27. Luke
27
LUKE
I tip my glass up, the remaining brown liquid sliding down my throat. I wince at the burn. I’ve never understood people who just sip whiskey neat. I’ll take a cold beer over this any day. But I decided twenty minutes into this thing that I needed something stronger than champagne, so now I’m on my third whiskey. This night is turning out to be nothing like what I imagined in my head when Emory first asked me to go with her. She wasn’t ready to tell Nate. Fine. I was disappointed, but I’m a big boy. I can handle it. But she’s been ignoring me all night, and now she’s completely disappeared. I swear to God she’s gonna regret this little stunt when I’m edging her to the point of madness later.
People start to file into their seats as I get up from mine. Dinner must be starting soon, and I’m gonna need another drink to survive two more hours here. I look down at my phone to see if Emory has texted, not paying attention to where I’m going when I run smack into something hard. I look up and none other than that prick who had his hands all over Emory at Nate’s birthday is standing in front of me.
“Excuse m—” he starts to say but then realizes who I am. “You,” he says with a smirk.
“Me.” I shoot back.
“Are you here with her?” he asks pointedly, and now I’m really fucking pissed. This guy keeps popping up in my life, and he has the balls to ask if I’m here with my own girlfriend?
“Emory? Of course I’m here with her. She’s mine.”
“No, not Emory. Alexandra,” he clarifies.
“Alexandra?” I rack my brain for a minute trying to figure out who he’s talking about. “Oh, you mean Allie?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, obviously I mean Allie.”
I look behind me, and then to the side of Ashton like I’m being punked. “No, I’m not here with Allie.”
Although maybe I should have said I was. That’s what Emory wanted Nate to believe. But no, I’m not lying about us to the guy I’ve had to pry off of her twice now.
“Good. I would appreciate it if you kept your hands off her then , ” he says, echoing my words.
I snort out a laugh. I can’t help it. He’s…into Allie? God help him.
As I’m about to wish him well with that, someone bumps into me. I turn around to see a frazzled-looking woman with a long blonde ponytail kneeling down to pick up a tray of drinks she just spilled. I bend down to help her and notice tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she sniffles. “Everything is going wrong. First, I lost the seating chart and then the candles…Emory still hasn’t come back. I don’t know what’s taking her so long. I sent her brother to look for her but?—”
“Wait, what?”
“The seating chart—” she starts, but I cut her off.
“No, what did you say about Emory?”
“Oh, I sent her to go get candles from the gazebo like twenty minutes ago, and she still hasn’t come back.”
I quickly set everything from the floor on her tray and take off up the stairs back to the house. It isn’t until I’m outside that I realize Ashton is following me.
“What the fuck, dude?”
“I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not interested in her, but Em is my friend. I want to make sure she’s okay.”
I grumble but let him tag along anyway. I still haven’t decided if I’m going to kick his ass yet, but apparently, he’s into Allie and he does seem to genuinely care about Emory. My heart is racing as we start jogging towards the gazebo. Emory is not a flake when it comes to helping people. Something is wrong. I can feel it.
As we get closer, I hear voices. They seem panicked…and desperate.
Shit. Please be okay, Em. Please be okay.
We make it to the gazebo and go around to the front entrance, but I stop short at the scene in front of me. Emory and Allie stand frozen, faces etched with horror. Meanwhile, Nate has some up against the wall in the corner, his hands tightening around the man’s throat like a vise.
“Nate,” I say with a calmness I don’t feel.
He flicks his gaze toward me, releasing his hold for a brief moment. The man in his grasp sputters and coughs, gasping for air.
“Let him go, man.”
“Stay out of this, Luke. It’s not your business.”
“It is,” I say. “You are my business. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret for the rest of your life.”
Nate falters, loosening his grip further. The man wheezes, attempting to get more air into his lungs. His feet are moving back and forth, his shoes scuffing the floor, trying to find his footing.
“You don’t know what he did to her.”
Did to her? Emory. Fuck. I’m pretty sure if I knew, I would be helping Nate instead of trying to save this guy.
