Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Luke leaned against the worn wooden counter in the island’s police station, his body outwardly relaxed while tension coiled inside him like a predator waiting to strike. Sunlight filtered through the weathered blinds, casting golden bars across the pine floorboards of what had once been a fisherman’s cottage before the county government claimed it for more official purposes. The scent of coffee and old paperwork hung in the air, mingling with the ever-present salt breeze that found its way through every crack on Seeker’s Island.
He’d been waiting fifteen minutes, watching the lone desk sergeant file paperwork with the unhurried pace that island life cultivated in even the most efficient souls. Every minute that passed stoked the fire that had been building since Jessie’s revelation on the beach. The knowledge that Reece—his oldest friend, his brother in all but blood—might have played a role in the years of misunderstanding between him and Jessie had settled in his gut like molten lead.
The front door swung open with a familiar creak, bringing with it a gust of warm air and the man himself. Reece Wells filled the doorframe, his sheriff’s uniform lending additional authority to his naturally commanding presence. Afternoon sunlight glinted off his badge, the symbol of authority that still occasionally surprised Luke when he remembered the hell-raising boy who’d once been his partner in mischief. A cup of coffee steamed in his hand, and his dark features relaxed into a smile when he spotted Luke.
“Do I need to file a report about you stalking the law?” Reece made his way toward his office, gesturing for Luke to follow.
Luke said nothing, merely pushed away from the counter and followed Reece into the small space that served as the sheriff’s headquarters. Awards and certifications hung in simple frames on the wall—evidence of Reece’s ten years in the Army’s Delta Force before returning to take up the sheriff’s badge. A photograph of them as teenagers, grinning wildly on the deck of a fishing boat, sat on a corner shelf—a reminder of simpler days.
Reece settled into his chair, the hint of a grimace revealing the old shoulder injury that still bothered him in damp weather. He took a sip of his coffee, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Luke’s rigid posture.
“Something on your mind, brother? You’ve got that look.”
“What look is that?” Luke asked, his voice deceptively even.
“The one that says I should be checking my life insurance policy.” Reece leaned back, his expression shifting from friendly to wary. “What’s going on?”
“Fifteen years ago.” Luke planted his hands on Reece’s desk, leaning forward. “The night Jessie James left the island. She says she gave you a note for me.”
The change in Reece was instant and profound. His face went blank, a fortress slamming shut, the same expression he’d worn during poker games since they were thirteen. But Luke caught the flicker in his eyes—recognition, followed by something that might have been guilt.
“That was a long time ago,” Reece said carefully.
“Not long enough to forget, apparently.”
“We were kids.”
“And that makes it okay?” Luke’s voice rose despite his efforts to contain it. “She trusted you with that note, and you never delivered it. Do you have any idea what that cost? What it cost her? What it cost me?”
“Of course I know what it cost,” Reece snapped. “I had front-row seats to your self-destruction for months afterwards.”
Reece set his coffee down with deliberate precision, his movements controlled as if handling explosives. “You need to back up and take a breath, Mallory.”
“I need answers.”
“No, what you need is perspective.” Reece’s calm was infuriating. “You’re talking about something that happened when we were eighteen years old, like it happened yesterday.”
“It might as well have,” Luke said. “Fifteen years of thinking she just left without a word. Fifteen years believing she didn’t care enough to say goodbye. And all that time, you knew different.”
Reece stood then, slow and measured, his height matching Luke’s as they faced each other across the desk. “You really want to do this? Right now?”
“I want the truth.”
“Fine.” Reece’s voice hardened. “Let’s talk truth. Yes, she gave me a note. Yes, I said I’d deliver it. I was seventeen, half drunk and stupidly showing off for some tourist girl I’d taken to the cove. Jessie stumbled across us there—God knows what she was doing out that late. She looked scared, Luke. Really scared. Had a backpack with her, and she was in a hurry. Shoved this folded paper at me, said to get it to you first thing in the morning.”
