Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LUKE
“Andi.”
She stops but doesn’t turn. The words of her song still echo between us—every lyric a wound I know I deserve. I want to call her back to say something that might matter, but nothing comes to mind.
She speaks first, her voice rigid, trembling at the edges. “What do you want, Luke?”
I see her shoulders shake once, as if she’s holding herself together by sheer force of will. I want to reach for her, to apologize, to beg her to stay, but all I manage is, “Are you—” The question falters. “Are you okay?”
A pause. She doesn’t look at me. “I’m fine.” The words are brittle, a lie we both hear.
She walks away, her pace quickening, and I stand rooted to the spot, watching her taillights disappear into the night. The ache deep in my chest is sharp, hollowing me out.
“Are you kidding me?” Brandon snaps. “You asked her if she needed someone to drive her home after some guy just assaulted her in the parking lot. How many times have you been hit in the head?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. He shakes his head and walks away, leaving me alone with the weight of what I’ve done.
Shane told me a little about that douchebag Brad. When I saw him lift Andi up off the floor tonight, I wanted to wipe the floor with him. After Shane told me why he hates Brad so much, I wished I’d done it.
Andi went on a couple of dates with him but wouldn’t sleep with him.
Shane said she knew almost immediately he was trouble.
When she turned Brad down, he tried to drag her off anyway, just like he did tonight.
No doubt to rape her, but something else is off in the guy’s head too.
He thinks that if he can just get her alone long enough, she’ll change her mind.
When I saw Brad pulling her, and she was fighting with everything she had, my body moved before my brain could argue. I went to her first. Shane wouldn’t let Brad walk, and I knew it. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being afraid for even one more second.
I drive to her house, the silence in the cab thick and punishing.
Her bedroom light is on. I sit in my truck, staring up at her window, wishing I could take back every word, every moment I let her down.
I rake my hands over my face, force myself out of the truck, and walk up to ring her doorbell.
I don’t expect her to answer. I’m fully prepared for her to look out the window, see my truck, and tell me to go to hell.
Still, I ring it again.
Nothing.
After a couple more tries, I sink down on the porch with my back to the door. I tip my head against the wood and stare at the doorknob as if it might turn out of mercy.
“Andi, baby,” I say to the door, because I don’t deserve to say it to her face. “I’m so sorry. God, I don’t have the words to describe how sorry I am.”
The words come out clumsy, useless. I press my forehead against the wood. “I screwed this up. I ruined it. I ruined us. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve shut up and let you talk. I should’ve believed you when you asked me to. I should’ve kept my promise to you. But I failed you.”
My throat tightens, but I don’t stop. I don’t get to stop. “I left you there. I just—” I swallow hard. “I didn’t stay. I didn’t fight for you. I walked away like a coward. I chose my fear, and I let it make me cruel. I let it turn you into something you never were, and I hate myself for it.”
The silence on the other side of the door is unbearable.
“I should’ve driven you home tonight. I should’ve been the one standing between you and everything that tried to hurt you. I keep telling myself I wanted to protect you, but the truth is—I protected myself.” My voice breaks completely. “And I lost you because of it.”
I drag in a breath that doesn’t go all the way down. “I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve another chance. I just… I miss you so much I can’t breathe.”
I sit there for I don’t know how long, hoping she heard me. Hoping she’ll open the door and let me in. But the house stays quiet. The knob doesn’t move. No footsteps. No latch.
So I leave.
On the drive back to my apartment, it hits me hard that I’ve lost her for good. This isn’t me being pissed or being stupid again. This is me realizing the rest of my life might be spent without her.
After two nights of no sleep, I stumble into my living room and turn on the TV for the Monday morning news.
I flip through the stations until a familiar face catches my eye.
The local news is showing an older picture of Andi, but it’s still her.
My brain stalls because it can’t make the words fit the image.
“In entertainment news, Andrea Morgan, daughter of the legendary Maxwell Morgan, will officially assume control of her family’s various properties and their mass media conglomerate, with assets estimated to be in the billions, for her twenty-eighth birthday, only three weeks away,” the reporter says.
“An elegant, A-list, invitation-only gala will be held at the Hyatt Regency Atlanta Ballroom to celebrate her birthday and the completion of Max Morgan’s will. If you were lucky enough to be on the invite list, you’re in for a treat. If you weren’t, you can count on us to bring it to you live.”
That’s my Andi on the screen.
This is one thing my dad was right about. Her birthday is a big deal, and she never mentioned it to me. But Brandon’s voice loops through my head again, relentless.
You know her.
I didn’t trust her when trust was the only thing she asked of me. I let her down when she needed me most. I won’t make that mistake again. No matter the circumstances, I will trust her.
My phone rings. Dad.
I answer with a groan, and he doesn’t even bother with hello.
“Did you see the news just now?” he barks.
“Yes,” I say. “I saw it.”
“Now do you see what I was talking about?”
“I see she’s inheriting her family’s business on her twenty-eighth birthday,” I reply. “Isn’t that pretty much the standard for something of that magnitude? Her father wouldn’t hand it over to an eighteen-year-old to run.”
“I guess so,” he mutters, and some of his bravado slips.
“But what I don’t see,” I press, and I know my tone sounds accusatory and disrespectful, “is where she’s done anything to me, Dad. Something else you know that I don’t?”
A pause. Then, smaller: “Son, it’s complicated.”
I sit up, the hair on my arms lifting. “What. Is. Complicated?”
