Sweetest Mistake (Nolan Brothers #2)

by Amy Olle

“He was weak,” Luke said.

  “You think you’re weak?”

  “I—” Luke swallowed back bile. “I killed a kid.”

  Noah’s beat of silence blared like a foghorn. “What happened?”

  “School shooting. He trapped them in the lunchroom. Started picking them off as they ran. At the first clear shot, I took him out.”

  “That’s nothing like Dad.” Noah was shaking his head. “Not the same thing at all.”

  “I’d do it again.” The blood in Luke’s veins turned to ice. “In a heartbeat. For her. If someone hurt her, or tried to, I’d kill them. I’d do it gladly, and then I’d dance on their fucking grave.”

  Rather than recoil, Noah’s expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t think that makes you like him.”

  Probably not. It made him a thousand times worse.

  “You’re a protector. A shield. Dad wasn’t a shield.” Noah’s tone hardened. “You’re right, he was weak. Too weak to be a shield. All he knew was how to lash out and strike. He was a sword. The difference between you two is night and day, right and wrong.”

  “The end result is the same.”

  “What’s the end result?”

  “I’ve tried to politely self-destruct, but it’s not working.” Luke shoved a hand through his hair. “Either I’m going to take her down with me or—” He bit back the words.

  “Or what?”

  Bile rose in his throat. “She’ll leave me.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that. Not yet. Look, the way I see it, you have a choice—”

  “What choice?” His voice pitched high with his anger. “Leave her?”

  “No, of course not. There are people who can help—”

  A growl of frustration tore from Luke. “I’ve tried it. It didn’t work. The weakness… it’s a part of me.”

  “Luke, listen to me. You are not Daniel. In fact, I don’t think you could be more unlike him. You’re the peacemaker. Like Mom.”

  “You didn’t live with him.”

  “I did.” Steel wrapped around Noah’s statement. “I was his favorite punching bag, remember?”

  “But then you left, and Shea moved out to get his own place. Jack went to live with the Thompsons. It was just Leo and me, and we’re both exactly like him.”

  Noah’s silence was damning.

  “You saw it, too.” Luke’s voice shook. “With Leo. You know I’m right.”

  “Let’s take care of you before we move on to deal with Leo.”

  “Don’t you get it, there’s nothing to deal with. We can’t be fixed.”

  “That’s not how it works. You’re soldiers, fighters, and with fighters, there’s always a chance.”

  Luke tried to focus on one of the Noah’s sitting beside him. “How do you know so much about it? You work with soldiers overseas or something?”

  A pensive quiet overcame his brother, until finally, he said, “I married one.”

  From there, Luke’s world faded to black. He recalled glimpses of the ride home, snippets of conversation with Noah.

  Then he was at the inn, pinned beneath huge brown eyes.

  “Wh-what happened?”

  He fell into a chair at the table. “Nothing.”

  “You’re bleeding.” Her fingers brushed the corner of his mouth. “Someone hit you?”

  He jerked his head back. “Stop it. I’m fine.”

  She recoiled at the sharp bite in his tone. He wanted to pursue her, soothe her, but he didn’t.

  “You should just tell her.” Noah settled in a chair with a bag of chips. “Save yourself the grief.”

  Luke groaned. “Get out.”

  “He got into a fight at the pub.” Noah crunched happily.

  “The pub? I thought you w-were working tonight.”

  “It was quiet. I got out a little early.” He glared at his brother. “You told on me?”

  “What, are we seven?” Noah turned to Emily. “He got in a fight with another cop. Weird fraternity of brothers thing.”

  Her soft gasp landed as a brutal gash on Luke’s heart. “Which cop? Wh-why?”

  Noah frowned. “Didn’t catch his name. Unless it was pissant or cocksucker.”

  “Noah, go home.”

  “All right, I’m going.” Noah scooped up his chips and pushed to his feet. “Talk to your wife, man.”

  Then Noah was gone and Emily stood before him. She pressed a warm washcloth to his lip.