“And you just forgot?” Luke’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the desk. “I was looking for her everywhere, and you had the one thing that might have explained where she’d gone?”
Something flashed in Reece’s dark eyes—regret, perhaps, or his own well-buried pain.
“No. I put it in my pocket. Planned to bring it to you after I took the girl home.” He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, a gesture Luke recognized from childhood—Reece preparing to say something he didn’t want to admit. “But I never got the chance.”
“Why not?”
“Because Jesse James showed up at the cove not fifteen minutes later, looking like the wrath of God. He was half drunk, wild eyed, demanding to know where his daughter was.” Reece’s gaze locked with Luke’s. “He spotted the corner of the note sticking out of my pocket. Asked what it was. When I tried to lie, he grabbed it.”
The blood drained from Luke’s face, leaving him lightheaded. “He took it? Old Jesse took Jessie’s note?”
“Tried to stop him.” For the first time, a hint of shame crept into Reece’s voice. “But I was no match for him back then, not with a pint of tequila making my reflexes slow. He knocked me down, took the note, read it right there. His face—” Reece shook his head. “I’d never seen anyone look like that. Like he wanted to kill something. And then he told me if I ever mentioned that note to you or anyone else, he’d do worse than knock me down.”
Luke stepped back, his legs suddenly unsteady. He lowered himself into the visitor’s chair, trying to process what he was hearing. The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place, forming a picture far more sinister than he’d imagined.
“You should have told me anyway.”
“Yeah? And what would you have done?” Reece’s dark eyes flashed. “Gone charging over there like some avenging knight? Jesse James would have used your head for target practice, and you know it.
“Maybe I should have.” Reece resumed his seat as well. “But at eighteen, having Jesse James threaten me seemed like a pretty good reason to keep my mouth shut. By the time I worked up the nerve to tell you, you were…” He trailed off.
“I was what?”
“A mess, Luke. You were drinking yourself stupid every night, picking fights with mainland boys twice your size. I tried talking to you once, and you took a swing at me. Remember that?”
Luke didn’t. Those months after Jessie left existed in his memory as a blur of anger and alcohol, pain he’d tried to drown and only succeeded in amplifying.
“Then I joined the Coast Guard. Didn’t even tell you I was leaving.”
“No, you didn’t.” For the first time, Reece’s calm slipped, revealing the hurt Luke had inflicted with his own abrupt departure. “One day you were just gone. No note, no goodbye. Sound familiar?”
The irony wasn’t lost on Luke. He’d done to Reece exactly what he’d thought Jessie had done to him.
“That was wrong of me,” he admitted. “I was in a bad place.”
“You were in hell,” Reece corrected, “and determined to burn anyone who got too close. Not that I blame you. I know what she meant to you.”
“I know. That’s why I never held it against you.”
Reece picked up his coffee again, but didn’t drink. “By the time you got back, I was shipping out for basic training. Ten years in Delta Force didn’t leave much time for revisiting the past. And when I finally made it back to the island, you’d gotten your act together. The bar was thriving. You seemed…if not happy, at least at peace. What good would digging up old Jesse’s threats have done?”
Luke leaned back in his chair, the initial surge of anger giving way to a bone-deep weariness. “All those years. All that time wasted because of that old man.”
“He was a piece of work,” Reece agreed, studying Luke’s face. “But that’s not the whole story, is it? Something’s changed. Jessie wouldn’t have mentioned that note after fifteen years unless—” Understanding dawned in his eyes. “You two picking things up where you left off?”
“We’re not picking anything up. We’re trying to figure out if we’re even the same people anymore.”
“Sure,” Reece said, his mouth twitching. “That’s why you’ve been mooning around like a lovesick teenager since she walked back into your bar.”
“I have not been mooning.”
“Please. The entire waitstaff is taking bets on how long it’ll take before you two end up back together.”
“Is that right? And what’s your money on?” Luke couldn’t help asking.
“That’s confidential police business.” Reece’s expression sobered. “Look, I’m sorry about the note. I should have found a way to tell you, especially after Jesse died. But I honestly thought it didn’t matter anymore. You’d both moved on.”
