11. Luke
Luke
For the first time since I moved out of the house I shared with Juliet, I had a fleeting moment of wishing I was still there.
Not for the life that I used to have with her.
Not for the bright, open spaces—unlike Wyatt’s house, which didn’t get nearly enough natural sunlight. And certainly not for the company.
No. I only wished—for a couple of seconds—to be back in that house so I could raid Juliet’s makeup and try to cover up the yellowing bruises on my cheek before I walked into my father’s house.
I hadn’t told anyone about my altercation with Monroe. I wasn’t the fighting kind of guy. As a police officer, I kept myself in good shape. My six-foot-two frame and broad shoulders were often enough to intimidate most suspects into acting right, but I could hold my own if they decided to act up.
Being the aggressor in a bar fight though? That might take my family by surprise, and I wasn’t looking forward to the questions I was bound to get.
As if on cue, my father looked up from where he was sitting in his new favorite electric recliner, his eyes widening at the sight of me.
“What in the hell happened to you?”
Wyatt and Wes were on the couch, each holding one of the girls.
Wyatt cradled Veda in his arms while Jane looked snug as a bug curled into Wes.
The giant of a man was absolutely terrified of little Jane when she first came into Wyatt’s life.
Now, he was nearly as wrapped around her finger as my brother.
They both turned to me. There was a touch of appreciation in Wes’s nod to me.
Wyatt’s smirk tugged at his lips, loving the fact that I looked like a fuckup who gets into bar fights.
It was a stupid thing to do, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
The dick deserved to be decked in the face once or twice.
“You should see the other guy, Dad,” Wyatt joked.
“You weren’t even there,” I grumbled.
“I heard what happened.”
I shot my gaze to Wes. It wasn’t like I could have expected him to keep his mouth shut. Wyatt was his best friend; he was bound to say something.
“Lose the fucking attitude, brother. Yeah, Wes told me what happened. Along with at least twelve other people in the last week. Although it would have been nice to hear it from you.”
That was fair. If it were the other way around, I wouldn’t want to hear it through the grapevine.
Then again, as a police officer, if one of my brothers was picked up for a bar fight, I would have heard about it before they were escorted from the cruiser.
Wyatt had his hands full between his fiancée, a toddler, an infant, and his shop; the last thing he needed was to get involved in the drama that my life had turned into.
“Hear about what?” Reid asked from behind me as he walked into the house with Claire. “Luke’s one-two knockout with fu…freaking Monroe?”
Reid had started watching his language as soon as Jane came into our lives, even though Wyatt dropped more f-bombs than any one of us.
“I didn’t knock him out.” I rolled my eyes. This town had a way of exaggerating the truth as stories passed from one person to the next.
Claire cringed at my face… always an ego boost when that happened. “That looks like it hurts.”
“It’s fine,” I told her.
“What am I missing? Did Reid say you got into a fight with Monroe? Matt Monroe? Were you sparring or something?” my dad asked.
I opened my mouth to explain, but Sheila beat me to it as she and Maeve walked out of the kitchen.
“Oh, Luke, look at you. How are you feeling? I have some arnica cream that will help with the bruises. Let me get it for you,” she fussed.
“I’m not usually an advocate for fistfights, but it sounded to me like that boy had it coming. ”
“Sheila!” Wyatt hissed-yelled, trying not to wake the baby on his chest. “When did you get so bloodthirsty?”
“Wait… you knew about this?” my father asked, his eyes pinging around the room. It looked like everyone had already heard about my brawl except for him.
“I told you he was a douche,” Reid quipped. I glared at him, rolling my eyes at his smart-ass comment.
“Matt and Juliet…” I trailed off, scratching at my jaw.
My father’s jaw hit the floor. He huffed, unamused, “Ha. Say no more.” Shaking his head, he added, “I hope he looks a lot worse than you. ”
“Luke held his own,” Wes said from the couch. His deep rumble was the final word on the conversation, thankfully.
