Chapter Thirty-Four Luke
Thirty-Four
Luke
Three weeks since Sophie Bennett had skewered him outside Blossoms & Brew, and Luke was doing just fine. Better than fine. Hell, he was practically rejuvenated.
So why did his chest feel like someone had hollowed it out with a dull spoon?
Luke guided his tour boat into its slip quickly, earning him a startled glance from the middle-aged couple who’d hired him for a private cruise.
He’d spent the entire two hours answering questions about local wildlife while his mind repeatedly wandered to the shore where a certain bookshop was taking shape without him.
“Thanks for a lovely afternoon,” the wife said, her smile surprisingly genuine. “Solace Lake is even more beautiful than the pictures.”
Luke helped them onto the dock, forcing himself to focus. “Glad you enjoyed it. Best time of year to see it.”
“Best we got in now, too,” the husband said, peering at the dark clouds forming on the horizon. “Looks like a storm’s coming.”
The man was right. Luke had sensed it during the trip, how the wind had picked up, whipping around him with sudden fury. Now thunderheads were building on the horizon, dark and ominous. The spring storm they’d been predicting for days was finally gathering strength.
The old-timers around Solace Springs had a saying: “When the lake speaks, best listen.” His grandpa had been a believer, despite his usual practical nature. “The water knows,” he’d say, tapping his temple with a finger. “Been here longer than any of us. Got its own way of setting things right.”
Luke had always dismissed it as the kind of superstition that small towns bred like mosquitoes in summer.
But right now, with his blood still running hot and his conscience colder than January ice, the brewing storm felt like some kind of sign.
Maybe it was telling him he’d had no place getting all mixed up with a girl like Sophie Bennett, no matter how soft her skin or how bright her smile or how perfectly those lips traced his skin…
The wind gusted again, stronger this time, carrying the sharp tang of impending rain. A warning. Stop thinking about her, Luke.
After Luke helped the couple disembark, he watched them walk off, arm in arm. Made him think of Sophie. Everything did.
He’d tried to settle into a rhythm of avoidance the past few days that would make professional dodgeball players envious.
He’d rearranged his tour schedule to leave before Sophie typically emerged for her morning coffee on the dock.
He’d taken the long route to the marina, adding fifteen minutes to his walk rather than pass her boathouse.
He’d even started shopping at the general store in Elmsworth Falls, despite the Solace Springs shop owner asking if he was “mad at her blueberry muffins.”
It hadn’t helped. Everywhere he went, something reminded him of Sophie.
The stationery section at Henderson’s, where she’d spent twenty minutes debating between cream and eggshell cardstock for her bookshop’s loyalty cards.
(“There’s a difference, Luke. A big one.
”) The corner booth at the café, where she’d once spilled coffee in her lap and hadn’t even cursed, just laughed that full-bodied laugh that made his chest cinch like a drawn cord.
Even the damn tree stump on the path where she’d sat to retie her boot laces, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration.
He kept watch on her boathouse each night, too. Pure neighborhood watch stuff after the break-in, he told himself. Nothing to do with wanting to watch that silhouette and imagine himself in there, with her.
He shook his head and headed for the marina office.
The first fat drops of rain splattered against his face as he yanked open the door.
Abbey was behind the counter, tapping away at the ancient computer.
Mabel was there too, both of them deep in conversation.
They both looked up as the door banged shut behind him.
“Cutting it close with the weather,” Mabel said, nodding toward the darkening sky as Abbey handed him a coffee.
“Been through worse.” Luke tossed his keys on the hook by the door, shrugging out of his jacket. Water beaded on the worn leather, dripping onto the faded linoleum. “What are you doing here, Mabel?”
“Just to chat,” she said, making herself comfortable in the seat across from him as Abbey smiled to herself. “Heard you and Sophie still aren’t talking. Why?”
He shrugged. “Sophie’s busy with her opening on the weekend.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Luke turned away, focusing on the lake through his window. “Nothing to discuss.”
“Luke Rhodes, you look at me when I’m talking to you.”
The tone in her voice—pure maternal authority—had him turning despite himself.
Abbey stood up. “Just gotta make a call,” she said, leaving the room.
“So,” Mabel said, leaning forward and fixing Luke with her beady eyes. “I’m tired of watching you avoiding each other these last few weeks. I’ve heard the basics. Now you can tell me the details. What happened between you and Sophie?”
