All This Time

by Stacy Lane

I check my phone briefly when Luke’s mumbled speech travels back his room. Not thinking much of it, I don’t pay attention to what’s being said.

  There’s no missed calls or texts from Della. It’s two in the morning so I find relief in that. Setting my phone aside, I lay down. Curiosity keeps my eyes peeled on the door. Waiting for Luke to return. To send whomever knocked on his door this late away.

  But it’s two in the morning. On Friday night. Curiosity wins out.

  Could he have a woman, a former “lady-friend” knocking for a booty call?

  Della mentioned—on purpose, I have no doubt—that the women in town weren’t easily convinced Luke is off the market.

  Uncurling from the comfort of Luke’s bed, I use the flashlight on my phone to search for any article of clothing to cover up my nakedness. I may be curious, but flashing my goods is not what I am aiming for. Show a little leg, wearing nothing but Luke’s shirt, however, should get the point across.

  Spinning—naked—in a circle comes up empty on finding even one thing to cover with besides the sheets. Luke is remarkably tidy. Not one piece of clothing or even a shoe lay around his room. I walk over to the dresser I found the hoodie in earlier. The top drawer had shirts.

  I slip a t-shirt on, the end falling to mid-thigh. The dresser sits close to the door. As I pull my arms through the sleeves, I hear Luke’s raised voice clearer than before. It carries a hint of anger.

  On light feet I step into the hallway, stopping at the end to peek around the corner. A clear view into the living room, Luke’s body blocks the doorway and our unexpected guest. Then again, I don’t need to see when my ears catch the voice blaring in the silence of a dark night.

  I only consider retreating back to Luke’s room seconds before I’m stepping out from the hallway.

  Crossing arms over my chest in defiance, I lean a shoulder against the nearest wall. With his back to me, Luke hasn’t noticed my presence. The living room up front remains fairly empty—only a single couch—allowing Brady’s rude, slurring tone to echo in the hollowed space.

  “Call a cab,” Luke says to him.

  “Fuck that. Let me in.”

  “I’m not doing this again, Brady. Call a cab, an Uber, I don’t care what, just go home.”

  “I left my keys at the bar. Can’t get in without my keys.”

  “Take mine then.”

  “Luke, it’s late and I’m about to pass out. Let me crash here and I’ll go home in the morning.”

  “I know how fucking late it is,” Luke sneers. “You woke me up from a fantastic sleep.”

  Brady attempts to shove his way inside. Luke’s body is pushed back enough that I have a straight shot at Brady’s belligerent, drunk ass. He can’t gain on Luke, but that gap was all he needed for his bleary eyes to land on me at the far side of the living room.

  The porch light shines down on his bloodshot gaze. He juts out his chin, and says, “Now I know why you won’t let me in. Great sleep after a great lay.”

  Luke’s back stiffens at the cheap shot from his brother.

  Brady’s a jerk on a regular day. An inebriated Brady is an utter prick.

  “Call a cab.” Luke snaps, stepping back and throwing the door shut in Brady’s face.

  I remain immobile. Pissed at Brady for ruining our lovely night, and upsetting Luke. There’s no telling how often he does this sort of thing to him. Showing up drunk with a new excuse every time he does it. And because Luke can’t turn off the love he has for his brother, he probably let’s him in every single time.

  If it wasn’t for me being here, he’d have let him in.

  After the way Brady spoke to Luke, I should feel vindicated he chose me over him. But I don’t. The way I know Luke, protective and loyal no matter the cause, I also know shutting that door figuratively and literally in Brady’s face hurts a part of him. As much as I detest the man who is the father of my child for my own reasons, I can’t allow Luke to hurt himself to appease me.

  He asked for compromises, and this is one of mine.

  “Let him in.”

  He turns his profile to me. With a lightning fast reply, he says, “Absolutely not. He can pull his bullshit on me anytime, except when you are here.”

  “Luke, it’s late and he’s plastered. He probably won’t call a cab, which means he’ll try to walk home. In the dark. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to him.”

