Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
LUKE
My phone buzzes before we reach the car. I get three alerts in rapid succession—the school mass text, Bennett, and some email from the administration.
“Shit,” Madeline says, reading her own phone’s alert. “They’re locking us down.”
Georgia’s already sliding into the back seat, reading her own phone. I start the engine, checking the time: 5:49. We can make it.
“Grant texted me,” Georgia says suddenly. “He’s back at the dorms. They let him go.”
I roll to a stop at the light and glance back at her. “How?”
“Guess they didn’t have enough to hold him.” She shrugs. “He’s back in your room.” She pauses. “He wants to explain everything to us.”
Madeline twists in her seat but leaves the seat belt on. Good girl. I don’t say that out loud. Not the time. “Explain what?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “He just said he needs to talk to us. About why he went back.” I have this sense there is more she’s not telling. Georgia is always reserved, but she’s been extra quiet this past hour.
The sun’s setting, painting the sky in bruised purples.
We don’t speak the whole ride. Georgia’s staring at her phone like it might bite her. Madeline keeps glancing back, worried, but she doesn’t push. We’re all about to find out.
I park illegally outside the dorms—fuck it—and we head up the stairs. Third floor. My key’s already in my hand. When I push open the door, Grant’s sitting on my bed when we burst in.
He’s fine, like nothing happened. A strange relief fills me that he’s okay. Grant lifts his hand, a chain with a small charm on it hanging between two fingers.
Georgia stops dead in the doorway. Her hand flies to her mouth. “You found it,” she whispers, but it’s loud as she rushes forward. “That’s why you went back?”
Grant stands, sheepish, holding out the bracelet. “Yeah. I, uh... you mentioned you lost it, so I went to go find it. Guess I got lucky.” Grant is always so unfazed and chill. He’s not that at this moment, and that clearly has everything to do with Georgia.
“So you went back at four a.m.?” I ask, my voice hard. “To a fucking murder scene? For a bracelet?” The fuck is wrong with him? He could have run into whoever it was that was lurking around that night.
“Don’t even act like you wouldn’t have done the same thing if it were Madeline’s, Luke.” His expression is one of, Are you fucking kidding me?
Georgia snatches the bracelet from his hand. Her eyes fill with tears. “This was my grandmother’s. She gave it to me before she died.”
“I know,” Grant says, rubbing his neck. “That’s why I went back. I knew what it meant to you.”
“You’re such an idiot,” Georgia says, but she’s smiling through tears. She hits his chest. “You jerk. Why didn’t you tell me you had it?”
“I was going to give it back. That’s how I’ve been...” He stops, that sheepish expression coming back. “That’s how I kept getting you to hang out with me.”
“We searched the library for over an hour!”
“But it was fun, our first date.” He gives her a smirk.
Georgia’s face turns cherry-red. “What? That wasn’t a date.” She rolls her eyes at Grant.
“I added a G charm,” he admits.
Madeline makes a sound beside me—half laugh, half sniff. She’s finding this adorable, while we’re in the middle of murder and mayhem. Tough as hell on the outside, warm sweetness right below the surface.
“What about Paul?” Madeline asks. “Why did you beat his ass?”
“He was running his mouth.” He flicks a glance to Georgia, giving himself away, but I’m not sure Georgia is putting it together.
“Ohhh,” Madeline says.
“What?” Georgia asks confusedly.
I clear my throat. “As touching as this is, we have a problem.”
Grant pulls back from Georgia but keeps her hand. “Curfew. I know. They announced it while I was leaving the station.”
“We are out of time,” Madeline says, checking her phone. “Georgia and I should go.”
“Not happening.”
“No.”
Both Grant and I talk at the same time.
“No way, Buttercup. I’m not leaving your side. Not tonight with everything happening.” I’d crawl out of my skin before sunrise.
“Luke—” Madeline starts.
“No.” I pull out my phone, knowing there is only one way to make this work. “Fuck it. We can stay at my brother’s.”
“Your brother’s?” Georgia’s eyes widen. “The dean’s?”
“His house is on campus. It should count.” I’m making shit up, but I know I can talk my brother into it. I don’t ask him for much, and when I do, he wants to show up for me. I’m already texting Bennett. “He won’t care.”
Bennett texts back: Fine. But you’re all in trouble if anyone finds out.
“Let’s go,” I say, grabbing Madeline’s hand.
