by Chloe Cox
Suddenly his eyes got alert, and she followed his gaze to the low-slung gray ranch house at the end of the street. It had a flamingo on the lawn and a jug of tea steeping on the stoop. Maybe he’d been serious about the flamingos.
“Is this it?” Charlene asked. “Is this your sister’s place?”
Now she was turned on, excited, and nervous.
She watched as Luke angled his smoldering gaze from the front stoop to Charlene. There was a line in between his eyebrows, casting a shadow over the stippled gold of his irises.
“It is now,” he said. “But Rosie only moved back when she split from her husband.”
“So…?”
“This is the house I grew up in,” he said. Then he looked at Charlene, his gold-flecked eyes hard and sad at the same time.
“This is my mother’s house,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Charlene stared at Luke while they both sat, motionless, in his car, parked just down the street from the house with the flamingo out front.
His mother’s house.
“I should warn you,” Luke said. “She doesn’t know you’re coming.”
Charlene felt her eyes go wide. “You’re taking me to meet your mother without warning her first?”
“It’s not like she knows I’m coming either,” he said.
She couldn’t help but laugh.
“You didn’t RSVP to your mom’s wedding? What is it with men and invitations?”
But Luke didn’t laugh, and Charlene’s heart fell as she realized she’d just totally stepped in it—somehow.
“She didn’t invite me,” he said. “I might not be welcome, no matter what Rosie says.”
Yeah, she had totally stepped in it.
Charlene was neither laughing nor smiling now. Instead her heart was breaking for the man she loved.
“How’s that possible?” she said softly.
He didn’t immediately reply. He didn’t need to. It had been a rhetorical question anyway.
Charlene had never been welcome in her father’s home either.
How easily the bonds of blood between generations shattered. It made the moments that they shared with their family—their real family, the one that was reassembling the wreckage of Charlene’s life back home—all the more special.
So she watched him as he watched his childhood home, in silence. And she saw.
Luke wasn’t just trying to rebuild her trust. He was showing her something that he’d never let anyone see.
Maybe more importantly, he was exposing himself to something he wanted to believe didn’t matter anymore.
It did matter to him. It obviously mattered a lot.
Luke was drinking in the sight of it, and his past was a wild beast tearing through his heart, down in the hidden places where he’d gotten used to hiding everything. But Charlene could see it. The monster came out in the way he imprisoned himself in the driver’s seat and the faintest twitch of the muscles around his eyes. His chiseled jaw hadn’t unclenched for minutes.
Whatever memories drenched his mom’s house, it wasn’t the stuff of happy childhoods.
Charlene’s hand crept over the center console. She caught herself before taking his hand.
“Should we go inside?” she asked.
He nodded. “It’s time.”
Luke put the car in gear, the engine rumbling to life, reminding her of the timbre of his voice when she lay across his chest. That felt so far away now. Instead she watched him carefully, his face unreadable, as he swung the car into the driveway behind another car, already sitting out in the sun.
She watched as he opened the door, his eyes trained on the front of that house.
And she watched as the screen door of that house swung open and a woman stepped hesitantly out into the sun.
The woman who emerged looked very much like Luke, despite being a tough fifty-something with wings of white hair at her temples. Her trembling fingers lifted to her mouth as Luke emerged from the driver’s seat, gently closing the door behind him.
The woman made it halfway down the walk and froze, her eyes locked on Luke. Charlene got out of the car, not knowing what to say or do. Neither, apparently, did the woman, who was probably Luke’s mother. Charlene couldn’t tell if she was angry, or anxious, or upset—not until she followed behind Luke, and got a little closer.
What she saw in the older woman’s eyes was guilt. Guilt so heavy that it was paralyzing. Guilt so heavy that all she could do was bring her hands to her heart while tears danced in her eyes.
Charlene looked at Luke. He was wary, and worried, like she knew he’d be. Worried that he shouldn’t have come. Worried that he’d only caused his mother more pain.
She could even see how he wanted to move forward and comfort his mother, his muscles taut and tense, but he restrained himself. Always the protector. Always so controlled.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice as gentle as she’d ever heard it.
“Luke,” the other woman said. She opened her mouth to say more, but no words came. She simply shook her head in disbelief, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“We’re here for the wedding,” Luke said, again so gently that it broke Charlene’s heart. “Is that all right with you?”
Luke’s mother covered her mouth with her hands, and her shoulders started to shake. And Luke couldn’t take it. Charlene watched him move forward so quickly it was like a dam bursting, this large man moving toward his own crying mother, stopping short because he still wasn’t sure whether he’d hurt or help.
His mom was sure. She collapsed into her son’s arms, and wept.
Luke held his mom while she cried, and his expression when he looked up at Charlene was something she would never, ever forget. She could tell he was confused, but steady, ever the man in control. But it was more than that.
He looked at her with raw emotion, because he wanted her to see.
He wanted her to see all the pain swirling underneath, all the uncertainty. All the years behind all of that. This was his biggest wound, barely healed into a scar, and he was showing it to her. He was letting her inside the place he’d been cut deepest.