With the inquisition out of the way, I turned to Sheila so I could change the subject to literally anything else.
“Dinner smells great. I know these asshats are lazy, but let me know if I can help.” I tilted my head in the direction of my father, Wyatt, and Wes.
It didn’t escape my notice that the men were all sitting in the living room while the women were in the kitchen. This wasn’t some 1950s bullshit.
“No, no. I’ve got everything covered,” she replied. “You just sit and relax. Dinner will be ready soon.”
Veda was waking from where she rested on Wyatt’s chest, her little head wiggling around as she searched for a food source. Wyatt looked down at her in complete awe and captivation before turning to Maeve. “You know I would help if I could, doll, but this is all you.”
Maeve obviously bottle-fed Jane since she hadn’t given birth to her and didn’t have a milk source, but she had decided to breastfeed Veda, so feedings weren’t something that Wyatt participated in.
Although his hungry eyes as he tracked his fiancée as she walked toward him and Veda told me he would be happy to do so.
Wyatt pulled Maeve in for a kiss that started sweet but was turning obscene quickly.
She pulled back, her face flushed, and took Veda from him.
He didn’t take his eyes off her until she was officially out of sight.
Reid took a seat on the other side of the L-shaped couch and pulled Claire down with him to sit on his lap.
She wrapped her arm around him, her fingers combing through his hair absently.
My father got up to follow Sheila into the kitchen, giving her a chaste kiss along the way.
The love in this house was overwhelming, almost stifling, but still, it brought a smile to my face.
Sheila had whipped up a full chicken, three side dishes, and a salad like it was nothing.
In fairness, to her, it probably was nothing special.
She had owned and operated the Downtown Diner for decades.
We sat around the table with Dad at the head of the table and Sheila at his right.
Claire and Reid completed that side of the table.
Wyatt was at the foot of the table with Maeve to his right.
After all the couples had found seats near their partners, Wes and I were left as the awkward two single folks to round out the table.
Luckily, conversation stayed away from my bruises and any further discussion about my failed marriage and backstabbing partner.
With two babies in the house, it was easy to put the attention on Wyatt and Maeve’s family instead of me.
Reid was making good progress on the house he was building for himself and Claire.
Everyone seemed to have good things happening for them right now. Except me.
“Luke, have you talked to Scarlett lately?” Claire asked.
“Every day, why?” Claire was always a pretty sunny person, but her smile right now looked more calculated than happy. She looked across the table at me with a satisfied smirk on her face.
“Did she tell you that she and Eddie broke up?” Her fake sad face wasn’t fooling anyone.
Yes, Scarlett did tell me that she broke things off with Eddie.
It came up in conversation, but it was just two friends talking about our lives.
She and the boring cheese aficionado just didn’t hit it off.
Who knew? Did my heart rate kick up when she said something?
Yes. But I wasn’t about to tell Claire that or the rest of these vultures called my family.
“It may have come up. Why? ”
“Oh, just making conversation.” She shrugged.
“Speaking of, how’s the divorce coming along anyway?” Reid asked.
So much for staying away from my failed marriage as dinner conversation. And speaking of what? We were talking about Scarlett, and he pivoted to my divorce. Those two topics weren’t related.
“Uncontested. Just waiting for the court date. Should be in a few weeks as long as nothing gets pushed back,” I said. Grasping for any other topic of conversation that wasn’t a deep dive into my love life, I turned to Wes. “How’s your investigation coming along? Dig anything up yet?”
Wes barely moved his head, just the slightest turn, but he paired it with a mean side-eye.
“The investigation is slow going. The Calla Bay Police Department doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.”
“Yeah, surprising,” I replied, my brow hitched. My tone was sober as I asked, “Do you still think you have something real?”
“I do,” Wes said.
I trusted Wes. I trusted him a hell of a lot more than I did my own partner.
Wes and I didn’t always get along. He had a habit of inserting himself in police business when, as a civilian, he needed to stay the hell out of it.