“That’s just it.” Luke met his friend’s gaze. “I never did. Not really.”
A long moment of silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant sound of waves and the creak of the old building settling in the afternoon heat. So much history bound them together—from boyhood pranks to adult responsibilities, from their separate military services to their return to the island that had shaped them.
“You should have told me,” Luke said finally, but the accusation had lost its fire.
“And you should have talked to me before you left,” Reece countered. “We both made mistakes. The question is, what now?”
Luke considered this. What now, indeed? The revelation about Reece’s role—or lack thereof—in Jessie’s disappearance didn’t change the central fact: She had wanted to say goodbye. She had tried to explain. He’d spent fifteen years nursing anger at a betrayal that never happened.
“Now,” Luke said, “I think we both need to stop letting the past dictate the future.”
Reece nodded slowly. “Fair enough. Though I have to say—” A hint of his old humor surfaced. “I didn’t think Jessie James would ever set foot on this island again. Not after the way she cleared out.”
“I didn’t either. And now she’s half owner of my bar.”
“Life has a twisted sense of humor.” Reece leaned forward, his expression turning serious again. “When I heard Jesse left her half the bar, I wondered if he was trying to make amends, in his own way.”
“Or trying to cause trouble from beyond the grave.”
“Maybe both.” Reece studied him. “You going to be okay with this? Working with her?”
Luke thought about Jessie as he’d seen her last night on the beach, moonlight silvering her hair, her face more open than he’d seen it since her return. The walls between them had started to crumble, though plenty remained standing.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that we both deserve the chance to figure out who we are now, instead of who we were then.”
“Very mature. Who are you and what have you done with Luke Mallory?”
“You’re not out of the woods yet,” Luke said, arching a brow.
Reece nodded, accepting this. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came to me directly. Wouldn’t want to arrest you for disturbing the peace if you’d decided to take a swing instead.”
“Would you have let me land one? For old times’ sake?”
“Not a chance.” Reece grinned, the tension between them finally breaking. “Though I’d have given you a private cell with a view if it came to that.”
Luke stood, feeling lighter than he had since Jessie’s revelation. Not everything was resolved—perhaps it never would be—but understanding Reece’s part in the tangle of their past helped clarify the picture.
“I should get back to the bar. Dinner rush starts in an hour and Miguel’s already shorthanded with Tanya out sick.”
Reece nodded. “I might stop by later. Heard Maggie Winters is joining Jessie for dinner tonight.”
Luke raised an eyebrow at the casual mention of the island’s doctor. “So now I know why you’ve been handing out parking tickets at the clinic.”
“Just enforcing the law,” Reece said, but a hint of color touched his cheekbones. “Someone has to maintain standards around here.”
“Right.” Luke headed for the door, then paused with his hand on the knob. “We good?”
Reece met his gaze directly. “We’re good. Just don’t make it another fifteen years before you talk to me about something important.”
“I won’t,” Luke promised, and meant it. Too many years had been lost to silence and misunderstandings. He wouldn’t waste any more.
* * *
The late afternoon sun slanted through the open screens of Seeker’s Paradise, transforming ordinary air into shimmering gold, warming the polished wood surfaces to honey-amber. Salt breeze drifted in from the ocean, carrying the eternal rhythm of waves crashing against shore, a timeless lullaby that seemed to seep into the very bones of the building. The band was setting up on the small stage, tuning instruments with gentle twangs that promised music to come.
Jessie polished glasses behind the bar, her thoughts drifting between her morning explorations and her upcoming dinner with Maggie. The conversation with Dolores had unearthed memories she’d spent years burying, leaving her feeling oddly exposed, as if her skin had been peeled back to reveal the raw nerves beneath.
She’d spent the afternoon helping Miguel with inventory, grateful for the methodical task that required concentration without emotional investment. The easy rhythm of counting bottles and checking stock had a meditative quality, allowing her to process the morning’s revelations at her own pace.