  “Are you sure y-you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. I drank too much and let Sloane get to me. The guy’s been a thorn in my side for months now and it just sort of built up.”

  “It’s not like you to get into a fight.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a complicated man.” He was a broken man, and he didn’t know how to fit the pieces of himself back together again.

  He lurched to his feet. “I’m going to grab a shower and crash.”

  On unsteady legs, he staggered toward the suite and twisted the doorknob. The dread clamped like a vise around his chest cavity when he closed the door behind him, shutting her out.

  Luke woke with a fierce headache and a raging attack of conscience.

  Beside him, the bed was empty. With a groan, he left the sanctuary of slumber. In need of a jolt, he pulled his blue jeans on over his boxers and trudged to the kitchen. The carafe was missing from its perch in the coffeemaker, so he shuffled into the dining room, and at the buffet, filled a mug with steaming coffee.

  Voices carried to him from the foyer.

  “It’s so peaceful here.” He didn’t recognize the woman’s voice.

  “It is.” Mina said. “I’m so excited about this idea.”

  He scratched the scruff on his cheek and wandered closer.

  A waiflike woman with brown hair stood beside Mina beneath the crystal chandelier. “I’m not sure which is more beautiful, the property, or the house itself. It’s the perfect place to heal after a trauma.”

  Luke froze. His sluggish brain grappled with the meaning of their words.

  “I can’t believe you renovated this place all by yourself,” the waif said.

  Mina smiled. “I had help. My cousin helped with the decorating. She owns the house now and runs the inn.”

  Max bounded down the stairs and swept past them on his way into the dining room. He grunted at Luke when he passed by.

  Mina noticed him then. “I didn’t hear you come in. Luke, this is Chloe Smallwood. She’s a counselor. Her office is downtown, not far from the station. Chloe, this is Luke.”

  That was all she said by way of his introduction, as if the counselor already knew exactly who he was.

  His mind raced with panicked thoughts. This had Noah written all over it. He’d told his brother too much and the bastard had manufactured an opportunity to get a head shrink in front of Luke as quickly as possible.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Chloe held out her tiny hand to him.

  He folded his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?”

  “Uh, I was just showing her the house,” Mina said.

  “She’s seen it.”

  Both women stilled.

  An apple in hand, Max appeared at Luke’s side. “Everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fucking fine.” Luke’s muscles bunched.

  “Chloe’s interested in reserving the house for an event.” A slight tremble tinged Mina’s voice.

  “What kind of an event?”

  Max crunched into the apple, the noise like the crack of a firework exploding.

  The counselor’s mouth was moving. “I want to establish a retreat program for persons suffering post-traumatic stress disorder and other trauma-related disruptions.”

  Her words embedded like a sliver under his skin. “Is that right?”

  Mina’s nervous gaze darted between him and Chloe. “She’s created a program based on texts written thousands of years ago describing treatments for ancient warriors returning from battle. Cool, huh?”
>
  “We’re not interested.”

  He didn’t understand what was happening to him, or why panic roared through him. All he knew was that he wanted the counselor and her damn knowing eyes gone.

  “Since when did you take over event booking, too?” Max wanted to know.

  Hectic color stained Mina’s cheeks. “When I mentioned it to Emily, she was excited about the idea.”

  Luke pushed into Chloe’s space. “It’s time for you to leave. Now.”

  The color drained from her tiny face.

  Max slid between them. “Why don’t I show her the way out?” His features carefully blanked, he held Luke’s gaze. “Would that be all right?”

  Luke gave him a curt nod.

  Max placed a protective hand on the small of Chloe’s back and they disappeared through the front door.

  Luke sensed Mina’s huge, shock-filled eyes on him. A wave of shame and regret stole his breath and nearly dropped him to his knees.

  Without another word, he strode from the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Winter hit the island hard. Snow fell from the sky in a relentless onslaught and the churning waters of the lake calmed, crept, and finally froze. By mid-February, ice shrouded the harbor and coastline, and a bone-deep chill had settled in Emily’s body.

