Chapter 21
LUKE
Inever went home. I sat here in this office all night until I was so tired I fell asleep sitting up in Dad's old chair, and now I sit watching the sunlight glisten off the waves as I try to make sense of Hannah last night.
When she told me she's pregnant, it honestly didn’t come as a shock. I think I knew on some level. She's been hiding from me and being weird. And toast for supper? Come on, who does that?
It makes sense, too—unprotected sex and then suddenly, she's sick and dizzy and avoiding me.
And I don't blame her. I'm the plague on this town that doesn’t quit.
It's like every one of the people in this town who loved Nick or his family blames me for his death.
I stick to my own space where folks understand I was just a kid and things happen.
And when I venture out anywhere, I feel the hostility.
I understand why Hannah doesn't want to admit she's slept with me.
But not telling me about it for how long now? How long has she known and she just said nothing? I don’t want to be irritated with her, but I am a little. Though, I do get why she hasn’t said a word. It's no secret how much she's hated me for years.
I lean back in Dad's chair and it creaks.
I could use some of his advice right about now.
The man raised me on his own after Mom died and if there's one thing he drilled into me, it's that you show up.
You show up when it's easy and when it's hard, and you especially show up when someone needs you even if they're telling you to go away.
Hannah might be wishing me away right now, but I can't even think of respecting that.
She thinks she can do this on her own—or, how'd she put it, she needs "space".
But I know better. No woman wants to go through pregnancy and motherhood alone.
Hannah is probably angry with me over our past, but she's letting that blind her to what we could really have and what she really wants.
Maybe that's not me, but I know damn well it's not being alone, either.
I have to be smart about this. If I come at her too strongly, she'll bolt. She'll shut me out and double down on pushing me away. So I have to let her come to me on her own terms, even if waiting feels like holding my breath underwater. But I also have to protect her from Dorsey.
I'm sitting there turning all of this over in my head when I hear raised voices coming from the pier.
I stand and walk to the window where I see Hannah and Dorsey standing near the passerelle to The Mariah.
Dorsey has a folder in one hand and he's jabbing his finger at something in it while Hannah stands with her arms crossed over her chest and her chin tilted up at him.
If any woman can hold her own, I fully believe it's Hannah Brooks, but my feet carry me out the door and down the pier anyway. This woman I love is carrying my baby, and I'll be damned if I’m going to let a crooked prick like Dorsey speak to her with anything other than the utmost respect.
I'm about ten yards out when Dorsey shoves the folder under his arm and straightens his tie, still snapping at her.
He turns on his heel and passes me with a curt nod and a tight smile.
I almost grab him by the arm to force him to stay and tell me what the hell is going on, but poking an already riled-up hornets' nest doesn’t seem like a good idea.
It's obvious he saw me coming and doesn’t want me interfering.
Hannah stands with her arms still crossed, staring at the water. Her whole body is tense, and she's facing away from me. I slow my pace as I get closer, giving her a second to hear me coming so I don't startle her. But she doesn't turn to face me yet.
Dorsey is such a sick bastard. I can't prove it yet, but I feel it in my gut as real as anything.
And I've never seen him raise his voice or be anything other than fakely polite, but the real him is leaking out now.
I just wish it weren't seeping out at Hannah.
I'd gladly take his ire if it spared her.
"Everything okay?" I ask, stopping a few feet away and keeping my hands in my pockets.
She turns, and there's a flash of raw emotion in her face before the mask slides back into place. "It's fine. Just a disagreement about some of the vendor contracts." But Hannah is shaking. She doesn’t look fine. She looks scared and angry.
"Looked like more than a disagreement." God, no matter how much I want to rush in and rescue her, I can't push it. My instincts are good, but I know she asked for space.
"It's festival business, Luke. I've got it handled." She doesn't sound upset, just defeated, but that only makes me want to pull her into my arms and hold her even more.
"I'm not trying to step on your toes with any of this, Hannah.
I know the festival is yours and you've worked hard on it.
" My chest still feels tight. Seeing Dorsey raising his voice at her infuriates me.
I stare down at the water lapping at the pylons and listen to Paul's crew working across the way.
I feel so trapped by her desire to be independent that I'm getting upset with her for shutting me out, and I know that's the wrong response.
"Thank you," she says carefully, and then she acts like she's going to walk off.
But I can't just let her have a spat with a dangerous man like that and ignore it.
Dorsey is a criminal. There's no doubt in my mind.
And while I can't prove what he's doing here, there's enough suspicion behind him that I also can't let this go on any longer.
If Hannah's going to rile him up, she needs to know who he is.
"Look," I say, stopping her in her tracks, "I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out." I catch the faintest eye roll, like she's already written me off before I speak, but I speak anyway. "Dorsey's not who you think he is, Hannah. He's dangerous, and he's up to no good."
Her arms tighten across her chest but I see a shift behind her eyes. It could be doubt or it could be the beginning of her finally trusting me. I get the feeling she has her doubts too.
"I'm not telling you what to do," I say. "I can't prove anything, but I'm worried he's going to suck you into this and I know it's not good. I just want to protect you."
The wind pulls at her hair and she reaches up to tuck it behind her ear.
"I appreciate the warning," she says softly.
For a second when our eyes meet, I think she might say something else, but her lips stay sealed.
My warning may have fallen on deaf ears, but I'm not about to let Hannah become a casualty in Dorsey's scheme.
"I—"
"Thank you, Luke," she says again firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can handle it from here."
I can see I'm getting nowhere, and this firm but professional angle she's taking feels like she's still shutting me out. It's frustrating as hell, and I hate it. But what am I supposed to do?
I sigh and watch her cross over the passerelle onto her boat and then duck into her salon where she shuts the door and is gone from sight. Why is she being so impossible? Can't she see I’m trying to help her?
I don’t know if it's anger that she's pushing me away like I'm the problem or if it's years of guilt built up over how I failed Nick, but I feel this overwhelming urge to save her.
Sometimes, I think that means saving her from Dorsey, but sometimes, I know that means saving her from herself.
She's stubborn and mule-headed, and if she doesn’t let me help her, I might just go insane.
God knows how hard I’m trying.