  Facing me full on, he argues, “He’s jealous I’m with you. And he’ll say anything to get under my skin.”

  “I know he is. He made that clear to me at Bri’s party.”

  “What did he do?” his brows crease over his dark eyes.

  “Tried telling me you and I together wasn’t right for Brielle. That for her, I should give him another shot.” Luke features morph into rage as he spins back to the door. I run across the room, pulling him to look at me and not the door he was going to tear out of. “None of that matters. But letting him see you pick sides with me will only make this worse.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Yes, you do.” Lifting my hands, I hold his stare when he tries to turn away again. “He’s Brady. He’s good at pissing people off. But he’s still your brother. You still see redemption in him, don’t you?”

  He sighs.

  “I thought I would have wanted you picking me over him, but I can’t be the reason you shun your only family.”

  “He’s doing this to himself, not you. And you are my family, too. You and Brielle. He has to learn his priorities are trying to connect with his daughter, and staying drunk all the time or acting like a jealous ex isn’t going to magically fix his problems.”

  “Neither is sending him off in the middle of the night when he could get hurt.”

  I smile for support, even though, I’m a little disturbed to be sleeping under the same roof as Brady.

  “It’s on you if he leaves here with a broken nose in the morning.”

  “I said let him in to keep him safe from the streets. Won’t hurt my feelings if you break his nose.”

  Luke laughs, laying a kiss down on my forehead. “I love you.”

  Yeah, that’s not getting old any time soon.

  Turning the knob on the front door, we find Brady sitting on the porch steps hanging his head between his legs, and his shoulder on the railing holding him up. I can’t tell if he’s passed out, or going to be sick.

  “Get inside,” Luke says to him. Brady lifts his head. “Sleep it off, but you’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

  Brady stands. I leave Luke to see him safely inside, walking through the house to get back to Luke’s room. Before I make it to the hallway, Brady’s crude behavior strikes again.

  “Looks like Liv came to town and gave you good time, little bro.”

  Lights are dimmed low, but there’s enough glow to recognize what the lacy pieces flung around the middle of the house are.

  I face him, showing I won’t cower from his tasteless remarks.

  His shameless stare takes in what little clothing I’m wearing, and trails downs my body at leisure pace.

  “Hey,” Luke snaps, and waits for Brady to turn his gaze on him. “Don’t look at Liv like that ever again.”

  It’s a potent warning, and with it already being established Brady’s an idiot, the next words out of his mouth prove how likely it is that he will be going home with that broken nose.

  “Even if I can’t look, I’m familiar with what’s underneath that shirt anyway,” he sneers.

  Luke loses it. He moves so fast that by the time I’ve gasped a breath from his quick jolt, he already has Brady flying towards the wall fists balled in his shirt.

  Right up in his face, Luke snarls through clenched teeth. “You may be my brother, but that won’t matter if you disrespect her again.”

  “Chill, little brother. I’m only joking.”

  “Then take this as your warning. I don’t find it funny, and never will.”

  Brady glares, making it obv
ious he doesn’t see the joke in this anymore. “If my daughter wasn’t involved in all of this, I would be more offended at you picking a chick over me.”

  It pisses me off Brady tries to use my daughter as a excuse for his attitude.

  “Where is she anyway?” he asks when Luke releases him.

  “Not here.”

  “It’s a good thing, too. Not sure being drunk is a great impression on her,” I add.

  “I used to like it when your bitchy side came out,” he sneers, straightening his shirt. “It was hot. Now I only see the bitch.”

  Luke takes a step back toward him. He had just made it to my side, too. I stop him with a hand on his stomach.

  “This isn’t me being a bitch. This is me being a protective mom. I’m willing to be as civil as I possibly can to you for Luke and Brielle’s sake, but the moment you hurt her or let her down—and let’s be clear, I have no faith in you—I will be the biggest bitch you have ever seen. That’s the one person in my life you don’t fuck with.”

