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One You Can't Forget Page 7
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Emily felt a cold chill run through her. “I’m sure Luke doesn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter, Em. I mean, talk to Justin, but I’m pretty sure he’d tell you the same thing. As long as these charges are outstanding, you should avoid any people that’ll pull you down. It’s not fair, but it’s guilt by association. If a judge thinks you’re associated with lawbreakers, he or she’s going to assume you’re one too.”
Emily wanted to cry all over again. Her sister was right. She was screwed no matter what she did. Damn! What the hell was she going to do?
#
Luke hid his disappointment that Emily kept their text conversation short. He got it though. Her job kept her busy. His job should be keeping him busy, but he kept replaying last night in his head to pay much attention to business. If Emily walked into the store, he’d fuck her right there in his office just to give his begging cock a break. The power that woman had over him… crazy shit!
Gibs walked in to get his morning coffee from the pot that Luke made when he opened the shop. “Heard about last night.”
“Yeah,” Luke said. “That was a little intense.”
“Who’s the girl?”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Who’s been blathering about me behind my back, Gibs?”
Gibs shrugged. “When?” He pointed to the calendar.
“Good point.” Luke walked over to the calendar, and tugged it off the wall.
“What?” said Gibs. “Five years that thing has been up there and now you take it down? What’s up?”
Luke grinned. “Time to move into the present.”
“You’re no fun,” Gibs muttered. He held his hand out. “Let me keep that thing.”
“Get to work,” countered Luke with a smile. “Your wife’ll kill you if she sees that thing hanging up in your garage.”
#
“Hey, baby,” said Luke. He’d been waiting all day to call her. Counting down the seconds like a sad little adolescent boy with his first crush.
“Hi,” said Emily without enthusiasm.
“You okay?” The tone of her voice killed his mood.
“A bit of a rough day.”
“Anything I can do?” He pictured lying her on his bed and offering to give her a relaxing massage. Some oil, some candlelight, a bit of tongue. He pushed the image from his mind. It wasn’t just sex he was interested in. She just had a hot body.
“No.”
Luke was at a loss. This withdrawn woman he spoke to was not the enthusiastic woman in his bed last night. “Em? What’s up?”
“Luke, uh,” she said and released a long sigh. “I don’t know how to say this, but, I, uh, can’t see you for a while.”
He sat back in his chair, his mouth dropping open. What the hell? “Why? What’s wrong?”
“I really can’t talk about it, Luke. I had a great time last night. Sorry for the mixed signals. I’ll give you a call after things settle down. Good-bye, Luke.”
Abruptly the call ended and Luke sat there, floored. The room spun around him, much like it did ten years ago when he tried to visit Emily and found she had left town, possibly forever. That anguish returned, the same heavy feeling of self-doubt and depression he felt during that long summer where he was confined to bed while his leg healed and Emily didn’t visit.
What the fuck just happened?
Did he do something wrong? Did he push her too hard last night for sex? No. He didn’t think so. She was the one who suggested they go back to his apartment. He couldn’t have mistaken her enthusiasm. Emily wanted him as much he wanted her.
Did it have something to do with her parents? Did they see the logo on the SUV and put two and two together? Did those very proper Catholic folk object to their daughter being out all night with a man? Object to Emily being with him?
Luke remembered with bitterness when her parents grounded her for the rest of the school year when he brought her home late after her curfew. It was all perfectly innocent. They had simply fallen asleep while watching the stars. Both of them worked hard during the week, with school and part-time jobs. It was easy for both of them to relax with each other, natural to fall asleep in each other’s arms. All innocent. Even when he had wanted more, he never pressed it. She was the one who pushed him.
It was a month before Emily agreed to go on a ride on his bike and that stupid accident happened. The shit hit the fan then, both with his injuries and his relationship with Emily. It took him a long time, a near-death experience, and a stint in the Navy to get his life back together.
He didn’t understand this and he couldn’t. Luke sat in his living room as raw anger seeped from his gut into his heart. If Emily Rose Dougherty was too fucking good to be with him, that was her problem, not his. This had nothing to do with her parents. She used him, just as she’d used and tossed him ten years ago.
#
Emily sat in her living room, her eyes cried out, never feeling more alone. Justin had called to confirm what Angela had said. Hanging out with a known criminal element would not help her case in court.
When she tried to protest she was sure Luke had nothing to do with what happened to the club’s president, he disagreed. “I’m sure law enforcement doesn’t see it that way. You can be sure, Emily, if one was convicted, and others are being investigated. You do yourself a favor, and stay away from anyone in Hades’ Spawn motor club.”
Luke called almost as soon as she hung up the phone. She didn’t want to say those words, didn’t have the right words to say to him. What was she supposed to tell him? Luke, hanging out with you is going to hurt my case in court? Of course not. It wasn’t Luke’s fault some idiot in his club got himself in trouble. Then again, she didn’t know everything about Luke. He might be involved. Even if she doubted he was, she couldn’t be sure.
She, on the other hand, had to act responsibly, to do what she needed to get her life back on course.