We pile into my car. My mind is on one thing: Joey. That little shit is all wrapped up in this. He plays that good guy bullshit. No fucking way he let that shit go with Emily. He was calling her back here. Lured her, not that I’m really thinking about it.
The storm’s already here. We just don’t know where it’ll hit next. Unless I hit it first.
“Are you plotting over there?” Madeline asks. I am, but there other things I need to handle first.
“You need dinner.” She rolls her eyes at me but is smiling.
“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about with everything that’s going down?” I simply stare at her because she already knows the answer. Her well-being comes first. “You’re ridiculous.” She huffs out, feigning annoyance, but I see the edge of her lip curve up.
The house is dark when we pull up. Bennett’s car isn’t in the driveway; only the light in the kitchen window is on, but it’s always on.
He’s likely still at the station or dealing with the board or whatever crisis comes after announcing a teacher’s murder to the whole school and one of the students being taken into custody.
I’m sure he’s getting an earful from parents too. The few that care.
“Your brother’s not here?” Madeline asks as we climb out of the car.
“Guess not.” I punch in the code for the door. “Make yourselves at home,” I tell them as we enter the side door into the kitchen. “There is one spare room upstairs.”
“We can—”
“Not happening, Buttercup. You’re with me in my bed.”
“I’m not making my best friend share a room with...” She glances over to Grant. “A man I thought might be a murderer an hour ago.”
“But he’s not,” Luke pushes back.
“The night is young,” Grant says, opening my fridge. “Might end up killing you by the end of it.” I ignore him.
“They’re dancing around each other. A room together might be good for them,” I tell her.
“That’s not the point,” she huffs back, putting her hands on her hips, making my eyes drop there. I want to grip her while she’s riding me. Yeah, she’s in my bed tonight. That’s not negotiable.
“All right, Mom and Dad.” Grant shuts the fridge.
“I’m like right here,” Georgia whispers.
She’s still got that bracelet clenched in her hand.
I need to buy my girl jewelry. Don’t those girls wear name necklaces?
Except I’ll get mine on it for her to wear.
This may be the best idea I’ve ever had.
The thought of her wearing my name on her at all times soothes something inside of me.
One day, hopefully sooner rather than later, she’ll agree to take my last name.
“Luke—”
“I won’t make her share a room with me,” Grant finally says, dropping the teasing. “I can take a couch or whatever.”
“No, you can’t do that,” Georgia starts to protest.
I pull Madeline toward the pantry, my hand on the small of her back. Grant and Georgia can bicker it out on their own. “You really need to eat something.”
“I’m fine, Luke.”
I turn her around, cupping her face in my hands. “You’re running on adrenaline and fear, and I can hear your stomach growling from here.”
She laughs, but it’s breathless. “When did you become the responsible one?”
“Since I found something for the first time in my life that I give a shit about.”
Her eyes go wide. The pantry light catches the gold in them and makes her look unreal.
Like I dreamed her up. But she is real. I have never met anyone like Madeline in my life.
The world could use more of her in it, but unfortunately for everyone else, there is only one, and she’s mine, and I’m not letting her go.
“Luke,” she whispers, melting for me.
“I know.” I rest my forehead against hers, my thumbs tracing her cheekbones. I’ve lost my mind, but I know there is no use trying to find it. I used to think people who fell head over heels in love were crazy, but now I understand them fully.
She rises up on her toes, her hands fisting in my shirt, and kisses me. Hard. Desperate. Like she’s been holding her breath for hours, and I’m the only air.
I lift her onto the small counter, stepping between her knees, and kiss her like I should have been doing since the moment I met her. I slide my hands up her thighs, her waist, and her ribs, mapping every inch I can reach through fabric, which is suddenly too much of a barrier.
“Luke,” she gasps against my mouth. “Grant and Georgia—”
“Fuck ‘em,” I say, and she laughs. I move my mouth to her neck and nip her there.
“Luke.” She moans my name like a prayer and a curse all rolled into one. Fuck, I don’t want to let her go, but I need to feed her. When I pull back, she lets out a small huff, like I didn’t just give her what she was asking for.
“Come on, I’ll feed you and then you can have your way with me.” I grab some egg noodles off the shelf. When I step back out, Georgia and Grant are gone. I expect Madeline to go track them down, but she only smiles and gives a slight shake of her head.
I make her pasta with butter. It’s quick and filling, and you can’t fuck it up. She sits on the counter watching me, her bare feet swinging, her lips swollen from kissing me.