  Wrapped in the quilt from her bed, she sat at the kitchen table and stared unseeing into her coffee. At her elbow sat an invitation from Max to the premiere of his movie. It’d debuted at a film festival in Traverse City the day before, but she hadn’t attended.

  At four months pregnant, her belly had begun to show and she couldn’t imagine a dress that wouldn’t make her look like a bright-haired whale. Not to mention, as the lake iced over, the ferry had begun to run infrequently and she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to get off the island.

  Mainly, she didn’t have the heart for going.

  Loneliness gnawed at her as Luke continued to withdraw, and a tender wound had formed on her heart. Her only solace, and it wasn’t much of one, was the fact that by now she’d been married to Luke twice as long as Natalie had.

  A noise sounded at the back door and a moment later Mina floated into the room.

  “Hey, Em, what’s up?” At the table, she flipped open the box from the bakery. “Are there any glazed ones in here?”

  The tears that came too often with too little to provoke them threatened.

  Mina abandoned the box and sank into a chair. “What is it? Did I say something?”

  Emily shook her head. “It’s Luke, he’s… he’s m-m-miserable.”

  Mina didn’t disagree. “Maybe it’s stress at work. His job must be hard.”

  Emily nodded. “I’ve tried talking to him about that, but he shuts m-me out. Even before the wedding…” Her fears rose up to consume her. “Wh-what if it isn’t work? Wh-what if he didn’t want to m-marry me?”

  Mina shook her head. “No way. Luke isn’t about to do something he doesn’t want to do. Not without a gun pointed to his head.”

  Emily blanched.

  Mina’s eyes grew wide with panic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean the baby…”

  When Emily spoke, her voice barely rose above a whisper. “You know?”

  “I know. Small town and all that.” Mina’s eyes shimmered. “Why didn’t you tell me?” A twinge of hurt threaded her tone.

  “I wanted to, but… I didn’t want to hurt you… after…”

  Mina’s throat worked. “After I miscarried. I understand. I do.”

  “I’m s-sorry, Mina. For everything.”

  “Me, too.” Mina squeezed her arm.

  Their misery hung heavy in the room. Emily’s heart ached to see the anguish on her cousin’s face. She didn’t know any words to take away Mina’s pain, but she wished to make her understand, at least, that she hadn’t shut her out to be cruel.

  “I was afraid if I told y-y-you the truth, then I’d be forced to think about why I was marrying Luke.” Emily’s voice wavered and she cleared her throat. “And if I thought too m-much about it, I’d have to admit the p-pregnancy was the only reason he p-proposed, and I was so desperate and scared and lonely, I let myself believe his p-proposal was real.”

  Mina lifted her shoulders. “He’s a guy. Maybe he doesn’t show it, but he cares about you, Em. I can see that he does.”

  Emily sniffled and nodded, wanting with all her heart to believe Mina’s words.

  A determined frown came over Mina’s face. “We’re married to brothers and that makes us sisters. We have to promise each other, no matter what, we’ll be there for each other to talk, or listen, or plot revenge. Whatever is necessary.”

  Her words plucked Emily like a tuning fork and startled a laugh from her.

  Since her mom became ill, she’d had no one with which she’d shared her inner world. Not her heart or her fears. Nothing of her true self. Even before that, her social phobias caused her to hold herself back, keeping people away so that they couldn’t hurt her. If they didn’t know her, the real her, they couldn’t reject her.

  Harrison’s cruelty had changed her at the core and made her suspect she lacked some essential quality, which made her unlovable. So she made sure no one ever got close enough to confirm her fear one way or the other.

  She’d moved to the island because she craved a connection with Mina. Along the way, she’d collected a husband and a baby. But how could any of them come to love her if she never let them know her?

  The real her.

