Chapter Thirty Luke
Thirty
Luke
Coral leaped at Luke like a furry torpedo, all spinning circles and wagging tail.
Always the same. Two minutes or two hours.
Always greeted him like he’d been gone for a month instead of a few hours.
Any other night, Luke would have crouched down, given her a good scratch behind the ears.
Tonight, he just patted her head once and kept moving.
“Not now, girl.”
His keys hit the counter with a clatter. Beer from the fridge. Cap twisted off. First swallow did nothing to wash the sour taste from his mouth.
Damn party. Damn Victoria and her smug smile. Damn social media and everyone’s obsession with taking pictures of things that ought to be left alone.
More than anything, damn him.
He was in one of his moods; the kind he couldn’t shrug off. Best Soph didn’t have to witness it.
Luke stood at the window, staring out at his lake. The moonlight created a path that stretched across the water, silver and still. Perfect night for a midnight cruise. Perfect night to be anywhere but trapped in his own head.
Tourists coming in specifically to photograph Solace Lake, asking where they can find “that cute bookshop from the internet.”
Victoria’s words stuck like a fishbone in his throat.
Sophie hadn’t done anything wrong. So she’d posted some pictures. So what? People had been taking photos of the lake since before his grandfather was born. Wasn’t like she’d committed a crime.
Except it felt familiar. Too familiar. Photos turning into posts turning into followers turning into visitors turning into development proposals and renovation plans and “untapped potential” and “underutilized waterfront” and every other buzzword Claire had used to describe his hometown like it was a business opportunity instead of a community.
“Hell.” Beer sloshed over the counter as he set the bottle down hard. In her corner bed, Coral whined, head on paws, watching him like she expected him to start throwing things.
He was being an ass. Sophie wasn’t Claire. Sophie got her hands dirty. Worked the wood herself. Respected the history. Rejected that stained-glass window because it didn’t fit what she wanted: traditional bookshelves, honoring the boathouse’s character. She wasn’t trying to change anything.
Except she had those financial backers she’d been so damn vague about. Those “friends” who’d helped fund some of her renovation. In Luke’s experience, money didn’t come without strings.
So what was Sophie promising them?
And why tell him it was all her mother’s inheritance and savings paying for the place? Why lie?
That was the part that circled back like a shark. The lie. Smooth and practiced, looking him dead in the eye. Maybe it shouldn’t dig under his skin so much. They’d known each other just a couple of months. No promises. No labels. No definitions.
But the lie burrowed deep all the same.
Because he’d heard it before. That before came back at him, fast, furious.
It’s just concepts, Luke. Visual references.
Claire, across his kitchen table. Laptop open to some fancy presentation.
Architectural drawings of Solace Lake. Only it wasn’t his lake anymore.
Boathouses replaced with modern glass boxes.
Docks turned into trendy walkways with string lights.
The bait shop reimagined as a coffee bar with reclaimed-wood counters and fifteen-dollar lattes.
“You said this was just for your portfolio. Social media content.” His voice tight as a mooring line in a storm. “This looks like a whole goddamn proposal.”
“It is,” Claire insisted, tucking her black hair behind her ear. “But the company’s been getting interest from investors. Serious interest, from people with deep pockets. Imagine what it could do for this community. This little economy! This project could—”
“It’s not a project, Claire. It’s people’s homes. Their businesses. Their lives.”
“It’ll create opportunities, Luke. This lake has so much potential, but it’s trapped in the past. Your past.” Reaching for his hand. “We could be part of something amazing.”
“So who are these investors your boss reckons he’s sweet-talked, then?” he asked, pulling back. “Where’d they come from?”
“Does it matter? They’ve got vision. And money. They see what I see.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“A chance to bring this place into the current century.” That look in her blue eyes. The one she got when she was about to do something impulsive. “Make it a destination. Real restaurants, boutiques. Culture, Luke.”
“We have culture.”
“Bingo night at the fire station isn’t culture. I’m talking about art galleries, cocktail bars.”
“So you want to turn Solace Springs into every other tourist trap in America.” Edge in his voice sharp enough to cut. “Strip away everything that makes it special and replace it with the same generic crap they have everywhere else.”
Claire’s face hardened. “You’re so afraid of change you can’t see the opportunities. This town is dying. My plan could save it.”
“Your plan would drown it.”
Laptop snapping shut like a steel trap. “I thought you’d support me. I thought you wanted what I wanted.” Then she’d walked out.
Luke let out a frustrated growl. History repeating itself. Different woman, same script. City girl with big plans for his lake. Plans backed by mystery money. Plans she hadn’t been straight about. Was the bookshop the first page? Would there be a chain of them next?