The door from the kitchen swung open, and Luke strode through, his expression tightly controlled in a way that immediately captured her attention. Something had happened. His eyes sought her out, lingering for a moment before he nodded a greeting and moved to speak with Miguel about the evening’s specials.
Jessie continued her task, aware of every movement Luke made as he moved through the space—checking place settings, adjusting the small stage where the evening’s live music would perform, conferring with the waitstaff about the night’s reservations. They worked in parallel, orbiting each other without quite connecting, though she felt his awareness of her as keenly as her own of him.
It wasn’t until the first customers began arriving that he approached the bar, his posture more relaxed than when he’d first entered.
“How was your island tour?” he asked, his voice casual though his eyes weren’t.
“Enlightening.” She arranged a row of stemmed glasses on the shelf behind her. “I ran into Dolores Ramirez at the beach. And had coffee with the island’s doctor.”
“Maggie Winters.” Luke nodded. “Good people. Saved Harlan Pickford from bleeding out after that fishing hook incident last year.”
“So I heard. I’m still trying to erase the mental image of exactly where that hook ended up.”
“Yeah, some things can’t be unseen.” His mouth twitched. “Maggie had to give him a tetanus shot in his other cheek just to balance things out.”
“That’s not true.”
“No, but the look on your face was worth it.” Luke’s expression softened into something that might have been a genuine smile.
“She’s joining me for dinner tonight,” Jessie said. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. I’ll have Miguel set aside the best paella for her. She’s been threatening to try it for months.” He paused, weighing his next words. “I spoke with Reece today.”
Jessie’s hands stilled on the glass she was polishing. “About the note?”
“Yes.”
She waited, but he offered nothing more, just watched her with those blue eyes that had always seen too much.
“And?” she finally prompted. “No, wait, let me guess. He used it to start a bonfire while dancing naked under the full moon with three Brazilian supermodels.”
Luke’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s…specific.”
“I’ve had fifteen years to think about what happened to that note.”
“And that’s the scenario you came up with?”
“It was either that or aliens.”
“I think we have a lot to talk about, but not now.” He gestured toward the steadily filling tables. “Later. When we have time to do it properly.”
She nodded, understanding. Whatever he’d learned from Reece deserved more than a hurried conversation between drink orders. “Later, then.”
His hand covered hers briefly, a warm weight that sent a current of awareness up her arm. “It’s going to be a good night, Jess. Live music, island food, new friends. Try to enjoy it.”
“I always enjoy watching other people work while I kick back with a drink,” she said, but her smile took any sting from the words.
Before she could say more, he moved away to greet a party of regulars who’d just arrived, leaving her with the lingering warmth of his touch and the promise of “later” hanging between them.
The evening progressed with the comfortable chaos of a busy restaurant—Mateo’s paella earning its legendary status, the live music providing a mellow backdrop to the constant flow of conversation and laughter. Jessie moved between helping Miguel at the bar and checking on tables, each task becoming more natural as her confidence grew.
At precisely eight o’clock, Maggie swept into Seeker’s Paradise like a summer storm—beautiful, powerful, impossible to ignore. The ocean breeze caught her loose blond waves, lifting them momentarily before letting them settle around her shoulders like spun gold. Her sundress—the deepest shade of cobalt that perfectly matched her eyes—fluttered against her curves, making her appear more goddess than doctor.
The transformation from the clinical professional of the morning to this vibrant woman was startling and complete. Gone was the white coat of authority, replaced by an easy grace that turned heads throughout the restaurant.
Jessie felt a genuine smile spread across her face as she moved to greet her new friend. There was something about Maggie that radiated both strength and warmth—a combination Jessie had always admired but rarely encountered.
“You found us,” Jessie said, embracing Maggie briefly before guiding her through the maze of tables toward a secluded corner that offered the perfect vantage point—ocean waves visible through the eastern screens, the small stage with its twinkling lights to the north, and just enough distance from neighboring tables to allow for actual conversation.