  Brady fumes, but doesn’t speak out of turn again. At least, not when it involves Brielle.

  “You really think you and Luke are going to last?” Brady swipes his point finger back and forth at us. “There’s too much history, too much baggage for the two of you to make it. And then there’s Della who likes to come between everybody. She’s been working on separating my brother from me for years.”

  “You’re doing that all on your own, Brady. Don’t bring other people who aren’t here to defend themselves in this.”

  My eyes lower, jaw ticking.

  “I’m going to bed,” I say to Luke, turning away.

  “I’ll be there in minute. Gonna lock up.”

  I nod.

  “‘Night, Liv,” Brady’s voice crawls along my skin with the same appeal as a spider sneaking beneath the sheets of your bed in the dead of night.

  I say nothing in return, and keep heading to Luke’s bedroom.

  Already under the blankets when Luke walks in, he takes off the shorts he put on, folding and setting them on a chair in the corner.

  He joins me under the covers, my mind elsewhere with Brady’s final parting.

  Luke rolls to his side, pulling me against him. Apologizing for Brady’s unwanted appearance. And for anything else he’s said that may have upset me.

  For the first time, sleep doesn’t come easy when pressed warmly next to Luke. I place blame on all the baggage Brady reminded me of.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  “Are you trying to sneak out?” Luke’s groggy voice slices through the quiet room.

  “Um.” I bite my lip, standing beside the bed with a blank expression. “Yes.”

  He stares at me, mirroring the same look minus the lip bitting.

  It should be obvious by now that I am not pulling the embarrassing morning after stunt. This far in to our relationship would not be embarrassing, but just plain wrong. Yet I am trying to sneak out.

  If Luke’s face did not portray enmity it would be too tempting to even try to keep leaving. His tan chest on full display in the morning sunlight. The navy blue covers riding low on his hips. His thick, messy head of hair propped up on a pillow and turned my way.

  As I admire the view, I bite down on my lip too hard, drawing blood and tasting the tang of iron.

  C’mon. Who woke up looking that good? I’m sure if I were to look in a mirror I would find smudges from my eyeliner and flakes from my mascara darkening my eyes like Jack Sparrow rising to the surface after being thrown overboard.

  I didn’t sleep well all night long. Toss and turned so much even Luke stopped reaching out for me to keep spooning with. And when I woke up from two hours of sleep, at the most, my first thought was of Brady. He ruined my night, and I refused to let him ruin my day.

  “Have you ever snuck out before? Because you’re not very good at it.”

  “No, I haven’t,” I reply with attitude. “There wasn’t much opportunity for one night stands in the last six years.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Luke growls. “Why are you sneaking out?”

  “I thought I’d go get Brielle and go see my dad. Give you time with Brady without me being here. He’s more of ass than usual when you and I are together.”

  “Liv, come back to bed.” Luke runs a hand over his face, scrubbing up and down his morning shadow of a beard.

  I’m really like the look.

  But that’s not the point right now.

  I stay put.

  Luke rises to his elbows. “If you wanted to sneak out why did I catch you standing frozen in the same spot you’re still in?”

  “Because my bag is in my car. Because the only clothes I walked in with are strung all over your kitchen, twenty feet from your stupid brother.”

  I may never have attempted the walk of shame, but I know what it entails. And I have the option to not leave in the same racy clothes I came in with. That’s what I was figuring out when he woke up.

  “My stupid brother is probably passed out and not going to wake up unless I dump a bucket of ice water on him.”

  “Oh, so you want me to sneak out half naked with the hopes that I don’t wake up Brady?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Your brother. The father of my child. The guy you threw against a wall last night for leering at my bare legs.”

  I’m picking a fight, I know, but it’s too early and I had too little sleep and I’m edgy. And dear Lord in heaven this is too much conversation to be had before coffee!

  “Christ, woman,” Luke grumbles, sitting all the way up. The final remnants of sleep have worn off completely. “I don’t want you to sneak out at all. If you wanted to leave so bad then wake me up to go get your things.”

