Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
L uc shifted his car into gear with more force than necessary. His temper raged and none of the breathing exercises he taught were helping. The soft sound of his father’s snoring grated on his last nerve. He’d been pissed as hell to have his night with Charlie interrupted. The anger had only intensified once he’d discovered the reason for the disruption.
DUI
When the display on his cell read Denver Police Department his mind immediately jumped to the worst possible scenario. As the child of an alcoholic, he’d always feared getting the call. The one where he’d have to go identify his dad’s body. Thankfully, this hadn’t been that call. But it hadn’t been much better.
His father had gotten a fucking DUI. How the hell had he done that? The man didn’t even own a car. Luc made sure of that fact since he couldn’t be trusted to be sober behind the wheel. His father hadn’t driven in years. Where the hell did he get access to a vehicle?
Knowing any answer he wouldn’t like, he shook his father’s shoulder, rousing him from his drunken sleep. “Dad. We’re here.”
“Huh?” His dad blinked bleary, blood-shot eyes open. The old man glanced around, whiskey wafting off his body, permeating every inch of Luc’s car. “Where?”
“Your place.”
Without waiting for any recognition—he doubted his father even knew what day it was—Luc got out of the car, slamming his door closed and coming around to help his dad out. His father stumbled, grabbing onto Luc like a lifeline. A lifeline he was sick of being. When was enough enough? At what point would his father hit rock bottom? Did he have a rock bottom? As much as Luc wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and wash his hand of this whole mess…he couldn’t. This was his dad. The man who gave him life. The man who, once upon a time, loved him and the rest of the family.
Where had that man gone? Was he even in there anymore?
With a solid grip on his father, he led them inside the shoddy looking complex. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to find the apartment door closed and locked. At least he hadn’t left it open again for someone to rob him blind. He sat his father on the ratty, questionably stained couch and stood over him. Determined to get some answers.
“What happened, Dad?”
Lids droopy, his father tried to look him in the eye, but he’d bet the old man saw two of him, so the results weren’t great.
“Wha?”
“Last time I saw you, you were doing good. Going to classes, sober. What the fuck happened?”
“Hey!” He pointed a finger at Luc, more accurately, the clock on the wall three feet to Luc’s left. “Don ussse that tone of voiccccccce with me young man. I’mmm your fathhhher.”
He wobbled on the couch, slurring his words worse than he had in a long time. Fuck! How much had he had to drink?
Pissed that his time with Charlie had been interrupted, that he’d once again allowed hope for his father’s recovery to live inside him, for the fear he’d felt the moment he got the call, for the whole damn mess, Luc pushed his father’s hand down. Leaning over him, he tried his best to be firm and not shout.
“You just wrapped a car around a tree in Wash Park. I’ll talk to you any fucking way I please!” His father flinched at his anger, but Luc held no sympathy. He could barely contain the fury coursing through him. It was too damn hard to control the volume of his voice too. “Where the hell did you get a car anyway?”
“Mmmmy buddy Jim. Livessss upstairs. Letssss me use hissss car somtimesss.”
Shit. Now he’d have to contact Jim and explain a few things. Poor guy might not even be aware his dad had a problem. That was the issue with helping a neighbor. If you didn’t know their whole story your help might hurt in the end. He was sure the police department would be in touch with this Jim guy since the car appeared to be registered to him. Luc would call the station tomorrow and ask them to put Jim in touch.
Angry, disappointed, and utterly exhausted, Luc went to the tiny kitchen. There on the chipped linoleum countertop sat a bottle of whiskey. Nearly empty. Something cracked inside him. His fucking heart maybe. Who knew? No matter how many times he told himself not to let his dad’s slip up affect him, they always did. He always found himself mired in guilt. He hadn’t done enough, been enough, for his father to get better. Stupid, he knew, but that didn’t stop the fact.
Grabbing the bottle, he poured the remaining contents down the sink, making a quick sweep of the tiny apartment for more liquor. When he didn’t find any, he went back to the kitchen and got his father a large glass of water and a bowl. Heading back to the couch, he shoved the water in the old man’s hands, he pushed the bowl into his lap.
“Here. Drink that. All of it. And if you’re going to puke, use that.” He pointed to the bowl.
