13. Luke
Luke
The diner booth is loud with laughter and the clatter of plates over the poppy soundtrack coming from the ever present jukebox. This is my kind of place and one of the reasons I love living back home so much.
Taron is perched on Kaleb’s lap stealing bites of his massive stack of pancakes while he pretends to be annoyed.
Mason has his arm draped casually around my shoulders, thumb stroking slow circles on my upper arm.
Every so often he leans down and presses a kiss to my temple, and I swear my heart does a little happy flip each time.
It feels so natural… being part of this little group, belonging.
By the time we finish eating and say our goodbyes, I’m glowing. Mason walks me the short distance to Mr. and Mrs. Peplinska’s grocery store, our fingers laced together.
As we reach the employee entrance at the back, he stops and turns me to face him. “You hear anything more from Patrick?”
I shake my head.
“Nothing since my last reply,” I say. “I was pretty firm. Wouldn’t surprise me if he just ghosts me now. Probably realized I’m not interested in his version of closure. But thanks for asking and for being so cool.”
Mason nods, his expression thoughtful but steady.
“Hey, that’s me. Cool. But about Patrick… that’s a shame, but maybe it’s for the best. You don’t owe him anything, little one. You’ve already moved on. It’s up to him what he does with his life. Whatever. We’ve got one another, and no city slicker is going to get in our way.”
“Yup!” I reply, smiling from ear to ear.
Mason cups my face with both big hands and kisses me—slow, deep, and full of promise. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine for a second. “Have a good shift. Text me when you’re done. I’ll pick you up if you want.”
“I will,” I whisper, stealing one more quick kiss before slipping inside.
The familiar scent of the store hits me right away: fresh bread, produce, and that faint cardboard-and-canned-goods smell from the stockroom wraps around me like an old friend.
Mrs. Peplinska is up front arranging a display of local honey jars. She looks up and beams when she sees me.
“There’s my favorite boy,” Mrs. Peplinska says. “You’re glowing today, Luke. That big mountain man treating you right?”
I can’t help the shy smile that spreads across my face. “He really is. Actually… I wanted to talk to you about something.”
We move to the small office in the back while things are quiet. I take a deep breath and tell her everything: the Healing Club possibly going up for sale, Mason and me thinking about buying it together, the chance to build something of our own in Hardrock Park.
Mrs. Peplinska listens quietly, her kind eyes never leaving my face.
When I finish, she reaches over and takes both my hands in hers.
“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Peplinska says. “Nothing in this world would make me prouder than seeing you step up and become a local business owner. You’ve got such a big heart and so much energy.
This town needs more people like you running things.
” She gives my hands a gentle squeeze. “And between you and me… you’re not exactly the world’s greatest stock taker.
If you decide to go for this, we’ll figure out how to survive and we might even get the stock count right from time to time too!
I’m just teasing, but seriously don’t you worry about leaving me short.
I’ve always known you were destined for bigger things. ”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I throw my arms around her in a tight hug, breathing in her familiar lavender scent. “Thank you. That means everything.”
Mrs. Peplinska hugs me back just as fiercely. “You go chase that dream, Luke. And bring that handsome Mason of yours around for dinner sometime. I want to sit down properly with the man who’s got you smiling like this.”
I pull back, giggling through the happy tears. “Deal.”
The rest of my shift flies by in a warm, contented haze. I tackle the chips and cereal aisles with extra bounce in my step, humming along to the soft music playing over the store speakers.
Every time I lift a box or face a shelf neatly, I imagine doing something similar at the Healing Club—maybe creating a cozy Little corner with stuffies and coloring books, or planning community events. The future feels bright and possible.
By the time my shift ends, I’m practically floating.
I clock out, say goodbye to Mrs. Peplinska with another quick hug, and step out onto the main strip. The late afternoon sun is warm, the trees are rustling gently overhead, and everything feels perfect. All I need now is for Mason to fully get on board with the Healing Club idea.
