Chapter 10
LUKE
“Open the door, Gabe!” My knuckles thud against the wood harder than intended, a dull vibration traveling up my arm like a warning shot.
The door swings open. Gabe leans against the frame, a mug of coffee steaming in his hand, smirk already in place. “Hey, buddy.”
I shoulder past him, the urgency snapping under my skin like live wires. “Thanks for calling me last night when you ditched the bar with Isla. Really appreciate the heads up.”
Gabe glances at the floor before meeting my stare. I clock the hesitation—guilt brushed with stubbornness.
“I figured you’d hear about it this morning,” he says. “I needed more information from her first.”
“And did you get it?”
“A sliver.” He huffs out a breath. “That girl is locked down tighter than a damn vault.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “So what’s going on? Why was she shaken up last night?”
“I gave her my word, I'd keep it between us until she speaks to you.”
My laugh is sharp. “What the fuck, man? I reach out for help, and now you’re shutting me out?”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he says, maddeningly calm. “She barely trusts anyone. If I betray that, she’ll never talk.”
“Oh, that’s precious. Maybe you two can get matching BFF necklaces.”
Gabe watches me unravel with that infuriating half-smile.
“What?” I snap.
“Nothing,” he says, smirk deepening.
I scan the room for any sign of Isla. “Where is she?”
“Relax. She’s on the patio playing with Hannibal.”
“Great,” I mutter. “She’s catching rabies.”
“He only bites bad guys,” Gabe jokes, moving toward the kitchen. He grabs another mug.
I follow. “That ferret is a menace, and I’m 90% sure he’s not even legal.”
That little rodent gives me the creeps—a fact that Gabe deems hilarious.
He hands me coffee with a smirk. I raise it. “Do I look like someone who needs caffeine?”
Before he can fire back—
“What is going on here?”
Every time I hear her voice, something in me forgets to brace for impact. It’s smooth and silky, and it envelops me like a satin blanket, despite my current irritated state.
I turn as she steps through the door, the small ferret wrapped around her neck like a deadly, furry scarf.
“Why is Luke here?” Isla demands, eyes sharp and narrowed.
Gabe and I exchange the same silent look we’ve exchanged our entire lives—wordless communication, useless in situations involving women.
“Someone better start talking,” Isla snaps.
Gabe lifts his hands. “You two have things to discuss.”
“I told you I didn’t want to involve Luke,” she fires back.
“And based on what you told me last night,” Gabe counters, “I made a judgment call about both your safety. So you’re talking. It’s the only way forward.”
She puts the ferret down. It darts off like a tiny criminal evading capture.
“I’ll give you space,” he adds.
“No. You stay.” I jerk a thumb toward the door. “We’re leaving.”
“I’m not leaving with you.” Isla crosses her arms over her chest.
“Then I can carry you out of here. This conversation is happening. Ten years is long enough.”
Isla stomps ahead of me across the pavement, muttering under her breath. I catch fragments—“unbelievable,” “safe,” “ruined”—each clipped and sharp.
I open the truck door. She climbs in with a huff. Her lips are pulled so tight they could snap. The sight would be funny if everything inside me weren’t so twisted up.
Isla’s fire is undeniably attractive. It always has been.
Once the engine rumbles to life, she finally breaks. “Where are we going?”
“For a drive.”
She stares straight ahead. “Nothing happened with Gabe.”
I shoot her a glance. “That never crossed my mind.”
She angles her body to face me. “Then why did you charge into his apartment like Rambo?”
“I didn’t ’charge in like Rambo’,” I add the air quotes because she earned them. A smile tugs at my mouth despite everything.
“Could’ve fooled me,” she mutters.
“Why did you leave the inn?”
“I was creeped out by being alone.”
The Isla I knew used to crave solitude like oxygen.
We drive in silence, the rhythmic hum of the tires rolling over the asphalt, the only sound breaking through the stillness inside the cab of the truck. Isla sits like a statue, her hands gripping the denim covering her knees white-knuckled.