“No, I don’t,” I say, taking a step closer. “But I know she needs you here. Not behind bars.”
Despite the cool evening air, a thin layer of sweat coats my neck. The whisky still warms my blood from the inside, and adrenaline courses through my veins. I do my best to ignore the sounds of Emory whimpering off to my side. I know the second I lock eyes with hers, my resolve will crack, and I’ll finish the job for Nate. But we’re not killers. That’s not who we are.
I take one more step in Nate’s direction and look over to Ashton, who is standing in front of the girls protectively. I get his attention and mouth “get them out” to him. He nods and turns to them, but then I block them out. I need to focus. C’mon Luke. Think. How the fuck do I talk him down?
“Hey Wells,” I say. “It’s just you and me, man.”
He looks back at me with a questioning expression, maintaining his grip on the man in front of him.
“Us against the world, remember?” We used to say that when we were young. Us against the world. We thought we were badasses, but we were just stupid kids with daddy issues. It didn’t matter, though. We felt like we could conquer the world anyway. We were always stronger together. If he got into a fight at school, I was right behind him throwing punches. We shared everything. Answers to tests, booze, girls…
And we were unstoppable on the field. We worked together in perfect harmony. He threw and I caught. Simple as that. But it’s so much more. He’s my brother. It feels weird to say that now. I shake the thought away.
“You know I always have your back,” I go on. “So, if you’re going to jail, I’m going with you.” I’m right in front of the two of them now. I reach up and gently place my hand on the back of Nate’s—the one wrapped around this guy’s throat—so we’re effectively both choking him. “Now I’m an accomplice.”
Nate flicks his eyes to my hand holding his. Then he looks back up at me, his grey eyes pleading. He’s still angry, but now there’s a faint line of uncertainty forming. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Please, just let him go. We’ll figure this out. When I think he’s going to call my bluff, Nate slowly starts to release the man. I instinctively move my hand down with his. Once free, the man gasps and falls to his knees, taking in strained lungfuls of air. My own lungs fill with the breath I had been holding, and relief washes through my body. Thank God. That was my Hail Mary. I didn’t have another plan if that one didn’t work.
I hear a relieved sob behind me and realize Emory and Allie are still here. Ashton looks apologetic. I figured Emory wouldn’t leave her brother like that. And Allie wouldn’t leave Emory. It’s not Ashton’s fault. I’m sure he tried. Meanwhile, Nate is pacing back and forth, looking like he’s still about to go on a murderous rampage.
I turn toward the guy on the floor, who is now attempting to stand. “Get the fuck out of here,” I yell. Despite the five people in this small, enclosed area who presumably want him dead, he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry.
Nate whips his head around. “I swear to fuck if you ever come near my sister again, I will make sure we’re alone next time. There will be no one to save you.”
The guy straightens out his crumpled shirt and suit jacket, pressing his hands over the wrinkles like that will somehow make any of this better for him. And then he smiles. He fucking smiles. He just narrowly escaped certain death for God’s sake.
“You know, Nate. You’re awfully concerned about me,” he whispers, the rasp in his voice doing nothing to hide his devious tone. “You’re missing what has been right under your nose this whole time.”
Fuck.
Thankfully, Nate doesn’t take the bait. “Get. The. Fuck. Out,” he roars, punctuating each word.
“I’m going, I’m going,” the guy says, inching towards the entrance to the gazebo. As he walks past me, he claps me on the back and leans in, speaking softly but still loud enough for Nate to hear. “Thanks for saving my life, man. I owe you one.” His breath reeks of alcohol and cigarettes. I think he’s going to pull away, but he keeps his mouth steady near my ear, leaning in closer but speaking at the same volume as before. “Does her pussy still taste as good as I remember?” Something deep inside me ignites at his words. My hands clench automatically, and it takes every square inch of the self-control in my body not to react. Then I remember. He’s fucking bluffing. He’s never even tasted her. That thought calms me ever so slightly but doesn’t make me want to tear his limbs off any less.
Before I can do something really fucking stupid, he stumbles out of the gazebo, leaving the five of us standing there with our jaws on the floor.