Together, we could really make it ours.
I picture us running it side by side—him keeping everything safe and strong, me making it warm and welcoming. Maybe even adding a small juice bar with protein shakes and Little-friendly snacks. The vision makes me grin like an idiot as I walk down the sidewalk, swinging my little bag.
The way my mind is whirring with possibilities and ideas, I’m actually surprised that I don’t start to levitate and drift off into the big fluffy white clouds above.
This can be a big success, I know it can.
Of course, it’ll require Mason getting on board but I’ve got a feeling he’s really coming round to the idea.
Well, here’s hoping anyway.
I’m so lost in my daydream that I don’t notice the hand on my shoulder until it’s already there. Only one man would touch me like that, but I sense right away that it’s not Mason’s hand on me.
I spin around, heart jumping—and freeze.
Patrick.
He looks exactly like I remember: tall, slick, polished in an expensive charcoal suit that probably cost more than three months of my rent.
His hair is perfectly styled, jaw clean-shaven, and that same smug, charming smile is plastered on his face.
It’s a smile that used to make me feel special…
before it started making me feel small, and not in a good way either.
“Luke,” Patrick says smoothly, like we’re old friends who just bumped into each other. “You look good. Really good. This little town seems to agree with you.”
My stomach twists. I take a small step back, clutching the strap of my bag. “Patrick. What are you doing here? This isn’t what I said in my text.”
Patrick shrugs, glancing around the pretty tree-lined street with mild distaste.
“You said we should meet for coffee. Figured I’d surprise you,” he smirks. “Though I have to ask, does this place even have anywhere decent for coffee? Or is it all diner sludge and tourist traps?”
The casual rudeness toward my town—the town I love, the town I chose to return to—irritates me instantly. But I remember what Taron and Milo said…
Closure.
All I need is one conversation. Then I can shut this door for good.
I force a tight smile. “There’s a nice café just up the block. We can talk there.”
“Lead the way,” Patrick says, falling into step beside me like he belongs here. Like he belongs anywhere near me.
My phone burns a hole in my pocket.
I should text Mason.
I know I should.
But something stubborn in me wants to handle this myself first, to prove that I can face my past without needing my Daddy to rescue me every single time.
Still, as we walk toward the café, Patrick already launching into some story about his latest big deal in the city, a nervous flutter settles in my chest.
This doesn’t feel like closure.
It feels like trouble walking back into my life at the exact wrong moment.
* * *
The diner is busy with the early lunch crowd, but I barely notice the chatter and clinking of silverware.
I slide into the booth opposite Patrick, my stomach already twisting into knots.
The cheerful red vinyl seats and the smell of fresh coffee and pie suddenly feel too bright, too normal for whatever this conversation is about to become.
I fold my hands in my lap and wait, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
Urgh.
Why am I even here?
Let’s get this over with…
Patrick leans back, looking every bit the slick city guy in his expensive suit. He glances around the diner with open disdain, lips curling like he’s smelled something bad.
“Jesus, Luke. This place? Really?” Patrick begins.
“The décor looks like it was last updated in the nineties, and the menu probably hasn’t changed since then either.
There’s no way you can actually be happy here.
It’s so… unironically lame. Remember the rooftop bars we used to go to?
The speakeasies with the mixologists who actually knew what they were doing?
This is a far cry from that. Like, way, way far away. ”
I stay quiet, letting Patrick talk.
Part of me wants to defend my home immediately, but I need to hear him out so I can close this chapter for good. And I know Patrick doesn’t actually care what I think about anything anyway.
My ex keeps going, leaning forward now like he’s sharing some great wisdom…
“Look, I know I crossed some lines back in the city. I was under a lot of pressure, said things I shouldn’t have.
But I’ve changed, Luke. I’ve been in therapy, working on myself.
I want you back. I can give you the life you deserve.
The real life. Not this middle-of-nowhere existence you’ve settled for.
You belong in the city with me. You don’t need to worry about work anymore.
