“What do you think?”
“That’s the thing,” he murmured, pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t know anymore.”
At his age, he should be having fun, swept up in the reckless, joyful chaos that makes youth feel infinite. Instead, he was standing here asking questions no one should ever need to ask. Questions I was no more equipped to answer than he was. Questions that struck far too close to home, dragging up every way I’d failed before.
“I... I need to get back. Thank you for checking on me, but I can’t be out here. If he finds out, he’ll...” He trailed off, but I didn’t need him to finish to hear what came next. He’ll be angry.
“Okay, just...” I reached into my wallet, pulling out a card. “Here. This has my personal cell on it. If you ever need anything, at any time, please call me.”
I held the card out to him, and he stared at it like it was some kind of foreign object. After a moment he took it, scanning the text. To my surprise, he smirked.
“What?” I asked.
“Luke Walker?” He lifted his eyes, one brow arching. “Your name is Luke Walker, and you’re what? Here to rescue me?”
I laughed. “Between you and me, my full name is Luke Skylar Walker.”
Assessing whether I was fucking with him, his eyes narrowed. Pulling out my license, I handed it to him. His mouth dropped as he read the name printed in black ink.
“My parents,” I explained, shaking my head with exasperation and fondness. “Have a warped sense of humor. They thought it’d be hysterical to bestow upon me the name of Luke Skylar with the last name Walker. They claim, and I quote, it was too splendiferous an opportunity to pass up.”
A snort of laughter slipped out of him, lighting up his whole face and softening his eyes. The tension in his shoulders melted and for a second he looked happy, but just as fast, the walls slammed back into place. I hated it. I hated watching something that beautiful get smothered. I wanted to tear those invisible walls down with my bare hands so I could see that smile again.
“Thankfully, I’m not sure anyone would accuse me of being short for a stormtrooper or otherwise. As for rescuing you, I think you have the power to do that yourself. My role is as an accomplice only, if you need it.”
Relief swept through me as he slipped the card into his pocket. Oliver might not ever use it, likely wouldn’t, but I hoped it at least told him he didn’t have to remain trapped. If things got unbearable, he had an out.
“I should go,” he murmured.
“Alright.” I didn’t stop him, and I wouldn’t. I had offered him the choice, placed the power in his hands. As much as I wanted to act, to get him out of what was almost certainly an abusive relationship, the decision to do something with it belonged to Oliver alone.
He reached for the door handle, but before he pulled it open, he turned back to me, his smile tight. His voice, though, carried nothing but sincerity. “Thanks.”
Chapter 3
Oliver
The edges of the card were beginning to soften. I traced the embossed letters of Luke’s name with the tip of my thumb. Every day for a week, since the conversation outside Opal and Obsidian, I found myself reaching for it, smoothing my hands over it like a talisman. It didn’t make sense. Luke didn’t make sense.
When we’d encountered him in the bathroom, he’d come across fairly macho, but then he kept glancing at me during that whole bizarre conversation with Vincent, like he’d been checking my read on things, and when I replayed the interaction I realized he’d never actually agreed with the nasty things Vincent had said. It weirdly seemed like he’d been defending me. Then he’d pulled me aside and spoke to me like I mattered, like he actually saw what was happening and wanted to help, giving me his card. This stupid card I couldn’t seem to put down. I didn’t understand his angle, or him.
Luke didn’t belong in the taxonomy of men I’d navigated my whole life with dread. Men who looked like him—tall, broad, with an imposing presence that could command an entire room—weren’t supposed to be gentle. They weren’t supposed to speak softly, weren’t supposed to look at me like I meant something.
Luke’s dark eyes, which should have been foreboding and threatening, were liquid pools of warm espresso, all melty andsoft. His tone when he spoke carried a warmth infused with something deeply abiding, something achingly rare in my life... kindness.
I kept circling back to the moment I’d made him laugh. The words had slipped out before I could stop them, a spark of dry humor that bypassed the filters I’d spent years building. I’d braced for the usual reprimand and irritation. None came. Instead, Luke had laughed, an honest, real laugh, and the sound had reached out and touched something inside me, something I hadn’t realized still existed. From his laughter, I fleetingly remembered the person who once spoke freely, who didn’t live in anticipation of the next mood swing or the next unexplainable bruise.
Closing my eyes, I lifted the card to my lips. I probably wouldn’t ever find the courage to use it, but holding it in my hands, knowing someone, however briefly, had seen me and had cared, had comforted me, even if it was merely his job...
The click of the door unlocking sent my comfort into hiding. My fingers tightened around the card for a fraction of a second before I slipped it back into my wallet, tucking it into the folds where it would remain hidden. Rolling my shoulders, I got up and made my way to the foyer to greet Vincent.
Checking my phone for the time, the thought left my lips before I could think better of it. “You’re home early.”
The door shut behind Vincent with an ominous finality, and when he turned, his appearance confirmed what my body already feared. His dark eyes narrowed to slits, gleaming with a dangerous fury I knew I could never reason with, only survive. Swallowing hard, I willed my breath to stay steady, my body motionless.
His fist tangled in the fabric of my shirt, jerking me forward before hurling me back into the wall. The force of the impact sucked the air from my lungs in a shocked gasp. He held me inplace, pinned to the wall, his body crowding mine, his breath heavy with the unmistakable stench of stale liquor. “That a problem?”
“No.” The word came out in a nearly inaudible breath.
