I fought Luke’s hold on me.
Stronger than me, in every sense of the word, he held me firm. “Don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, just don’t. You’ll only make things worse for everyone.”
“I don’t care about everyone.”
“I know you don’t. But I’m asking you not to go after that bastard right now, okay? I need you with me at least until Mia gets here.”
“She doesn’t care about everyone either.”
“I know that too, I’m just asking you to stay with me.”
I was missing something. Luke was a bad liar, and he wielded deflection better than anyone I’d ever known. But he had eyes that spoke only truth, and as he stared me down, something settled in my chest. I had no fucking clue what was going on, but trust bloomed like an errant thought did on my most anxious days. It pollinated and sprouted roots, and I found myself nodding, despite the fight still alive and well in my gut. “What are you, like, hypnotising me or something?”
Luke’s frown deepened. “What?”
“Never mind. I’ll stay, all right? But I still want to burn that prick’s house down.”
“Tell you what, if you feel that way by tonight, I’ll give you the fucking matches.”
Definitely missing something. But I let it go. I was out of practice at getting lairy with people, and the comedown was leaving me dizzy. Sharp edges felt blunt.
Luke sat me in the back of the van and disappeared. He came back with the T-shirt I’d used to wrap around my hand when I’d smashed the car window, and shook the glass from it. It was splattered with blood but otherwise had survived.
I claimed it and shrugged it on.
Luke shook his head. “How’d you manage that without smearing blood everywhere?”
“Blood?” I followed his gaze to my knuckles. They weren’t badly cut, but sticky blood was oozing from the scrapes and nicks. “Oh. I didn’t notice. That’s what you meant by cleaned up, huh?”
“No, that’s what I meant by ‘you’re bleeding.’” Luke climbed over me and rummaged around in the van. He turned up a first aid kit and returned to do his best Florence Nightingale impression.
He dabbed my knuckles with an antiseptic wipe, while I watched, morbidly fascinated by the sight of my own blood. I’d always been a weirdo like that. For years I’d told anyone close enough to listen that I enjoyed pain. Then I’d fallen off a garage roof and smashed my shoulder to bits, and spent the next six months eating my words.
A shudder passed through me. Out of habit, I looked for Gus to comfort me, but he wasn’t there. In fact, I hadn’t seen him since he’d pressed a bottle of water into my hands to put over Jessie’s back. “Where’d Gus go?”
Luke kept his steady gaze on my knuckles. “I don’t know. Back to work, maybe? Mia’s deliveries are stacked today.”
I knew that. It was why I was spending my Saturday up to my elbows in petals and grief, but it didn’t explain his fleeting appearance at the fair. I’d assumed he was done. Where the hell had he gone? “Maybe he went to get lunch. He seemed pretty hangry back there.”
“He does get emotional when he skips a snack.”
“What’s your excuse?”
“Same as yours, brother. I’m an arsehole.”
I’d called Luke worse many, many times, but I’d never meant it. Or at least, he was the sweetest, kindest arsehole I’d ever met.
I let him finish cleaning my hands, then I gave him a hug that seemed to take his breath away. I squeezed him hard. Cos that’s what you were supposed to do with people you loved. Hold them tight, and never let them go.