And that’s about when Charlene started to cry. Just in time for everyone else in the house to come pouring out the front door and witness the whole thing.
“Who’s there, Bella?” a male voice called out from the house behind Luke’s mother. Luke ripped his gaze away from Charlene, his attention away from his mother—his mother who was hugging him, and crying, apparently out of happiness—and tensed. It was his natural reaction to meeting his mother’s men.
Only this one was supposed to be different.
He looked different. Hell, he looked like a deacon, all friendly smiles and a button-down tucked into jeans. And he was coming forward with his hand outstretched.
“You must be Luke,” he said. “I’m Paul.”
And he shook Luke’s hand.
Luke blinked. For the first time in his life, he was stumped. His mother was only just now pulling away from him, watching him with tears still in her eyes, and she didn’t hate him. In fact, she wouldn’t let go of his hand, even as the man Luke knew to be Paul Callahan drew her into the crook of his arm and kissed her on the forehead.
What the hell was happening?
“Luke,” she said again.
“I didn’t think you’d want me here,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected any of this.
And his mom was starting to cry again, which was unacceptable. He hated to see her cry. Always had. But the only way he’d ever known how to protect her was with his fists and his chin. This was different. He didn’t know how to protect her from whatever this was.
“Mom?” he said.
She cried harder.
“Mom, whatever it is, I’ll take care of it,” he said. “I swear to you, I’ll fix it.”
But his mom shook her head, crying even harder. “I don’t deserve
that,” she said.
“Don’t talk about yourself that way,” Luke said automatically.
He’d always hated to hear her blame herself for everything.
“But I don’t, Luke,” she said. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, for how I treated you. For how I took it all out on you. For what I put you through.”
Watching his mother beat up on herself was too much. Luke had come here expecting to be met with the old anger, and he would have known how to deal with that. But this…
Out of instinct he looked at the man who had his arm around his mother, and what he saw there stopped him short.
Love. That man was looking at his mother like he loved her. And like wanted to protect her, too. Like his mother finally had a shot at real happiness.
Luke snapped out of it. He would do whatever he needed to.
“Yes, you do,” he said, and as he said the words, he realized he believed them with all his heart. “Everyone deserves forgiveness, Mom. You did the best you could. And I love you.”
Luke felt Charlene’s smile at that moment. He felt it before he saw it, and he felt it deep in his bones.
That didn’t make it any less beautiful when he finally looked at her.
Heat pricked at Charlene’s eyes. She almost couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She knew genuine happy endings didn’t often happen in real life, but this looked pretty damn close.
In fact, this looked like the happiest ending. Luke’s mom kept looking at her son like she couldn’t believe he was standing there, like she had so much time to make up for. And Charlene knew that whatever Luke was feeling, it was going to be complicated.
But when he looked at her, it all seemed suddenly simple. That look held her. It rooted her, right where she stood. And it made the kind of promise she’d only just begun to hope for.
But then Bella noticed Luke wasn’t alone. She straightened her hair with fluttering fingers, and smiled wryly up at Charlene.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry, honey. I’m Bella Logan. And you are…?” There was a hopeful lilt to the question.
Charlene was caught tongue-tied. She’d gotten so used to watching and taking in the breathtaking scene, she sort of forgot she was there.
But Luke wasn’t. He jumped right in, and the note of pride in his voice was unmistakable.
“This is Charlene Bastien,” he said. His eyes raked down Charlene’s body, searing every inch of her. “She’s my date to your wedding…if we can come.”
Bella started crying again. “Yes. Of course you can, yes.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Luke had kept looking between his mom and Charlene, not believing his goddamn luck on either count. And if it hadn’t been for Rosie coming out to shoo them all inside, they probably would have stood out there staring at each other forever.
Damn, he’d missed his sister.
She looked older than the last time they’d visited over some holiday or another in years past. Not bad. Just older. Kids had that effect on a person.
“Where are the rug rats?” he’d asked.
“At their father’s until tomorrow,” she’d explained, and laughed when Luke didn’t hide his disappointment. “It’s his weekend, and he promised to take them to the waterpark. But they are so excited to be flower girls, so don’t worry, we’ll get them back for the ceremony.”
That was a first, as far as Luke knew. Rosie hadn’t wanted anything to do with his mother’s previous marriages, though she’d tried to be supportive.
His mom was practically beaming. Hell, she looked decades younger. Healthier.
And with a guy at her side that Luke didn’t want to punch.
Paul Callahan.
A guy who even Diego hadn’t been able to dig up dirt on. A guy who looked like a totally normal human being, and who hadn’t been in prison, or even arrested. He didn’t smell like whiskey or tobacco. When Luke shook his hand, he’d caught wind of nothing but a firm grip and a whiff of some kind of cologne with a ship on the bottle.
“We met at church,” Paul was explaining to Charlene while they all milled about in the living room. She listened raptly. “It was during this summer brunch—”
“Easter,” Bella said. “Easter brunch last year.” She dotted at her eyes with a tissue. She wasn’t crying as loudly, but she was still crying. Some of that flush on her cheeks was excitement too.