Before he can answer, I hear Mom’s voice on the line. “Luke, maybe you should come over so we can talk.”
I don’t remember the drive to my parents’ house. One minute I’m in my truck, the next I’m shoving through the front door.
“Mom! Dad! Where are you?”
Mom meets me in the hallway. Her eyes are red and swollen, like she’s already been crying for hours. She doesn’t speak. She just nods toward the backyard.
Dad is sitting at the patio table. The one Andi bought them. He’s staring into a coffee cup like it holds absolution.
“What the hell is going on, Dad?” I demand. I don’t sit. I don’t soften it.
He exhales slowly, still not looking at me.
“Andi’s father, Maxwell, and I were business partners once. We had a development agreement. He bought a key parcel of land just before he died. He put up all the money to help me out. My name wasn’t on the deed.”
I say nothing. He continues.
“When he died, the property went into probate. I couldn’t touch it. I’ve been bleeding money for years because of it. We own everything around it, but without that one parcel, the whole development stalled.”
His fingers tighten around the mug. “I realized who Andi was when she told us about her parents. About foster care.”
The silence stretches.
“So I hired a private investigator.”
There it is.
“He found the court records. The mental hospital commitment. Then he went further. He got the photographs.”
My pulse starts pounding in my ears.
“When you walked in that night,” Dad says quietly, “I had just told Andi that if she didn’t give me the property, I would leak those pictures to the press and make sure the board blocked her from taking control of her company.”
For a moment, I honestly can’t breathe.
“You blackmailed her,” I say.
He flinches but nods. “Yes.”
I take a step back as if the ground shifted under me. “You used the worst moment of her life to corner her… over a piece of property.”
“I was desperate—”
“You blackmailed her.” My voice is lower now. Controlled. Dangerous. “And you let me believe she was unstable. You let me believe she tried to murder someone.”
He swallows hard. “I thought if I applied pressure—”
“You used me.”
That’s when he finally looks up.
“You didn’t just threaten her. You used me to do it. You knew I would react. You knew I would turn on her.”
His shoulders sag. “Yes.”
The word detonates in my chest.
“Why?” I demand.
“My business is collapsing!” he snaps, emotion finally breaking through. “We’re going under. That property is the only thing that can save us. It’s worthless to her. She has more money than she’ll ever need. I wasn’t going to actually release the photos. I just needed her to believe I would.”
My laugh is short and bitter. “She would’ve given it to you if you’d just talked to her about it.”
He goes still.
“She said that to you,” I continue, the memory hitting me like a punch. “‘You could’ve just told me you needed it.’ That’s what she meant.”
His face crumples. “Yes.”
Tears slide down his cheeks now, unchecked.
“I love her,” I say, my voice cracking despite my effort to hold it steady. “I love her more than anything. And I betrayed her because of you.”
The truth tastes like blood.
“What else?” I press. “What else do you know about the hospital?”
He hesitates.
“The commitment was real,” he says carefully.
“She attacked her foster father. But the circumstances were… questionable. His name’s redacted from every document, so he must be someone powerful.
Someone with serious political connections.
Anyone the investigator spoke to warned him to stop digging. Said it wasn’t safe.”
I stare at him, beyond simple disbelief at this point.
“You knew that?” I whisper.
“Yes.”
“You knew the incident wasn’t as clean cut as those documents made it seem… and you still showed me those pictures.”
“Yes.”
Silence falls heavy and final between us.
“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. “I love you. I love Andi. I hate myself for what I’ve done.”
But it’s too late for apologies to matter.
“She loved you and Mom and Alicia and Brandon. She looked at all of you as her own family. She called you Dad—that’s how much she loved you.
Do you have any idea how much you meant to her?
Do you have any idea what this has done to her?
” My volume is off the charts as I strike him squarely in the heart with my words.
He needs to feel the pain he’s inflicted.
He needs to understand the damage he’s caused. “After all she’s done for you.”
Silence falls between us.
Not the comfortable kind. Not the kind that fades. The kind that settles like volcanic ash after something has burned down.
I can hear the wind move through the trees. I can hear my own pulse.
And in that silence, everything rewinds.
Andi reaching for me.
Her voice breaking when she said, “You promised.”
The way I stepped back.
The way I let the photos speak louder than her.
I see it now. All of it. Dad didn’t just blackmail her. He engineered the fracture. And I handed him the weapon. I inhale slowly, but the air feels too thin.
“You knew,” I say finally, not looking at him. “You knew it wasn’t clean. You knew there was more to it. And you still let me believe she was dangerous.”
“I was trying to save this family,” he whispers.
I nod once. “But you destroyed it instead.”
That verbal punch hits him harder than anything I’ve said.
Mom makes a small sound behind me, like something inside her cracked.
I turn back to Dad. “You don’t get to say her name again,” I say quietly. It’s not shouted. It’s not emotional. It’s final. “You don’t get to use me as leverage. You don’t get to weaponize her past. And you don’t get to act like this was just business.”
His face drains of color.
“Luke, please—” Mom steps forward.
I shake my head without looking at her. “No.” That word feels bigger than it ever has in my life. “If you ever go near her with this again, you lose me. Completely.”
Dad’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
I let the silence sit one more second—long enough for him to understand this isn’t a threat. It’s a boundary.
“You didn’t just betray her over money,” I add. “You used your own son to do it.”
And then I turn and walk away. Mom calls my name. But I don’t stop.