Never at any point did she hate Evan Waters as she did the minute she told Luke she couldn’t see him. White heat flared in her heart as she heard the disappointment in Luke’s voice. She didn’t want to hurt him and never meant to.
Grief rocked her, the same grief when her parents forbade her after the accident from seeing Luke ever again. Intellectually she knew her father was only trying to protect her when he threatened to pull her college trust fund away if she did. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and Emily never felt right about herself after she caved in to his demand. Still, she knew she’d never get a college education without it, not for the school she was accepted to. But she felt like a traitor, both to Luke and to herself.
And now she’d gone and done it again, brushed Luke off for the sake of expediency. Emily was ashamed. Doing the “right” thing was wrong, totally wrong, then and now.
She wouldn’t blame Luke if he hated her.
He deserved better than that, someone better than her.
CHAPTER TEN
Good Advice
Luke took a long drive early the next morning. He couldn’t sleep, after tossing and turning all night he needed to clear his head. He took the Sportster and flew south on I-91, through the exchange in New Haven to I-95 over the Q Bridge. The Pearl Harbor Memorial Bridge spanned I-95 over the mouth of the Quinnipiac River, so instead of calling it the Pearl, the locals called it the Q. He glanced at his watch and seeing it was close to rush hour, got off on the Branford Exit and struck out on Route 17 North. The two-lane road swung through the Connecticut countryside to ultimately land in Middletown. The hilly and twisty roads were just what Luke needed to put his head back together. It reminded him of what he loved so much about bike riding; the feel of the open road, the sense that alone he could conquer anything.
He couldn’t stay angry at Emily long. Shit, he never could. However, he was a man now, not a lost little kid. He didn’t need to be told again he didn’t fit into her proper Catholic, middle-class life. He’d made the mistake once, he wouldn’t let himself do it a second time.
It sucked they co
uldn’t be together, but life didn’t always work out the way you wanted. He was glad he got to spend one night with her. After high school, it made the good memories kind of complete.
These were the things he told himself over and over as the countryside and the tiny towns flashed by him. His thoughts were thin bandages against his wounded pride and the hole in his heart Emily had torn open again. He’d survived many things in this world, including the first time Emily dumped him. He didn’t need her or the heartache. He had his business and the Hades’ Spawn, and eventually maybe he’d find a woman to share it all with.
Rumbling through Durham, a town whose Main Street was lined with original 17th, 18th and 19th century homes, he debated the merits of breaking off Route 17 to travel Route 68 which would carry him back to I-91 or continuing up Route 17. Again, rush hour played a factor so he continued up the tree-lined Route 17, trying to enjoy the morning quiet. When he arrived in Middletown he made his way to Route 66 towards Westfield, and slowly back to the shop.
“Where’ve you been, Boss?” Gibs sat at Luke’s desk drinking a cup of coffee. “I made coffee.” He pointed at the brewed pot.
“Took a drive.” Luke went over and filled his broken Harley mug.
“Hmph.”
“What’s the problem?” It annoyed Luke that Gibs had to moan the minute he stepped in the shop. “You have a key.”
“The problem’s not with me.”
Raising an eyebrow, Luke stared at him. “Then why are you at my desk?”
Gibs stood up immediately. “Sorry, but I had to sit down after seeing that first thing in the morning.” Gibs pointed to a spot behind Luke.
Luke turned to see what he was pointing at. In the doorway stood Deirdre, wearing tight black skinny jeans, red spike heels, and a very tight v-neck tee. The shirt was so tight it pulled down to show a good amount of her cleavage.
“Hello, Deirdre.” Someone was wearing their fuck-me clothes today.
“Hi, Luke. Can I talk to you?”
“Gibs, shut the garage door behind you.”
“Sure thing, Boss.”
When they were alone, Luke turned to face Deirdre. She walked up to him slowly, giving him a sexy pout.
“I’ve been thinking,” she murmured.
“Uh-huh.” Luke swallowed. It was hard not to notice her nice, tight body. He tried keeping his gaze on her eyes.
“You don’t look happy to see me.” She leaned into him and pressed her lips against his, slipping her tongue into his mouth and pulling back slightly.
Luke sighed. “What do you want?”
She found a spot on his tee shirt and picked at it. “Don’t make this hard, Luke. I was wrong and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum. I was just disappointed. I wanted to show off my hot, sexy boyfriend. You can’t blame me for that.” She pouted again and pressed her hips into him. “I was selfish and I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” Deirdre slid her hand up his chest and put her arm around his neck while Luke said nothing. She kissed his neck, letting her hand slide over his cock. “Can you forgive me?”
“Sure,” Luke shrugged.
“Really?” She smiled.
“But that doesn’t change anything.”
“Pardon.” She stepped back, unsure if he was kidding or serious.
“You’re right that we have different interests. The club’ll always be important to me, motor biking even more. That’s a huge, unsolvable problem. You said yourself you hate my bikes.”
“I can try.” She pouted again, this time not a hint of sexy played on her face.