“Found you? Please. I just followed the sound of actual fun,” Maggie said, glancing around appreciatively. “Three years on an island the size of a postage stamp, and I’ve been here exactly once.”
“Let me guess—sick people selfishly demanding your attention?”
“The nerve of them.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “Nothing says ‘cancel your dinner plans’ like Mr. Peterson’s gallbladder deciding to revolt at eight p.m. on a Friday.”
“The glamorous life of island medicine.”
“Oh, it’s all sailing and cocktails until somebody hooks their own thumb.” Maggie settled into her chair with a contented sigh. “This view alone is worth emerging from my cave of bandages and antiseptic. Why did nobody tell me Luke was hiding paradise back here?”
“Possibly because you were too busy saving their lives to listen?”
“Details.” Maggie waved a dismissive hand, but her smile was warm. “Tonight, I am officially off duty unless someone starts actively dying—and even then, I’m weighing my options.”
Jessie handed her a glass of white wine, which Maggie accepted with a grateful nod. She took a sip, her eyes wandering over the twinkling lights strung above them.
“This place is even more charming at night,” Maggie said. “All those fairy lights make it magical.”
“Luke’s idea,” Jessie said, nodding toward the strands of twinkling lights strung along the rafters. “He has a good eye for what works.”
“Among other talents.” Maggie’s gaze followed Luke as he moved among the tables, stopping to chat with guests, his easy confidence evident in every gesture. “The island’s lucky to have him.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” Jessie signaled to one of the waitresses to bring Maggie a menu. “He’s built something special here.”
“And now you’re part of it.” Maggie studied her over the rim of her wine glass. “How does that feel?”
Jessie considered the question, looking around at the vibrant space filled with laughter and light. “Like coming home,” she admitted. “Even with all the ghosts.”
“Islands are good for ghost-wrangling,” Maggie said with a knowing smile. “Nowhere to run, so you have to face them eventually.”
“Is that why you’re here? Ghost-wrangling?”
“My ghosts are more of the career burnout, bad relationship variety,” Maggie said. “Nothing as dramatic as childhood sweethearts and mysterious disappearances.”
“Who told you?—”
“Hon, everyone told me. I’m pretty sure the pelicans were gossiping about it yesterday at the marina.”
Before Jessie could respond, a ripple of tension passed through the restaurant, subtle but unmistakable. She turned to see Reece entering, his uniform exchanged for dark jeans and a simple button-down that did nothing to diminish his authoritative presence. His gaze swept the room, landing first on Luke—a brief exchange of nods passing between them—before settling on their table.
Beside her, Maggie stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Oh look,” she murmured. “The sheriff’s here.”
Jessie bit back a smile at the doctor’s dry tone. “He looks off duty to me.”
“Sheriff Wells is never off duty,” Maggie replied, though she straightened her posture as he approached, one hand unconsciously smoothing her hair. “The man probably wears his badge in the shower.”
“Ladies.” Reece’s deep voice carried notes of both authority and warmth. “Mind if I join you? Luke mentioned you were trying Mateo’s paella tonight. Wouldn’t want you to face that challenge alone.”
“Is it dangerous?” Jessie asked, gesturing for him to take the third chair at their table.
“Only if Dr. Winters has to remove it from somewhere unfortunate later,” Reece said with a ghost of a smile. “Though I hear she’s excellent with delicate extractions.”
“Only when my patients don’t make me want to add to their injuries,” Maggie replied sweetly.
“Doc.” Reece nodded as he settled into the chair, his movements economical and controlled.
“Sheriff.” Her response was cool, but Jessie caught the flicker of awareness in her eyes—a recognition that had nothing to do with professional courtesy and everything to do with the man himself. “Are we being raided or is this a social call?”
“Can’t it be both?” Reece signaled to Miguel for a drink.
“Multitasking. Impressive for a man.”
“I contain multitudes.”
“Mostly ego, from what I’ve seen.”