Grant and Georgia come back down eventually. We fill Grant in on everything he missed, and he tells us about how they grilled him. He told them he didn’t have a clue about the badge but maybe it was dropped and he picked it up with the intention to return it and forgot.
As for the footage, he told them he was at Caleb’s party and didn’t know what else to tell them; in fact, he was done talking and requested a lawyer. Once he’d said that, they had to let him go because there wasn’t enough to hold him, and he wasn’t going to give them any more information.
I’m sure a part of them was worried about how much money Grant’s family could have. I honestly don’t know. He doesn’t talk about them actually, now that I think back, but I’m not all chatty either.
When the food is gone, Madeline talks to Georgia alone for a couple of minutes before I take my girl upstairs to my bedroom. I’ve never truly considered this place home until lately. I think Madeline is a big part of that.
I can tell the day is catching up to her. She’s half dragging her feet at this point, eyes heavy, exhaustion trying to take her under. I pull her into the bathroom instead of the bed.
“Luke?”
“You’re half asleep on your feet, Buttercup.” I turn on the shower, checking the water to make sure it’s a good temperature. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m your girl.” Even her smile is sleepy.
“Then I get to take care of you.” She doesn’t protest when I slowly start to undress her.
Once she’s naked, I strip off my own clothes and guide her under the spray.
She tilts her head back, eyes closed, as the water runs through her hair.
I reach for the soap and wash her—her shoulders, her back, her arms—everywhere.
Being able to touch every part of her is a privilege that I’ll never take for granted.
You’d think that having to worry over another person wouldn’t sound appealing, but it is.
As sappy as fuck as it sounds, it’s honestly an honor.
And that is why I must keep all men away from her, and possibly girls too.
If Emily checks out Madeline’s legs one more time, I’ll frame her for Murphy’s murder.
When we’re done showering, I wrap her in a towel, then grab one of my shirts from the drawer—a worn hockey tee that hangs past her thighs.
Madeline stares up at me with so much trust in her eyes that it makes my chest ache.
No one has ever looked at me the way she does.
She looks small in it, vulnerable, and beautiful.
I sit her on the edge of the bed and towel-dry her hair before I work any tangles out with my fingers. Her eyes start drifting closed under my touch.
“Time for sleep, Buttercup,” I tell her as I pull back the covers to tuck her in, planning to go back over to my side, but she catches my wrist, her eyes opening, dark and fully awake now. A slow smile starts to form on that tempting mouth of hers.
“Luke,” she whispers, and there’s something in her voice that stops my breath.
“Madeline—”
“Cuddle me.” She pulls me down, her hands sliding up my chest. I don’t think this is cuddling, not that I’m going to correct her. I should tell her no, but we all know that’s not happening. I’ll never deny my girl anything she asks for, unless it poses harm to her.
She’s exhausted, but I can’t resist her. I never could. From the very moment I saw her, I was captivated. My head was fucked, but the rest of me knew.
I kiss her slowly and deeply, laying her back against the pillows, making my shirt she has on ride up her thighs. She arches into me, her fingers tangling in my hair, and any thought of sleep evaporates between us.
“I love you,” she breathes against my mouth, and I’m lost. I thrust inside of her. A small gasp leaves her, but she takes all of me.
We move together like we’ve been doing this forever, like we were made for this. Those legs of hers wrap around my waist. That shit turns me on. I’m a big guy, but with Madeline’s long legs, she can get them around me and cling. Exactly how I want her.
Madeline’s nails dig into my shoulders, and I lose myself in her—the taste of her, the sound of my name on her lips, the way she looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters before I rack her body with pleasure, and I get to watch that too, taking me with her until we’re both spent.
I pull her against my chest, her head tucked under my chin. I wrap my arm around her, keeping her close enough that I can hear every breath she takes, the sound of her heart thumping.
“I love you,” I say into her hair because I need her to know. Because I might not get another chance to say it.
It’s important for me that she understands that I’m not just an overbearing asshole. I don’t want to control her. Madeline being Madeline is the core of what I love about her, and I’ll die to keep that safe.
“I love you, and I’m not letting you go. Not ever.” It’s a warning, laced with a promise.
She lifts her head, cheeks still flushed, her eyes soft and a small smile on her face. “I love you too, Luke Locke. Even when you’re impossible.”
I kiss her forehead, her nose, and her lips. “Good. I’m glad we cleared that up. Now get some sleep, Buttercup.” She rolls her eyes but settles back against me, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. Within minutes, her breathing deepens.
Tomorrow we’re going to figure this out. All of it.