Fourteen #2
“Not tonight,” I pacified him. “Close your eyes.”
“I had plans,” he nearly whined.
I kissed his forehead. “I can’t wait to hear them.”
“I’m gross and sweaty and sticky, but I still want to sleep with you,” he confessed, his eyes drifting closed.
It was good to know.
Checking Tatum, who was passed out on the couch with Wink, I made sure both were snuggly under the blankets.
I set the alarm, scanned all the camera feeds, and cranked the heat up.
The rain hadn’t abated, the sound very soothing, and I was certain it helped everyone sleep better.
I was hoping it was a twenty-four-hour bug, and with Luke’s fever breaking, the worst, I was sure, was over.
It was not over.
It took a couple more days, but by Thanksgiving morning, Griff and Dar were both strong enough to go up the stairs and take proper showers.
Luke took a long shower as well, and I stripped the bed, put the buckets back in the garage, and decided that my chair and ottoman would live in Luke’s bedroom from then on.
“ Our bedroom,” he corrected me as I brought him breakfast in bed. He did not enjoy his plain oatmeal, sliced bananas, or applesauce. For lunch he got broth and rice and pretzels.
“I will eat turkey and gravy and the yams with the marshmallows and squash and?—”
“Oh, Daddy.” Tatum, who had carried in a blue Gatorade for him, snickered. “You can’t have any of that. Your tummy won’t like it.”
He stayed in bed and watched football while the rest of us praised Viola’s amazing cooking skills right around four.
“I’m not happy!” Luke made sure we all knew, yelling from our bedroom.
On Friday, Viola decided her son could have turkey and dumplings, and he kept it down. We were all happy for him, because honestly, he was a terrible patient.
“I didn’t hear that much whining from the kids,” I told his mother.
“He’s always been the worst,” she commiserated with me.
It was nice of her.
Saturday morning, Darwin and Tatum joined me as I drove Viola and John to the airport.
At the curb, they both hugged me as well as the kids.
I hadn’t anticipated that. I was sure Viola would, but John was a surprise.
And yes, he’d invited me to their home for Christmas, but the fact that he felt compelled to take me into his arms was special.
“He really likes you,” Darwin said from the back seat, because Tatum had called shotgun. “I didn’t know if he would.”
“I knew,” Tatum chimed in. “Everybody likes Nash.”
“That’s true,” Darwin agreed quickly. “But now can we talk about Chinese, because I truly, from my soul, cannot eat anymore turkey.”
At the light, I turned to him. “Are you kidding?”
He whimpered. “Did you know that turkey’s not my favorite?”
“From your soul?” I asked him. “Dramatic much?”
“Come on, man,” he moaned. “I bet Dad would love a little egg drop soup.”
“And chicken fried rice,” Tatum added. “How can that be bad?”
It couldn’t, so we went and picked some up from their favorite place in the city.
I enjoyed watching them order, making sure Griff, who was not there, got his regular.
When we got home, Luke almost cried, he was so happy, and he was strong enough to sit at the dinner table.
After lunch, we started watching The Mandalorian , because that was Tatum’s alternate pick, and no one wanted to watch anything about serial killers.
That evening, once I’d checked the gas stove—couldn’t be too careful with those burners—made sure the house was locked, set the alarm, and made sure the cameras were all up and running, I got into bed next to Luke.
He was immediately all over me, his hands, his mouth, and I rolled over on top of him, pinning him to the bed.
“You’re thinking something stupid,” I told him.
He refused to look at me, and I saw his throat working and his jaw clenching.
“You’re thinking, If I don’t hurry up and give this man some sex, he’s gonna change his mind, because taking care of sick, barfing people is not what he signed up for .”
He rolled his head on the pillow and stared up into my eyes.
“What you’re missing is, you’re all mine. I’ve never had people who were mine to take care of before.”
Heavy sigh from him.
“I promise,” I said, grinning at him, giving him a quick kiss, “I want you so bad, but getting to sleep next to you and hold you all night…that’s pretty good too.”
He was shivering, and I rolled off him and took him in my arms.
“I’m so lucky,” he murmured when I flipped off the light.
“I’m pretty lucky myself,” I assured him.
I couldn’t remember a better end to a day.
Sunday, Griff was back to cooking, so we had omelets for breakfast with sour cream and avocado, and not only was it good, but his presentation was beautiful. I was also impressed that he cooked the bacon in the oven. It was a new thing he was trying.