We both know you weren’t really cut out for the high-stakes world of finance.
I make more than enough now. I’ll take care of you.
You can relax, shop, travel… whatever you want.
No more slinging groceries or playing house in this backwater town. ”
Inside I’m seething. How dare Patrick talk like this? And I know that this is what he always felt too. He’s ugly, but now I’m truly seeing it with perspective.
Patrick’s words land like little needles, each one designed to make me feel small again. The old Luke might have wavered, might have let the charm and the promises pull him back in.
But I’m not that boy anymore.
I sit up straighter, heart steady.
When Patrick finally stops talking, flashing that smug, expectant smile like he’s already won, I look him dead in the eye.
“I appreciate you coming all this way to say that,” I say, voice calm and clear.
“I really do hope you find happiness, Patrick. I hope therapy helped and you become a better person. But there is no way in hell it’s going to be with me.
We’re done. We’ve been done for a long time and quite frankly I couldn’t give a damn about you. ”
Suddenly, Patrick’s expression shifts—surprise, then irritation. He reaches across the table fast and grabs my hand roughly, fingers digging in.
“Come on, Luke. Don’t be like this. You’re making a huge mistake.”
I yank my hand back hard, rubbing my wrist. “Don’t touch me. Leave, Patrick. Never contact me again. We are finished.”
Darrly scoffs, leaning back with that familiar condescending look. “I’m not going anywhere until you—”
A large shadow falls over the table.
Daddy.
Mason stands there like a mountain—arms crossed, jaw set, eyes locked on Patrick with pure, protective steel. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. His presence alone makes the air feel heavier.
Patrick’s face goes pale. He looks Mason up and down, clearly intimidated by the sheer size and quiet authority radiating off him. “Who the hell—”
“Time for you to go,” Mason says, low and final. No room for argument.
Patrick slides out of the booth, muttering under his breath. “Whatever. This town is a fucking hellhole anyway. And you…” He glances at me with a sneer. “You were never my first choice.”
Patrick storms out, trembling in a combination of impotent rage and the shock of a rejection he never saw coming.
The second Patrick is gone, Mason slides into the booth beside me, one big arm wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me close.
“You okay, little one?”
I let out a shaky breath and lean into him, breathing in his familiar scent. The tension drains out of me instantly. “I am now. Thank you for coming.”
“I was already on my way to pick you up when I saw you two through the window,” Mason murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Saw the way he grabbed your hand. I almost lost it. But you handled yourself beautifully before I even got here.”
I tilt my head up to look at him, warmth blooming in my chest at the pride in his voice. “I did, didn’t I? It felt good. Standing up for myself like that.”
“You were incredible,” Mason says, squeezing me tighter. “Strong, clear, no hesitation. I’m so damn proud of you, Luke.”
My Daddy’s praise wraps around me like the warmest blanket. I snuggle closer, letting the last bits of adrenaline fade. After a moment, I notice the small, secretive smile playing on his lips.
“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes playfully. “You’ve got that look. What’s going on?”
Mason chuckles, the sound low and warm. “I’ve got a surprise for you. But before you say anything, I’m absolutely not telling. It wouldn’t be a surprise if I did.”
I sit up straighter, curiosity sparking through me. “A surprise? What kind of surprise? Tell me!”
Mason laughs again and shakes his head, refusing to budge. “Nope. You’ll just have to wait and see, my darling boy.”
I poke his chest, grinning despite myself. “You’re mean. Teasing me after I just faced my toxic ex.”
“Mean Daddy,” Mason teases right back, kissing the top of my head. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’ve got plans for you. Surprise plans.”
As we slide out of the booth together, his big hand warm and steady on the small of my back, I feel lighter than I have in days. Patrick is gone—really gone this time.
And whatever surprise Mason has up his sleeve, I know it’s going to be good.
For the first time in my adult life, the future feels truly wide open and full of possibility.
With my Daddy by my side, I’m ready for the next step…