As we approach the lake, the sunlight dances on the rippling water, and I take a deep cleansing breath, for the first time in about twelve hours.
I carefully maneuver the truck into a vacant spot on the dusty, uneven ground, shift it into park, and turn toward Isla. “Do you want to walk around?”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “Why did you bring me here?”
The lake was a mirror that never lied. Still one moment, storming the next.
Just like her.
“It’s my favorite place in town.”
When I turn and meet Isla’s gaze, a storm of emotions flickers across her face. Without uttering a single word, she quietly slips out of the truck.
The shore is a short distance, and we walk side by side before staring out at the stretch of water.
As I allow the past to permeate my thoughts, I can’t help but replay the memories of teaching Isla to skip rocks in this very place. She was endearingly terrible at it. She’d choose the wrong stones, always the round and heavy ones that never skimmed.
Her throws were all wrong, too. They were more of a dunk than a skip, creating a loud “plop” and sending endless ripples that startled every fish in the vicinity.
Finally, Isla’s voice breaks the tension. “You asked Gabe to look into my life.”
“Yes,” I reply, my voice ice-cold and unyielding, not a shred of remorse to be found. “I also instructed my deputy to keep watch over the inn and your mom’s house. That’s how I knew you were at Gabe’s.”
“Why?”
“After the accident, I was concerned.” I stoop down and pick up a smooth, flat rock, before turning it over in my hand like it holds the secrets I need answers to. “I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy.”
Isla kicks up a spray of pebbles, sending a gritty explosion of dirt into the air.
“It’s nearly impossible to protect you when I know nothing about you.”
Her chin juts out, defiance etched into every angle. “I’ve managed to keep myself safe my entire life. I don’t need your help.”
“Except for when you almost died in a fire,” I counter, each word a blade. “Or when you were nearly run down in the street.”
Isla’s eyes ignite with fury, and she spins on her heel, her footsteps pounding against the earth. “Take me home.”
“Where is home, Isla? Let’s start there.”
Her breath escapes sharply. “San Francisco.”
Just as I suspected.
“And what does Isla’s life look like in San Francisco? A pristine home with a white picket fence? A husband? Two kids and a dog?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Take me back to Gabe’s.” Her voice cracks, desperation threading through every syllable.
“You’re not staying with Gabe.”
She recoils as if struck. “I can stay wherever I want.”
“Except with Gabe,” I say, my calm demeanor a thin veneer over the storm beneath.
“Fuck you, Luke!” Tears cascade down her face like a torrent unleashed.
The echo of her voice ripples across the lake, carrying our history on the wind. All the words we’d swallowed, all the years we’d wasted pretending they didn’t matter.
Heaviness settles in my chest, but I refuse to relent. I need answers. “Tell me why you left, Isla.”
She won’t meet my eyes, arms wrapped around herself.
“You were my forever, and you vanished. No goodbye. No reason.” My voice breaks, sharper than I mean it. “You quit on us.”
Her arms flail as she screams. “If you hate me so much, why do you care where I stay while in town?”
“Because you’re tangled in something dangerous, way over your head. I need to protect you while you’re here, no matter how I feel about you.”
“Then I’ll just leave town.”
“Is that what you really want?”
She stares straight ahead at the lake, the tension palpable. “No.”
“Then you’ll stay. But you’ll stay with me.”
She whirls around to face me, disbelief etched across her features. “Why in the frick would I stay with you?”
My feet freeze to the beach. “Frick?”
“I work with kids. I can’t curse, so I’ve trained myself to use different words. Earlier was an exception.”
The thought of her working with kids tugs at a frayed thread in my hardened heart. “You’ll stay with me because I’m the sheriff. I’m the only one who can keep you safe.”
“Staying with you is the last thing that will keep me safe.”
My eyes narrow.
She shakes her head, reluctance clouding her eyes. “I just don’t think it’s the best idea.”
“That’s how it’s going to be, Isla.”
“It could put you in danger.”
“I’m already involved, Isla,” I insist, stepping closer, my determination unwavering.
