27. Luke
LUKE
It's midnight, a week before the festival, and after weeks of planning I got a call this afternoon from Colonel Harlan that we needed more substantial proof. Apparently, the military won't work with what our suspicions are. They must have hard evidence, and that's what I'm going to get them.
"So, what if he doesn't show up?" Hannah asks, popping a piece of licorice into her mouth.
She sits cross-legged on my desk, watching out the window on the back side of my office that overlooks the harbor and the piers.
When I told her I was staking the place out tonight, she insisted on being a part of it.
So far, we've managed to keep our hands to ourselves and watch the piers.
"He'll show up. He only has a week left to do his dirty deeds before people start suspecting the traffic out here this late.
" I reach into the box in Hannah's hand and grab a piece of the chewy candy to eat.
She's generous, having brought her own snacks and drinks while I managed to remember a cup of coffee in my large Stanley thermos and nothing else.
I chew the sticky candy and stare out over the moonlit water reminiscing.
Nick and I used to do shit like this when we were teens.
We'd walk out to the bluffs when he'd sleep over and sit on the rocks, talking shit and throwing stones into the surf all hours of the night.
Dad always knew we were doing it, but he played dumb the next day when we were so tired we slept until one in the afternoon.
Those days seem so far away now, but the memory is so fresh. I can almost hear Nick's laughter at my stupid jokes and sense his spirit here with us, hovering over the water while Hannah and I watch for Dorsey to show up.
"You know, Nick used to talk about the crazy shit you two did down at these piers…
" Hannah sounds nostalgic. I can't blame her for wanting to open up, though on a stakeout doesn’t seem to be the right time.
Still, she's opening the door, and who am I to stop her?
If we're ever going to move past the hurt of our past in any meaningful way, we have to be able to be open about our feelings.
We've been more relaxed around each other and more open, but with our busy schedules—her business and mine—we haven't even been on a proper date or anything. This night is the closest we've come to anything resembling a relationship.
"Yeah?" I ask, smiling though in the dark, she can't see me. "What sort of things?"
I'm not volunteering anything stupid Nick did simply for the fact that in her eyes, Nick was a superhero. To Hannah, he was perfect and did no wrong when in reality, the opposite is true. We were hellraisers, which is how he ended up dying.
Hannah sighs, and I hear her smile more than see it.
"Well, he told me you used to catch seagulls and try to bury them alive.
" She chuckles, such a sweet, tinkling sound, it moves my heart.
Her laughter is as infectious as her smile, making me want to mold myself to her and own that part of her heart that's happy and bright.
"I think he probably meant he did that," I joke, but we both did. God, we were horrible kids.
"And he said you'd come down here and drink Frank's beer…" She chuckles again, and her arm reaches over, bumping into my chest as she offers me more candy. "Is that one true?"
I pull a piece of licorice from the box and close my eyes, remembering how Nick would badger me into taking beer out of Dad's office fridge. We'd each have one or two and be so tipsy back then, but we never really overdid it until we were much older.
"Yeah, it's true…" Then the night he died, we were both so stupid. "Nick did love his beer."
Hannah gets quiet for a minute. In the light from the window, all I can see is her silhouette, but I see her head is down. It looks like she's thinking, or maybe crying, though I don't hear sniffling or anything.
I know talking about Nick must not be easy for her, especially with me.
I know how she blames me for what happened, and she never once heard my side of things.
In court when it was my turn to tell my side of the events, she wasn't there, and neither were her parents.
It must've been too painful for all three of them to hear. It was excruciating for me too.
"Luke," she says softly, and I grunt in response. "Tell me what happened that night…"
For a second I think she's upset, that she's looking for a reason to rekindle that anger she's held over my head for more than a decade. But then her hand slides into mine and her fingers weave between mine and I let my shoulders relax.
My eyes stay fixed on the light dancing on the water, but I tell her everything I remember.
"It was late that night. Nick and I and a few friends were south of the bluffs in the clearing in the woods.
" My throat constricts and I have to swallow around the knot.