Luke joined them briefly between his rounds of the restaurant, pulling up a chair for a few minutes of easy conversation before being called away to handle a minor crisis in the kitchen. Each time he returned, Jessie felt the subtle shift in the atmosphere—the four of them creating a particular dynamic that felt both new and somehow inevitable, as if the island itself had orchestrated their convergence.
“So,” Reece said during one such lull, his gaze fixing on Jessie with unexpected intensity. “How long are you planning to stay on the island this time?”
The question landed with the weight of fifteen years of history. Maggie glanced between them, sensing the undercurrents but not fully understanding their significance.
“I haven’t decided,” Jessie replied carefully. “I have responsibilities back in Savannah that need to be addressed. But I’m not in a hurry to leave.”
“Translation: ‘I’m keeping my options open in case this place drives me crazy again,’” Maggie offered.
“More like, ‘I’m waiting to see if certain people make it worth staying,’” Reece countered, his dark eyes knowing.
“Could we maybe not translate me while I’m sitting right here?” Jessie asked.
Something in Reece’s expression shifted, a shadow of old memories crossing his features. “That’s good to hear. The island could use more people who understand what makes it special.”
The simple statement held layers of meaning that washed over Jessie like the tide—acknowledgment of her connection to Seeker’s Island, recognition of her right to return, and perhaps something like apology for whatever role he’d played in her long absence.
Before she could formulate a response, Luke rejoined them, his hand coming to rest lightly on the back of Jessie’s chair. The gesture was casual but unmistakably possessive, a subtle claim that didn’t go unnoticed by either Reece or Maggie.
“The band’s taking requests,” Luke said, his voice low near Jessie’s ear. “Any favorites?”
The warmth of his breath against her skin sent a shiver of awareness down her spine. “Surprise me,” she replied, meeting his gaze with a challenge of her own.
“Oh sure, give the man carte blanche to torture us all with his musical taste,” Maggie groaned. “Next thing you know we’ll be listening to yacht rock all night.”
“I’ll have you know my musical taste is impeccable,” Luke protested.
“He made the band learn ‘Margaritaville’ last summer,” Reece stage-whispered to Jessie. “They played it seventeen times in one night. There was nearly a riot.”
“It was not seventeen times,” Luke objected. “It was five. Maybe six.”
“It felt like seventeen,” Reece insisted.
Luke’s slow smile held promises that had nothing to do with music and everything to do with the unresolved tension humming between them. “I’ll see what I can do.”
As he moved toward the small stage, Jessie became aware of Reece and Maggie watching them with identical expressions of speculative interest.
“Not just business partners, I take it?” Maggie asked, her voice pitched for Jessie’s ears alone.
“We’re figuring it out as we go,” Jessie said. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s not that complicated,” Maggie observed. “The man looks at you like you’re the last cold beer on a hot day. Just be careful, Jessie. Islands have long memories.”
“So do I,” Jessie replied softly. “That’s part of the problem.”
As if to underscore her point, the band began to play the opening notes of “At Last” by Etta James, the soulful strings and iconic melody washing over the restaurant. It was the same song that had been playing the first time Luke had kissed her, sixteen and trembling with the newness of discovery. The timeless ballad transported her instantly back to that summer night, standing beneath the stars, his hands gentle on her face.
Jessie looked up to find Luke watching her from across the room, his expression a blend of memory and question. Without breaking their gaze, he crooked his finger in a subtle invitation and began making his way toward the small area where a few couples had started dancing.
Something tugged at Jessie’s heart as she rose from her chair, drawn by forces stronger than reason or caution. They met halfway on the makeshift dance floor, neither speaking as the music wrapped around them like a tangible thing.
Some ghosts, it seemed, weren’t meant to be banished but rather welcomed home like old friends, their presence a reminder of all that had been lost and might yet be found again.
The night stretched before them, filled with music and possibilities, the past and present merging like the convergence of tides at Seeker’s Spring—hot and cold, bitter and sweet, the alchemy of opposites creating something entirely new from the elements of what had come before.