Page 48 of The Edge of Summer
Luke releases my chin from his firm grasp, and only then does he seem to realize the gravity of that gesture. I can practically see the walls inside him refortifying themselves as we stand here.
“We can go back inside,” I say. Despite my wobbly knees, my voice is clear. “I’m okay now. I promise to be less of a mess.”
Luke’s jaw clenches, and then it’s his turn to look away. When he meets my eyes again, they hold. “No one who really gives a damn about you will expect you to be perfect.”
“Does that include you?” I ask quietly.
As I wait for his response, my eyes roam, mapping all his features and committing them to memory. The scar almost camouflaged by his left eyebrow, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose, the stubble that covers his jaw.
“Yeah, Shutterbug,” he says. “That includes me.”
The strange thing is, I think I believe him.
When Luke and I step back inside the house, we find Clara standing in the foyer. She glances between me and her brother, trying to puzzle something out. With a nod in mydirection, Luke heads casually for the kitchen, as if the past fifteen minutes hadn’t happened at all.
Clara’s worried eyes settle on me. “Are you okay?”
I smile, forcing my emotions back into their box. “I’m okay. I promise.” I take her arm and loop mine through it. “Let’s go eat cake.”
“You can tell me if you’re not,” she says. “I realized after you ran out that maybe we came on a little strong…” Her smile is tinged with sadness. “I just missed having a friend close by and I wanted you to feel special.”
Guilt slams into me as my heart squeezes a second, painful time. The last thing I wanted was for the Bowmans to feel like they had done something wrong. It isn’t their fault that I can’t act normally.
I nudge Clara’s side. “Hey, stop that. No one is allowed to be sad on my birthday!”
Not even me.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
LUKE
“Why the hell are you here?”
Jodi stands in the doorway to my office, hip cocked as she regards me with a disappointed frown. I’m no stranger to that look. I think this is the fifth time I’ve seen it this week alone.
“Last I checked,” I say, an amused grin stretching my lips, “I work here. I believe I’m your boss actually. Funny how that works.”
She waves me off. “Semantics,” she argues. “I meant, why are youstillhere? You came in before I finished my shift this morning and here I am, already on another one. Gohome, Luke.”
I rub at my tired eyes as a yawn escapes me. “I’m going, I’m going.”
I exit the building to a chorus ofGoodnight, Chieffrom the overnight shift. All that does is make me think of Delilah as I get in my truck and peel out of the parking lot. The name Chief will never be the same after her. Hell, I don’t thinkI’llbe the same when she’s through with me. Which is exactly why I set out to steer clear of her. That, so far, has not worked in my favour.
While I cruise through the quiet streets, my mind drifts to yesterday at Haven House. When Delilah ran out of the kitchen, I didn’t hesitate to follow her. That alone is worrying. I shouldn’t be involved with her. I shouldn’tcareso much. But I do.
Dockside isn’t technically on my route home, but I drive by anyway. I always do. Especially around closing, swinging by gives me peace of mind. Tonight, a lone vehicle sits outside. Delilah’s. Before I really think about what I’m doing, my blinker is on and I’m turning into the gravel parking lot. The stones crunch beneath my tires as I park beside her car.
By now, the front door is locked, so I make my way around to the back of the restaurant. I let myself in with my key and I’m instantly greeted by the sound of loud music. The volume has been cranked, much higher than what it sits at during operating hours. Out in the dining room, Delilah’s hips shimmy to the beat as she wipes down a table with a rag. Instead of her typical shorts, a denim skirt hugs her ass tonight. When she leans over the table, the fabric tightens and I fight the urge to stare.
Once the table is clean, she turns on her heel and instantly shrieks in surprise. A hand clutches her chest.
I arch a brow. “Jumpy?”
She frowns. “What are you doing here? Did Clara send you?”
It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for Clara todo just that. But tonight I came here of my own volition. I can’t seem to stay away.