"We ran out of beer, which one of the guys brought…
His older brother bought it for us that time. "
God, I haven't had to relive this moment since that night and I've pushed it away so many times. I don't want to dredge up this painful past, but Hannah deserves answers. And maybe now that she's grown, she's ready to hear them.
"Anyway, I wasn't drinking because I knew I'd driven Dad's jeep down there and I didn't want him pissed at me for drinking and driving.
So Nick insisted I drive him back to the marina to steal Dad's beer from his fridge.
" I leave out the part where we argued about how much I didn't want to, because I don't want her to think I’m changing the story today to make myself look better.
What happened happened, and I can't change the past.
"So, you went for beer?" Hannah's fingers curl around mine as she asks, and I feel my breath being sucked out of me.
"We did…" I sigh and hold her hand more tightly too.
She's not the only one having to bear through this.
"I was going about forty on the dirt road and Nick was being loud. He turned the radio up so loud, I couldn't talk over it, and he stood up on his seat. He wouldn’t sit when I shouted at him, and he wouldn’t put his seatbelt on. "
The night flashes in my mind so crystal clear, it's like it happened yesterday.
The tire hit a boulder in the path that I couldn't see in the dark and the truck rolled to its side.
Nick was killed instantly while I dangled in the seat by my seatbelt screaming his name.
I got out, but we had no service and I had to hike up to the main road bloody and sore to get a line out.
By the time the ambulance got there, Nick was just gone.
"And he died…" she mumbles, and I definitely hear crying now.
"Hannah, I'm so sorry. I should've never driven without him in that seat belt. I know if he'd been sitting down buckled in, he'd still be here and…"
It shocks me when she crawls onto my lap and wraps her arms around my shoulders.
She sobs, her whole body shaking as she clings to me, and I hold her.
Tears prick my eyes too. It's been a very long time, and once I enlisted, I never shed another tear over this, but seeing how badly it's hurt her, I feel like the worst human being alive.
I didn't kill Nick, but I certainly didn't stop him from dying, either.
There's no way anyone could've foreseen that accident, but we both made so many bad choices.
The drinking and sneaking off into the night—stealing Dad's beer, and of course, not being safe in the car.
All of it culminated in the loss of Nick's life that was both tragic and traumatizing.
"I'm sorry, Hannah. I never meant for that to happen."
"I know," she whimpers, sniffling into my neck. I feel her tears moisten my skin and hold her more tightly until she pulls back and shoves the hair out of her face.
"I forgive you," she says softly, face only inches from mine. "Because I know you didn’t do anything wrong."
"Hannah," I start, but her lips press to mine firmly.
She kisses me gently, then parts her lips, letting me search her.
This is so different from the hunger we feel every time we're alone.
It's more raw and intimate, like she's finally letting me have her fully.
And she tastes like the sticky sweet candy we've been eating.
It's not the right time or place to take her again, when she's so vulnerable and open with me, but God, I want to.
Until lights flash outside the window on the pier and I see men walking.
I push her back an inch, focusing beyond the window into the night, and I can't believe we missed the boat approaching.
"Hannah," I whisper, nodding at the window. She still clings to me, nipping at my lower lip and trying to get me to kiss her more, but I grab her hips firmly. "Hannah," I say again, this time louder so she hears my tone. "We've got company."
She slides off my lap to stand by the window, and I join her as I rearrange the tent in my jeans.
We watch in silence as at least seven men disembark The Cut Bait and use flashlights to navigate the pier.
They walk single file up pier two toward the bridge, then off beyond my office to the parking lot where they climb in a truck and take off.
"They're going to get a van or something to move their freight," she breathes, still whispering.
Turning, I start for the door. "Yeah, they are, and who knows how long they'll be gone.
I've got to get down there and find out what's on that boat.
" I'm already moving, wishing I had a weapon of some sort.
Those men were packing, and they were ready for a fight.
If they come back and I'm unarmed, seven to one are horrible odds.
"I'm going with you," she hisses, tiptoeing over to me. I still hear her sniffling, though, and the idea of her getting caught up in this terrifies me.