Next on the list was doing the shopping for the week, and at the grocery store, everyone was talking about the discovery of a body. When Griff, Tatum, and I returned home, Luke and Darwin were watching the news.
“What’s going on that everyone is losing their minds over?”
“Well, we knew a lot of what was happening because we had all the inside information,” Luke said, then gave me a kiss. “But sadly, this morning, they recovered Mullane’s body in the woods behind Wilson’s fishing cabin in Snoqualmie.”
“That’s terrible.” I sighed, standing there with bags of groceries in my hands and listening to the newsperson reporting from the steps of city hall. “His poor family.”
“It’s better for them to know, isn’t it?” Darwin asked me.
“Yes, but it’s all very final now.”
“Yeah,” he said softly.
The good news was, no one knew anything about Griff, which was how he wanted it, and so did Luke and me.
Later that day, Weston Kinney called and spoke to Luke.
Now that there would be no new chief of police in Eena, the money that Griff had initially left with the city, for a new police chief and other personnel, would be paid to him.
It was to be added to the trust he would receive when he started college.
“He didn’t want to talk to me?” I asked Luke.
“No. Never again,” he replied flatly.
It could never be said that Luke Duchesne was not a possessive man.
At dinner, Darwin asked, “How can Wilson still be at large with everyone looking for him? I mean, how is that possible?”
“Some people stay hidden for years, decades, even,” I told him as I put steamed broccoli on my plate. “It depends on their resources.”
“But with everyone searching for them?”
“Absolutely. You should google how long some criminals have remained at large.”
Silence followed my suggestion, and it dawned on me what the real question was as Tatum asked in a wobbly voice, “What if Wilson comes back to hurt Griff?”
“No, love,” I assured her and everyone else. “He’s on the run, he’s not coming back.”
They all looked better after my assurance. But once they were all in front of the TV in the living room, before I could get up and join them, Luke grabbed hold of my hand.
“Honey?” I turned to him.
“Wilson is on the run, as you said, but he has nothing left to lose, and he’s already killed a man and God knows what else.”
“True.”
“So what’s to stop him from circling back to take his frustrations out on Griff?
I mean, between you getting Griff out of police custody, which triggered Newcastle PD’s investigation into Wilson, and then Griff being the one to find James Mullane’s key—is it completely out of the realm of possibility that Wilson might want revenge? ”
“Because in his altered perception of the facts, he might be blaming Griff for all the bad things that have happened to him?”
“I know it’s not logical, but?—”
“You’re asking if it’s a possibility, because Wilson isn’t being logical, necessarily.”
“Yes. That’s what I’m asking.”
“The truth is, yes, there’s a slim possibility that Wilson abandons all self-preservation instincts, reason, good judgment, and returns for Griff.”
He nodded quickly.
“But honestly, the fact of the matter is, if Wilson is going to blame anyone for his problems, it wouldn’t be Griff.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not. It would be me.”
“You?”
“Yessir. Think about it,” I said, getting up and walking to the kitchen sink to dump the watered-down ice tea in my glass.
“If I hadn’t shown up and gotten Griff out, then he would have been there in lockup long enough for Wilson to think , shit, I didn’t check the Duchesne kid’s pockets for the damn key .
Also, he wouldn’t have Newcastle PD crawling up his ass. ”
“So you’re saying you’re the one with the bull’s-eye on his back.”
“If anyone does, then yeah,” I said with a smile. “It’s not your son.”
He shook his head.
“C’mon, I’m ready to play video games, and any second now?—”
“Are you two coming or not?” Darwin yelled for us.
I waggled my eyebrows at him and headed for the living room. They had never seen me play Call of Duty , and I was ready to school them.
I thought that subject was closed, but later, in our bathroom, as I was standing by the sink in a towel, drying my hair, Luke came in and leaned against the doorframe, staring at me. He’d gone first and was now changed into pajama bottoms.
“You don’t have to watch me,” I teased him. “I’m coming to bed.”
He cleared his throat, and I noted then that he seemed a bit nervous.
“What’s wrong?”
“I dunno, maybe the possibility of Wilson coming after you.”
I squinted at him.
“Think about it.”
But it was hard to think about anything when he was standing there in front of me with his muscular chest, broad shoulders, all his long, hard chiseled lines, including his sculpted abdomen, all under sleek burnished-gold skin.
“Hello?”
My eyes flicked to his.
“What’s with you?”
“You’re a beautiful man, Luke Duchesne, and I like looking at you.”
Instant blush on his cheeks that I loved.
“I’m having a hard time focusing on what you’re saying.”