But truthfully, he would have made a damn good cop if he wanted to be.
For some reason, he chose to go private instead.
No security, no retirement, hustling for jobs, extracting payment from deadbeats.
Then again, as a cop, he would have to work with other people, occasionally even talking to them, which was clearly not his strong suit.
“What are your thoughts?” I asked him.
“No work talk at the table,” my dad grumbled .
I caught Wes’s eye and gave him a nod, eliciting a nod back in response.
This time, I did manage to stay out of the topic of conversation for the rest of dinner. After dinner, I hung around for a while, playing with Jane. Wyatt’s family packed it up first, wanting to get home to get Jane to bed and settle Veda in for the night. Wes took off when they left too.
“Sheila, thank you as always for dinner. I don’t know how we survived before you,” I told her.
“Hey.” My father bristled with a good-natured chuckle. “I kept you alive, didn’t I?”
I flicked my glance back to Sheila, fake whispering from the side of my mouth. “Barely.”
Sheila grinned. “It’s my pleasure, hon. Have a good night.”
I said bye to everyone else and got in my car.
Where I should have turned left to get to my house, I turned right.
A few minutes later, gravel spit from my tires as I made my way up the long dirt driveway to Wes’s house.
He stepped out onto the front porch before I had even put my car in park.
I didn’t think it was a coincidence or lack of funds that kept Wes’s driveway made of gravel.
It was impossible to sneak up on him without alerting him to your arrival.
He unlocked the garage where he hung out, and I met him at the door.
“You want a drink?” he asked, opening the garage and flicking the lights on.
“No. I’m not staying,” I told him.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his legs apart, and his head bent to look down at me.
That last part was probably just a necessity.
Maybe. He looked ready for a fight, but I’d had enough of those this week.
Honestly, Wes always looked ready for a fight.
He had since the day he came into our house at eight years old.
I leaned back against his workbench, crossing one ankle over the other. “What do you need from the police?” I asked.
“The case file. Evidence log. Notes. Interviews. Reports.” He listed off the series of everything we’d put together during our investigation.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
His brows rose as he stared at me. “You would be putting yourself at risk. I can’t guarantee I’ll find anything, but if there is something in there… there may be consequences.”
“If there is something to find, there will most definitely be consequences for someone.” I scratched at my jaw before asking him, “Do you have a running theory? Anything I should be on the lookout for specifically?”
“Yes and no,” he said. I waited patiently for him to continue.
He was equally as well practiced at using silence as a tool, but it benefited him to talk this time.
He knew that, so I waited until he decided to elaborate.
“Very few people would have the access or availability to cover up evidence. I’m not ruling anything in or out. ”
“Everything I found and analyzed, every person I interviewed, every lead I followed up on… it’s all there.”
“I know,” he said, offering me a sage nod. “Do you have that same faith in Monroe? In anyone else that handled the case?”
“Fuck no. The man showed his character, his loyalty, his integrity when he fucked my wife.” I held my hand up when Wes went to say something.
He let me finish my thought without interrupting.
“I know. There is a big leap from having an affair with your friend and partner’s wife to wrongful imprisonment, falsifying evidence, and letting a murderer walk free.
I know. But a man with no principles is capable of a lot. ”
“That he is. So, are you willing to help me investigate? Be an inside source and report back to me?”
I could hear what Wes was saying. Whatever I found, he wanted first look before I reported it up the chain.
If there was something to find, how far up did it go?
I could break a police corruption case wide open, only to have it squashed immediately if it got to the wrong person first. I was a by-the-book kind of cop, kind of person.
I followed the rules, obeyed the laws, held the chain of command with the respect and authority it deserved.
But this was too big to risk it being covered up without anyone the wiser.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good. Get me what you can, but don’t be stupid about it.”
“I know how to investigate, Wes.”
“We’ll see,” he said, his lips pulling into a smirk.
Asshole.