Maybe he was just part of the whole package. Another prop in Sophie’s social media campaign. Harbor aesthetic. Next she’d have him posing on the stern in a captain’s hat, playing authentic local color for her followers and financial backers.
And then she’d leave, like they always left.
That led him onto darker thoughts. Thoughts that involved his mother.
The thing about his mother leaving was that he’d never seen it coming.
Thirteen years old, and he’d thought she was permanent as the lake itself.
She’d been born here, raised here, married his dad right out of high school.
This was her home. Their home. The worst part was how easy it seemed for her.
No tears, no looking back. Like thirteen years of his life, of their life together, was something she could just shrug off and walk away from.
It had taught Luke the hardest lesson of all: if your own mother could decide you weren’t worth staying for, why wouldn’t anyone else feel the same?
Why wouldn’t Claire?
Why wouldn’t Sophie?
Luke drained the last of his beer and set the bottle in the sink with deliberate care. He needed to cool off. Clear his head.
But the sound of someone shouting jerked him out of the brooding.
Luke’s head snapped up, eyes scanning the darkness outside. Nothing moved on the dock. Nothing but—
There. A figure bolting by in the darkness. Then another shout. Sophie’s shout.
Protective instinct roared to life, drowning out everything else.
“Sophie!” He was out the door and across the dock before the echo of his own voice faded, Coral barking behind him.
Three long strides, hand already reaching for the knob, not bothering to knock.
Door swinging wide, heart hammering against his ribs.
“Soph?”
Kitchen light on, broken glass everywhere. And Sophie, standing by the sink, arms wrapped around herself, face pale in the harsh light.
Luke crossed the room in two strides, hands running over her arms, her face, checking for injuries.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” The questions tumbled out, rough with fear.
“I’m okay. I just…I came home and found it like this. The window was already broken. I think I interrupted them because they ran out the back.”
A whirl of fury. “Someone was in here?”
Sophie nodded, big brown eyes glassy with tears.
Luke pulled her against his chest, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. She was shaking, fine tremors running through her body. Still in that pretty dress from the party. Still smelling faintly of flowers and Mabel’s punch. So small against him. So goddamn breakable.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, lips against her hair. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
He held her for a long moment, until the worst of her trembling subsided.
Then he pulled back just enough to frame her face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks.
Instinct had him pressing his lips to her forehead, her temple, the corner of her eye.
Marking her with reassurance. She was safe. She was here. She was his.
“I’m calling the sheriff,” he said, fishing his phone from his pocket with his free hand, the other still wrapped around Sophie. Steffan Bowden, Solace Springs’ sheriff and third-generation lake resident. No better man in a crisis.
“It’s late,” Sophie protested. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Breaking and entering isn’t a bother, it’s a crime.”
After he made the call, Luke led Sophie to the sofa, settling her down before going back to the mess in the kitchen. Glass everywhere, scattered across the counter and floor. Something else, too. An ornate belt buckle, half-hidden among the shards.
Luke picked it up carefully, examining it in the light.
Silver-toned metal with some kind of etched flower design fashioned into a compass rose.
Definitely didn’t seem like the kind of cheap knock-off some teenage vandal looking for booze money might own.
Or maybe they’d just stolen it from someone else?
The door opened, letting in a blast of night air and Steffan’s solid presence. Six-foot-four of calm authority in a sheriff’s uniform, gun holstered at his hip, Viking blond hair and a beard to match.
“Luke.” Steffan nodded, taking in the scene with professional efficiency. Then he turned to Sophie. “Miss Bennett, heard you had some unwelcome company.”
“Yeah and they left something behind,” Luke said, speaking for her.
He handed over the belt buckle and Steffan turned it over in his palm before slipping it into an evidence bag from his pocket.
“Been getting reports of more break-ins around the lake last few days. Nothing taken, just…disturbances. This is the first real evidence. Best Miss Bennett doesn’t stay here tonight. Window needs boarding up.”
“She’ll stay with me,” Luke said.
Steffan’s blond eyebrows rose a fraction, a small smile playing on his lips. “Sure thing.”
He moved past Luke to talk to Sophie, notebook already in hand.
Luke watched them for a moment, Sophie answering Steffan’s gentle questions, still wrapped in the blanket Luke had draped around her shoulders.
All his earlier doubts about her seemed not just petty but downright cruel now there could be someone out there watching.
Waiting. Breaking in. And for what? What did they want?
One thing was damn certain. They’d have to go through him to get to Sophie again.