  “That’s what I was trying to figure out when you woke up.”

  “Let me help you then. I’m not going to get your clothes or your bag, so get back in bed.”

  Very. Close. To. Harming. Him.

  “Why would you say to wake you if you weren’t going to actually do it?” I speak slowly, ready to snap.

  “‘Cause,” Luke says, getting out of bed. I’m so agitated his bare butt cheeks do nothing for me. He prowls around the end of the mattress, coming right at me. Welp. Ass didn’t do it, but that dick… It swings low as he crosses the short space. Twitching and growing hard right before my eyes. “I have ways to make you forget about leaving me.”

  Lifting my hot gaze to his, I mutter, “Those ways are not happening with your brother in this house.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he smiles, but it is far from friendly.

  “Luke.” I hold a hand out to stop him. It doesn’t do any good. “I’m serious.”

  I’m seriously going to cave.

  His firm, warm skin presses into my open palm.

  My phone rings.

  Brielle heavy on my mind, I immediately turn from the display of Luke’s glorious body. Giving him my back doesn’t keep him from his priorities, though.

  As I pick up my phone from the night stand and flip it over, Luke sweeps his arms around my middle, tucking my ass comfortably in to his phallic groin. An eager hand slips beneath my shirt.

  “It’s Janice,” I say curiously, and somewhat distracted.

  He doesn’t respond, only begins to nibble on the spot behind my ear.

  Arousal hits me stronger than a shot of adrenaline.

  “Hello,” I answer in a rough edge.

  “Olivia, it’s Janice.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Sorry if I woke you, but I’m at the hospital…with your dad.”

  I stiffen with realization. Luke dropping his hand from where it played between my legs when he heard what Janice said.

  “What happened? Is he okay?” I ask in a hurry.

  “He’s stable. I found him passed out in the kitchen. I wasn’t even scheduled to check in today, but I decided to pop in before driving out to the craft store. Glad I did, because he hit his head pretty hard. Doctors say he has a concussion.”

 
“Okay. I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Alright, dear.”

  We hang up, and I turn to look at Luke.

  “I’m gonna go to the hospital, but I’m not telling Bri. I’ll send Della a text to see if she minds keeping her a little while longer.”

  “Of course she will, babe. Let’s get dressed. I’ll drive you.” He walks to the dresser, pulling out a clean pair of boxers and shorts. “Where’d you leave your keys? I’ll go get your bag.”

  “Luke, you don’t have to go. Brady’s still here and you have to deal with him—”

  “My brother will have one hell of a hangover, but it’s daylight. He can walk his ass home now.”

  Luke steps inside his closest, and I find myself leaning sideways trying to peek inside. It’s huge. He said he was tweaking it this past week, but damn. I lose sight of him since he didn’t bother turning on an inside light.

  He comes back out with his head emerging from a solid white t-shirt he paired with khaki shorts.

  Placing a quick kiss on my lips, he asks, “Keys?”

  I tell him where I placed them in the pocket of my coat last night.

  Not wanting to stand idle, I discard my shirt and hop in the shower to wash my body. When I’m toweling off Luke comes in with my bag. I wash my face with my own products, brush my teeth, and throw on a solid white tee and distressed jean shorts. With a bare face free of makeup, I step out of Luke’s room and walk down to the kitchen, ready to go.

  Luke made a pot of coffee and is filling two tumblers for us to go. Brady sits at the island, hanging his head over a steaming cup.

  “Ready?” I ask when I step out of the hallway.

  “Yep. Want to make sure I got your cream and sugar portions right?”

  “No,” I smile, stepping up beside him, wrapping my hand around his bicep. “It always tastes better when you make it.”

  “That’s your way of getting me to make you a cup every morning isn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” I say as my lips sip the brew through the lid. “Mmm. So good.”

  “I just realized you do that with food too. We’ve had the same meal, but you say mine taste better.”

  “You make everything better,” I shrug.