. “I didn’t touch him, I swear. I didn’t. Ask him yourself! I never laid a hand on him except that night at the bar. It wasn’t me!”
Something about the sincerity in his declaration gives me pause, and for a split second, I wonder if I’ve got it wrong here. Shockingly, I think I’m starting to believe him. But it doesn’t make sense. It has to be Frank. It was always Frank… But if he didn’t hurt Luke, then who did?
Before I can do anything else, hands are on me, physically dragging me backward—some brave souls trying to break up this pathetic excuse for a fight.
I don’t resist them. Letting go of Frank’s jacket, he drops to the ground with a thud, his legs giving out from under him in his fear.
He looks so pathetic as he curls up and backs away from me, only adding to the notion that he might actually be telling the truth.
It brings up more questions than answers.
Still, I give Frank one last steely glare, unwilling to back down, despite my confusion.
“If I find out you’re lying, I’m coming back for you,” I warn, my words as cold as ice. “Watch your fucking back.” Frank swallows with fear, but doesn’t argue.
With a simple shrug of my shoulders, the others release me, and I turn and walk back toward my truck without another word, impervious to the whispers and stares that follow.
When I get home, I find Luke sitting at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of tea, staring absently across the room. He still looks physically exhausted, but there’s a steely pinch to his expression that sends a chill down my spine. His eyes are red-rimmed like he’s been crying again.
Misty is curled up next to him on the kitchen counter, using a pile of mail and papers as a bed. She gives me an equally rigid look, and suddenly, I feel like I’m on trial. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Luke asks evenly, his eyes flitting down to his mug.
“No… I, uh… I quit yesterday. I walked out right after you left,” I say carefully.
Luke looks up at me then, staring me dead in the eye. “Why? I asked you not to do that.”
“I should have quit a long time ago.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“What do you expect me to say?” I frown, staring back. I can tell I’m missing something. I just don’t know what.
Luke shakes his head, looking away. But then he sees the blood on my hand, the split knuckles where skin tore on brick, and he freezes.
“Ethan, what did you do?” he asks, his voice so low it’s scary.
“It’s nothing.” I shrug, turning to the sink to clean the cuts. “I’m fine.”
“What did you do?” Luke demands again, his voice panicked. Turning my head to look at him over my shoulder, I can see how his face has gone pale.
“I had a chat with Frank,” I say quickly, my brows furrowing with confusion. Why would the thought of me getting into a fight give him such chilling fear?
“Frank?” Luke asks incredulously—baffled.
So, clearly, he wasn’t expecting that answer. I guess Frank was telling the truth.
Luke’s eyes dart back and forth with confusion as he contemplates my words and bleeding knuckles before coming to some kind of conclusion. His face drops into a mask of horror. “Oh, god. Please tell me you didn’t….”
I frown. “I didn’t hurt him if that’s what you’re asking. I only scared him a little.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Luke groans.
“Funny. You know, he asked me the same thing.” I laugh dryly, slamming the faucet off. I grab a towel and hold it against my hand, the pain shooting up my entire arm, only adding to my irritation. “I’m starting to think I’m the only one with a brain around here.”
Luke just gapes at me, almost like he doesn’t know who I am. I level a stare right back, my jaw clenched.
“Who did this to you, Luke?” I finally ask, deadpan. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t brush this off like every other fucking time. I need to know. Tell me the truth.”
“It wasn’t Frank,” he replies sharply.
“Yeah. So I’ve discovered.” I scoff. “It took me punching a wall to get the truth out of him, and then I look like the asshole accusing him of it.”
“Why did you go after him?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Frank had motive. He had opportunity. He followed you out of the shop yesterday, and that’s the last I saw of you until you showed up looking like you got hit by a train. Come to find out, he claims all you did was talk. What could he possibly have to say?”
Luke’s face darkens. “He apologized to me,” he says quietly.
“What?” I can feel the skepticism on my face.
“He’s the one who snitched on me at the shop and got me fired,” Luke says coldly.
“He said he couldn’t handle working with me anymore.
It was too triggering for him. He’s been going to therapy, and he knows that it was selfish and wrong of him to do it, but he couldn’t make progress with me in his face every day.
He was trying to make up for what he did to me all those years ago and even now. He apologized for all of it.”
“Hold on….” I throw a hand up, trying to process this information. Frank. In therapy? Apologizing? I never thought I’d live to see the day. No wonder he was so cagey about telling me the truth.
“Why do you always feel the need to intrude?” Luke asks seriously, and suddenly, we’re right back at the unresolved argument from yesterday. “You jump in without even thinking for one-goddamn-minute, and you make things worse.”
“You won’t talk to me, Luke!” I snap back, surprised at the level of anger in my voice.
“What else did you expect? You’ve kept everything that’s been happening to you so close to your chest that I had no choice.
I’ve been jumping to all kinds of conclusions these last few weeks, thinking Frank was targeting you—hurting you.
And don’t try to bullshit me about walking into doors or falling down stairs.
I’m not a fucking idiot. You’ve brushed it off whenever I’ve tried to talk about it. You kept me at arm’s length.”