She startles me by reaching out, her fingers curling around mine with a gentle grip, sending a shock of warmth through my entire being. Her touch is a haunting reminder of something almost forgotten, a paradox of heaven and hell.
Her eyes scan my face, desperate for answers hidden within my expression. “I’m trying to figure things out. I need time.”
“I want to help you.”
I need to.
She hesitates, then releases my hand, her fingers slipping away like sand through my grasp. Turning, she faces the horizon with determination.
“I’ll stay with you,” she concedes. “But only if you can promise not to ask me about the past.”
My pulse pounds in my ears, yet there’s a sharp, vindictive satisfaction in knowing she’s finally coming around.
Her surrender isn’t peace; it’s a truce built on exhaustion. But I’ll take it. I’ll always take scraps of her if that’s all she has left.
“Fine. Let’s go get your stuff from Gabe’s place.” My back teeth grind together as I spit out the words.
The ride back to Gabe’s is filled with a loud silence. Neither of us is eager to shatter the fragile peace we shared with words.
As soon as the truck rolls to a stop at the curb, I hop out and round the vehicle to open the door for Isla. She steps down onto the pavement, and we head inside the apartment.
In the living room, Gabe is seated at his makeshift office in the corner, where a large desk is cluttered with three computer monitors, each displaying streams of information that resemble a foreign language.
He rises to greet us. “And how are the lovebirds doing?”
“Shut up,” I snap, watching Isla breeze through to the master bedroom to collect her things with a determined air.
“What’s happening?”
“Isla’s staying with me.”
His brow knits together in confusion. “Alright. Then why do you look so…constipated?”
I brush off his feeble attempt at humor. “How do you expect me to feel, Gabe?”
“Relieved? Now that the truth’s out?”
My muscles are so rigid they ache. “I’m in the dark. She refuses to open up about anything.”
Gabe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I keep telling her she needs to talk to you.”
“Why would she bother when she has you to confide in?”
He raises his hands defensively. “Wait a minute. I’m not the villain here. I didn’t volunteer to be stuck in the middle of this mess.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “I know. It’s just maddening that she won’t tell me anything.”
“It’s tough to release secrets held for so long,” Gabe acknowledges. “Give her some time.”
“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
“Do what you promised. Protect her.”
“It’s more difficult when she’s holding onto secrets.”
Gabe nods slowly, a knowing look in his eyes. “She will come around. She’s scared and trying to protect herself. It’s all she knows.”
I snort. “When did you become an expert on the female psyche?”
“Oh, I know nothing about women. Trust me. But one thing I do know is that particular woman in there,” he gestures towards his bedroom, “wants nothing more than to fix things between the two of you.”
I exhale sharply. “She sure has a prickly way of showing it. I don’t get the sense she wants to fix anything. If there’s anything there to fix at all.”
“Well, from the way she looks at you and the fact that she agreed to stay with you, I’m pretty sure there is,” Gabe says.
A mix of doubt and lingering hope stirs in my chest. “We’ll see.”
Isla emerges abruptly, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder with deliberate resolve.
“You ready to go?”
“I’ll follow you,” she responds, her hand cutting through the air in a sweeping gesture.
“Thank you for everything, Gabe,” she says, her words trailing behind her as she strides out.
I rein in my irritation, standing by the front door with Gabe, as she climbs into her car, her presence a storm leaving in its wake.
“Be patient with her,” Gabe urges again. “She’s been through a lot.”
Every time Gabe lectures me on how to manage Isla, it feels like a knife plunging into my heart, twisting with each word.
“I’ve got it,” I snap. “And if she gets bored, you can come over and braid each other’s hair.”
Gabe scoffs. “You’re hopeless,” he calls back before disappearing into his apartment with the furry menace at his heels.
I hate myself right now because he’s right. If I don’t get my shit together, I will lose Isla again. And deep down, the bitter truth gnaws at me. I won’t be able to come back from it again.
And maybe that’s the point. Maybe some loves are meant to undo you, not redeem you.