Yeah, his mom had changed, all right. Luke had been sharing a room with her for ten whole minutes and she hadn’t freaked out yet. She could even bring herself to look at her son without all that pain in her face.
In fact, she’d barely stopped looking at him.
Paul snapped his fingers. “Easter. That’s right. You were wearing that yellow dress.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled when he smiled. “And the bunny earrings.”
Luke knew that look in Paul’s eyes. It was the same look he got when he was thinking about Charlene.
“Church,” Luke echoed in a monotone.
“I got lucky,” his mother said, and smiled a little shyly. “Besides, those church breakfasts are less wholesome than they sound.”
“The bunny earrings were a little saucy,” Paul said, his eyes sparkling.
And his mom smiled in a way he’d never seen before. In fact, Luke realized he didn’t know if he’d ever seen his mother truly happy. Always afraid, or angry, with him especially. Never just at peace. Maybe Paul really did make her better. Or maybe meeting Paul had given his mom the kick in the butt she needed to deal with her baggage.
Luke sure as hell knew what that felt like.
He turned to Charlene, but she was already looking at him. And smiling.
“Hey, don’t monopolize your date,” Rosie said as she swept back in from the kitchen, this time carrying a tray of cookies. “I want to hear all about you, Charlene.”
“Only if I can steal some of those cookies,” Charlene said, still smiling.
“Oh my gosh, you two must be starving,” his mom said. She looked at Luke again, and that shy smile came back. “Rosie, honey, do you think I could use your kitchen?”
“Mom, we’re fine,” Luke said, grinning for the first time. “Really.”
“I could still make you some eggs,” Bella said. “The way you liked them? Just to tide you over?”
He didn’t even get a chance to respond.
“Don’t you dare tell your mother she can’t cook for you,” Charlene said.
Luke looked at her, surprised. That was forceful, for a sub. And was definitely not up for debate unless he wanted an earful later.
But his mom smiled. “I like her,” she said.
Charlene and Rosie laughed, like they already shared some special language, and Paul just shrugged. Luke was clearly outnumbered, and that was fine. He couldn’t take his eyes off Charlene anyway.
This moment would have been different without her. Hell, without Charlene, it never would have happened, and he’d never have gotten to see the relief in his mother’s eyes. He could never thank her enough for that.
But he could damn well try.
“You’ve convinced me,” he said, standing up, his eyes locked on the woman who’d changed everything. “Let me show Charlene around.”
Luke watched Charlene carefully as he showed her around the old house. It hadn’t changed much. Rosie had moved in when she’d split from her ex, and Bella had moved into a new place with her last husband, who’d turned out to be a crook. His sister had taken good care of the place. Luke had come back to replace the roof and do the heavy lifting, but Rosie had been the one keeping the garden, dusting the windows, touching up the paint. It looked just like the place he’d grown up.
But he was seeing it with new eyes now. Because in the middle of it all, there was Charlene.
He’d been braced for the visit to dredge up old pains and make new ones. He wasn’t braced to see his past spread in front of him and feel…baffled.
“I came here hoping she would forgive me,” he said
out loud. “I never thought I’d get it.”
Charlene looked at him suddenly. They were alone out in the back yard, just as the sun was setting, with their backs to the spot where it had all happened. She didn’t know that, but Luke could feel it behind him, like standing next to a roaring fire that only he could see.
Inside they could see everyone else preparing a meal—his mom cooking, Rosie setting the table. Paul was stringing up lights while chatting with them, comfortable in the setting. It wasn’t his first visit. It wouldn’t be his last. They were an island of warm hues, all red-checkered tablecloths and sangria, in a sea of evening-tinted hills rolling into the distance.
And in the dimming light, Charlene glowed in the colors of Texas sunset. It rimmed her hair and lined the soft edge of her face. Her eyes were so much brighter like that. Or maybe she’d just been thinking about what he’d said.
“Everyone deserves forgiveness,” she said quietly. “Especially people who never did anything wrong in the first place. Especially people who fight for those of us who can’t. Especially you.”
The truth of it was lodged in his throat like a rock.
And then Charlene touched his hand.
The first time they’d deliberately touched since he’d let her go. The first time he’d felt that fire coursing through him again, the first time he’d felt that magnetism. The first time he’d felt his whole heart. He looked her in the eye, and took her hand in his.
He was a damn lucky man. And he was going to stop taking that for granted.
“My father was a violent, drunk son of a bitch,” Luke said, his voice even and clear. “But he only ever hit me. I made damn sure of that.”
Christ, he couldn’t believe he was saying these words. He’d never said them to anyone. Not even to himself.
“Every time he looked at my mom or sister, I distracted him. It wasn’t hard. He was like a dumb animal when he got mean.”
Charlene’s fingers tightened on his. It anchored him.
“That was when I started smoking,” he said, “Cover up the smell, get out of the house… Anyway. One day I had enough and I stood up to him. And then when he tried to turn on my mom, I beat the ever-loving shit out of my own father.”