“Thankssss son.” His father tried to smile, but his face fell, crinkling up into a grimace. “Don’t know whatssss wrong with me. I fucccccking everthhhhing up.”
And there it was. The reason he wouldn’t, couldn’t, give up on his father. He knew his dad wanted to do better, but dammit, he had to try harder. This shit was getting old. He wanted his dad back.
Crouching down to eye level, he placed a gentle hand on the swaying man’s shoulder.
“Dad, I love you. You know that, but you gotta try harder. You have to stop doing this. You can beat this thing, but you need to be stronger. You have to fight.”
His father’s head bobbed, but from the sounds of snoring coming from his open lips the guy was already passed out again. Luc checked his pupils and heart rate, then gave him a few pokes to test his responsiveness. When his father mumbled a goodnight, he knew the old guy wasn’t in any more danger tonight. Locking the door, he headed out.
As he drove away from the city, he wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and forget this night ever happened. Not the whole night. Just the end. So how he ended up at Charlie’s house he had no fucking clue. But he found himself parked in her driveway, staring at the dark green front door.
With all the anger and pain raging inside him this was the last place he should be. He didn’t need to dump this all over her. He should leave. Call her tomorrow when he had his head on straight. But he didn’t. Instead, he got out of his car, walked up to the door and knocked.
* * *
Charlie rushed to open the door. She’d seen Luc’s car pull up. Peeked out from behind the living room curtains as he sat in her driveway for a solid five minutes. She had no idea who had called or why he’d rushed off, but she knew it hadn’t been good. It had taken everything in her not to text and call him the past few hours to ask what was wrong, see if he was okay. She hadn’t wanted to add to his burden, whatever it was. She only wanted to help, but she had no idea how.
Pulling open the front door her heart clenched in her chest. He looked so…sad. His jaw clamped tightly. Lips turned down in the slightest of frowns. Those warm dark eyes were cold and bleak. Pain radiated off him in waves, crashing over her. Hurting. Her arms ached to pull him to her, wrap him up tight and soothe whatever dark cloud had settled over him. But he looked like one wrong move might break him, so she held back.
“Luc. Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “Not even fucking remotely.”
He ran a hand over his ruffled hair, looking lost. It broke her heart.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. I—I shouldn’t have come here. You don’t need this.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, but one thing she did know was this wasn’t about her. It was about him and what he needed. Reaching out, she grasped his hand before he could turn away.
“Forget about me. What do you need?”
His dark eyes clashed with hers. Pain burning away, replaced with heat and desire. Her . He needed her. Joy infused her entire being. Whatever Luc was dealing with, he might not want to share with her, but he wanted her to comfort him. He needed her. She could do that. She was more than willing to be his soft spot to land. He sure as hell had been hers lately.
“Stay,” she said, softly tugging him into the house.
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t. I…I can’t be gentle. Not tonight.”
Ticking up the corner of her mouth she lifted one shoulder. “Who said I wanted gentle? You can be whatever you need to be, Luc.” Swallowing past the lump of emotion in her throat, she gazed directly into his eyes, allowing him to see the truth. “I’m here for you.”
At those words, he kicked the door shut, hauling her into his arms. She met his hungry advance, tugging at his clothes, trying her best to disrobe him without leaving the glory of his lips. True to his word he wasn’t gentle. Whatever happened tonight brought out a rawness in him she’d never seen before. She held him to her, trying her best to soothe him, comfort him, love him.
Oh shit!
Holy crap, she did love him. Somewhere in all this time they’d shared, she’d fallen ass over elbows in love with Luc Woolf. As with all things in her life she had the worst possible timing. The realization of her love was not something she thought Luc would appreciate tonight. So she held it in, even when he took her against the wall, making her scream out his name in absolute rapture, she somehow held it in.
Later in her bedroom, when he kissed every inch of her body from the tips of her ears all the way down to the edge of her toes and paying special attention to all the bits in the middle, she held it in. When he placed her over him, allowing her to gently ride him, soothe away the worry lines with her soft kisses and sweet rocking motions, she held it in. As they lay in the dark, Charlie listening to the soft sounds of Luc’s snores as he fell asleep wrapped around her body, she held it in.
And when she woke in the morning to an empty bed, cold from the man who’d rocked her world apart in more ways than one, she still held it in.