  Though she’d thought so at one time, she now knew Luke wasn’t without insecurities. Maybe he was afraid of opening up to her. Maybe, if she opened her heart to him, he’d do the same, and then he’d begin to trust her with his worries. Maybe, if he knew she loved him, he’d open his heart to her. Maybe her love would help him conquer whatever demons chased him.

  Maybe it’d make him happy.

  And maybe, just maybe, he’d love her back.

  An urgency she couldn’t explain gripped her. She pushed to her feet. “I have to go.”

  Mina looked up at her. “Right now?”

  “I have to find Luke. There’s s-something I have to tell him.”

  She couldn’t wait a single moment more to tell him what was in her heart, not when he was hurting and it might give him some comfort.

  She didn’t notice the wrinkle of worry creasing Mina’s brow.

  Three hours later, frustration eroded her fantasy of rescuing him. He wouldn’t answer her texts, or pick up her call when she did the previously unthinkable and phoned him.

  She had to find him right away. But how?

  Her spine snapped straight when a thought struck.

  Emily crawled down Main Street in the sedan, her fifth pass through downtown in the last hour. As she approached the traffic light, it switched to yellow and she slowed the car to a stop. Craning her neck, she peered down the side streets in search of his SUV. Dejected, she slung back in her seat.

  That’s when she saw him, pulling up to the stoplight opposite her.

  Her heart tripped into an erratic rhythm.

  She used to pray for courage. When kids teased her, or her teachers grew frustrated with what they viewed as laziness or defiance, she’d imagined saying bold things. Something clever and quick to knock them back or prove their assumptions wrong.

  When her mom grew sick and the doctors kept saying there was nothing they could do, Emily prayed for the courage to fight them. To demand they not give up on Audrey. On them.

  She hadn’t found the strength to be brave then, but this time would be different. No matter how difficult, she’d find a way. For him.

  The light flicked to green, but she stayed with her foot on the brake pedal while Luke and two more cars progressed through the intersection. Behind her, a car horn blared.

  Chewing her bottom lip, she eased the Jetta forward, then whipped the steering wheel hard to the left and executed a U-turn beneath the traffic light.

  The sedan following her rocked to
a jerky stop. More horns blared. Emily ignored the over-permed, gray-haired woman flipping her the bird as she passed by and pressed down on the gas pedal with steady pressure until she caught up with Luke’s SUV.

  She continued to push down on the accelerator, nudging the nose of her car as close to his rear bumper as she dared. His head bobbled back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror. He lifted a hand, as if in question.

  With a hard stomp on the accelerator, she swallowed her fear and swung the car out into the passing lane. She breezed by him, topping out at forty-two miles per hour.

  Seventeen miles per hour over the posted legal limit.

  A stop sign came into view and she slowed, but clearly did not come to a complete stop, before turning right onto Lakeshore Drive. In her rearview, he stopped at the sign, and paused, as if contemplating whether to follow.

  She couldn’t give him the option not to.

  She punched the accelerator. The Jetta’s engine whimpered and the car lurched forward on the winding coastal drive.

  He pursued.

  She had him right where she wanted him. Her sole focus shifted to the upcoming turn. At the last possible moment, she cranked the steering wheel hard and—without indicating her intention with the car’s turn signal—whipped into her driveway.

  In front of the house, she threw the car in park and scrambled out from behind the wheel.

  His SUV ambled up the long, winding drive until finally he rolled to a stop beside her. A pair of mirrored sunglasses masked his gaze and the white stick of a lollipop dangled from his lips.

  With a soft electric whir, he lowered the window. “What are you doing?”

  She swallowed the lump of terror that rose up to clog her throat.

  You’re a piranha.

  The memory twisted.

  He’d touched more than her body. He’d stolen so many of her fears and disappointments. Destroyed her misconceptions about herself. No matter what happened between them, she’d be eternally grateful to him for that.

  With her nervous hesitation, he shot from the car. He yanked the sunglasses off his face and green eyes knocked into her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I-I-I-I love y-you.” The words burst from her to hang in the air between them.