“You’d hate it and you know it. Deirdre, life’s too short to keep doing something you don’t like.”
“But Luke,” she whined, “I’ve been so miserable without you! I’d rather do something I don’t like and be with you than to be without.”
“Then you need to change your thinking, because I’m not willing to be with a woman, any woman, that suffers who I am or what I do.”
“Luke,” she said, an appeal in her voice, “I’m not willing to give up on us. I can change.”
“I’m sorry, Deirdre.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to get to work now.”
Deirdre bit her lip. She didn’t say anything as she spun around and left the shop.
Gibs opened the garage door. “Good. She’s gone. The other one’s much better.”
“Shut up, and get back to work.”
Deirdre’s visit and Gibs’ words worked a nerve in Luke he couldn’t put aside. He was too raw from Emily’s rejection that seeing Deirdre only frustrated his morning. Working on a bike repair, he slid the wrong size bolt in and ruined the thread for the third time. “Dammit!” He drilled the tool in his hand across the room. “Gibs, I’m taking a break.”
“For how long?”
“For as fucking long as I want. Lock up if you have to.”
“But what about—”
Luke was out the door before Gibs finished his sentence. He jumped on his bike and pulled out on the highway, not knowing nor caring where he went. He drove around aimlessly for a while, and then spotted a Catholic church on a corner of the road. It was a brownstone building with a parking lot to the right, and a green lawn in front with an ancient blue stone pathway from the parking lot and also from the street to the front doors. Flowers edged the pathway, pink, blue and white laid in alternating clumps.
He pulled into the parking lot, not sure why he was there. Maybe he wanted to see for himself what the damned attraction was, what was so important that Emily would follow it down a road away from him.
He tried the front door and found it was locked.
“Friggin’ figures,” he muttered. He picked up a rock lying on the slate walk and flung it at the brownstone wall. Luke didn’t throw it close enough to hit any of the stained glass windows, but it was an act of defiance nonetheless.
“It’s all your fault!” he yelled. “All your fucking fault!”
“Hey,” someone said behind him.
Luke stood like a deer in the headlights when a priest came from the other side of the building. “Is there a problem?” The priest was a medium height and built man, with graying black hair. He watched Luke, not in anger, but with concern. He held some bags in his hand.
“I’m sorry.” Luke knew his face was burning. “I’ll go.”
“That’s your choice. However, the good Lord brought you here, maybe it was for a reason.”
Luke looked away, not knowing what to say.
“Look,” said the priest, “I’ve got to open the church for a service. Come in and see inside. It’s really quite beautiful, especially with the morning light coming in. Here, you can help me with these.”
“Sure,” Luke mumbled. He was embarrassed at his childish behavior and felt the least he could do was lend the man a hand.
“I’m Father Peters, by the way.”
“Luke Wade.”
The priest unlocked the door with his keys.
“You know we hate to do this, lock the doors. But when vandalism got to be too much, the bishop ordered it.”
“Understandable.”
Luke entered alongside the priest into a vestibule of white washed stone. On either side, stairs led upwards to some unknown place. The priest walked straight forward into the church.
On either side of the aisles stood wood pews, and ahead on raised steps behind a railing, was a marble altar. There were four windows on each side, depicting biblical images in stained glass.
“They’re quite beautiful.” Luke tried to make conversation, still too embarrassed by his actions.
“The windows were imported from Austria in the eighteen hundreds in pieces. The pieces were assembled and leaded on site.”
“That’s amazing.”
The priest walked up the steps where the railing was, knelt quickly and crossed himself. He gave a backward glance to Luke.
“Not Catholic, are you?”
“I’m not anything.”
T
he priest continued past the altar and into a side room.
“We call this the vestry. It’s where I dress for services.”
“Oh, I should leave.”
“No need. All I do is put on the chasuble and the alb. Here, give me those.”
“What are they?”
“The Eucharist and the sacramental wine for the service.”
“Better be careful there, Father. Your Boss might not appreciate someone like me handling them.”
The priest chuckled and took the bags.
“You mean that stuff on your jacket?”
“Well, they aren’t stuff. Those patches mean something.”
“I’m sure they do, like my vestments. If I remember my Greek literature, Hades was the god of the dead. Some people equate Hades with transformation. Oh, not like death, but the deep changes that happen from time to time in their lives.”
“That sounds about familiar,” Luke said, amazed the priest was even having a conversation with him.
“So are you going through one of those changes now?”
Luke looked away and nodded. He wasn’t going to lie to a priest.
“And you blame God?”
Damn, he had heard Luke outside. “No, it’s really her parents. The girl’s.” He tried to laugh. “It’s always about a girl, isn’t it?” He shook his head as the priest patiently waited for him to finish. “It’s just that they are very Catholic, and they don’t think someone like me is good enough for their daughter.”
“Really?” asked the priest, his face completely unreadable. “Have you broken the law?”
“No.”
“Drink or do drugs?”
“I drink socially, but I never do drugs.”
“Disrespected their daughter?”
“No.” He didn’t think he had.
“Disrespected them?”