For a long moment, Luke considered brushing her off. But something about Mabel’s patient expression, the way she’d been there for him after his pa passed, made the words come.
“People leave, Mabel. They lie, they keep secrets, they decide you’re not worth the truth. I’m done pretending otherwise.”
Mabel shook her head. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve heard since Caleb tried to convince me lavender belonged in chili.”
Luke didn’t say anything.
“Well,” Mabel said, “if you carry on thinking like that you’ll turn into a bitter, lonely old man.”
“Better lonely than gutted like a fish.”
“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” Mabel quoted.
Luke let out a harsh laugh. “You ever had your heart ripped out and handed back to you in pieces? Ever had your mother walk out without a word? Ever watch someone you thought was the love of your life decide you weren’t worth staying for?”
Mabel’s expression softened. “No, honey. I haven’t.”
“Then you don’t know what you’re talking about.
” Luke moved to the window, hands braced against the frame.
“It’s like…like having your chest cracked open while you’re still breathing.
Like someone reached in and tore out everything that made you human, then left you to figure out how to keep living with the hole.
And the worst part? The absolute worst part is that somewhere, deep down, you start believing you deserved it. ”
“Sophie isn’t Claire,” Mabel said gently. “She isn’t your mother. She won’t leave you.”
Luke looked Mabel dead in the eye. “But you can’t say that for certain, can you?”
She didn’t answer and that was all the answer he needed. Luke looked at his watch. “Next booking’ll be here soon, you better head back before you get drenched.”
“I insist you cancel that booking,” Mabel instructed. “You have no business going out on the lake the way it is.”
Luke glanced out the window. Sure, clouds were gathering on the horizon faster than he thought.
But from the looks of it, it was going to bypass this part of the lake.
Plus the thought of sitting in his empty boathouse with Coral and a six-pack, nothing but his thoughts for company—hell, he’d rather take his chances with a bit of lightning.
“Nah,” he heard himself say. “Storm’s still a ways off. I’ll keep it short.”
“Abbey!” Mabel called through to the other room.
Abbey came out. “Yep?”
“Cancel the next booking.”
Abbey’s eyes flitted over to Luke then back to Mabel.
“Mabel,” Luke said with a sigh, “I’ve been working this lake for years. Abbey, too. We don’t need anyone telling us how to do our jobs.”
Abbey went to open her mouth.
“Mabel was about to leave,” Luke said, steering Mabel to the door. “Don’t want her getting drenched.”
“Don’t want you dying!” Mabel shot back over her shoulder. She glared at Luke and he glared right back. So she shook her head and walked out, grumbling about a “suicide mission.”
When she’d gone, Luke slumped on the beat-up chair across from Abbey, taking a sip of his coffee. “That woman.”
“She’s definitely a one-off,” Abbey said with a smile. “She’s just worried, that’s all. I agree with her, it’s a real shame about you and Sophie. Sophie’s lovely.”
Luke’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, I thought that, too. Turns out she’s like all the rest.”
“By all the rest, you mean Claire?”
“Yeah, Claire…and my mom.” He bunched his hands into fists as he looked out at the gathering storm.
Abbey frowned, considering this. “People aren’t always who you think they are, Luke,” she said eventually.
“Yeah, sure as hell right there.”
She leaned across the table, looking him dead in the eye. “No, I mean they’re not always the villains we sometimes make them out to be. Like…” She paused, seeming to wrestle with something.
“Like what?” Luke asked.
“Like with your mom.”
Luke shook his head sharply. “Abbey, don’t you even try to defend her. You were there when it all went down. She left me and Pa for some city type, hasn’t looked back since.”
“Ever thought there might be more to it?” Abbey’s voice was careful, measured as she said that. “Ever wonder why your ma, who I know was devoted to you, would just…leave like that?”
Luke examined her face, something cold settling in his stomach. “What are you trying to say, Abbey?”
“She was pregnant.”
Luke went completely still. “What?”
“My mom told me. Said she knew the woman who helped your mom with the adoption.” Abbey’s words came faster now, like a dam breaking.
“So the part about your ma having a one-night stand with that city guy was true. She got pregnant and the baby—your brother or sister,” she added, those green eyes of hers all feeling, “was given up for adoption. Your mom did that for you, tried to start over with your dad, but she couldn’t live with herself.
Couldn’t look at you or your dad without seeing her betrayal. ”