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He sits on the couch and remains silent. I raise to my feet and make my way to the kitchen for some Jack Daniels. I don’t drink, usually, but tonight I need it.
I need a friend.
I need Luke.
Grabbing two shot glasses from the cabinet and a bottle of Jack, I pad into the living room and place the whiskey and glasses on the coffee table. I don’t even look at Luke, but I can feel his eyes never leave my body.
I climb the stairs and strip my clothes off, grabbing a clean pair of pajama shorts and a cami to pull on. Pulling my hair on top of my head in a sloppy ponytail, I bounce down the stairs and take a seat beside Luke on the couch.
I grab the whiskey and pour two shots full and then reach him a glass before tossing mine back. The smooth, amber liquid crawls down my throat and warms me all over. I pour myself another shot and another, and what the hell, another. Luke sets his shot glass down, then carefully removes my glass from my hands.
“Whoa, slow it down, honey.”
“Nope. This is how I’m coping tonight. You can join me, or you can leave. Your choice.” I barely recognize my own voice. I literally feel as if I left my heart back about twenty miles up the road. But that’s probably because I did. I reach for the shot glass again, and Luke stops me, wrapping his hand around my wrist, slowly tracing circles over my pulse.
“Beauts, I’ll stay, only because I can tell that you need me tonight. But you gotta talk to me if you want me to stay. I won’t sit here and watch you drink yourself into oblivion unless I know what’s drove ya to drinkin’.” He keeps his strong hand firmly gripped around my wrist and his eyes trained intensely on mine.
“I’m just hurting, is all. I let my guard down and let him back in when I knew I shouldn’t have.” I pinch my eyes shut to hide the tears.
“Weston?”
And with that one word the tears break free. I have no control over them. I try to gain my breath, but it’s wedged between my lungs and my heart, being squeezed lifelessly by the overwhelming emotion built up in my chest. Luke pulls me onto his lap, cradling me to his chest. I cry into Luke’s chest until I can’t cry anymore. I try to get up, but Luke tightens his grip around my waist.
“I need a drink. Hand me my whiskey.”
“Only if you’ll talk. You can’t keep it all bottled up forever, Carly.”
“I know. But it hurts so deep.”
Luke reaches for the whiskey and pours me a shot, then one for him. I crawl from his lap and sit beside him on the couch, placing the bottle of Jack between my thighs. I toss the warm, sour liquid down my throat and begin to tell Luke about all of the pain my heart has endured.
I start from the beginning when Colton broke my heart when I was just seventeen. I tell him about why I left Kentucky, the rape, and the seven years of personal hell I fought through to become the tenacious woman I am today. I tell him about my struggles with coming home, and why I caged my heart from Colton. I tell him how hard I fought to protect my heart, but I let my guard down and let him in. I tell him about the accident that put Colton in the condition he's in and heartbroken.
Luke listens intently, taking shot for shot along with me. He doesn’t interrupt my story; he only consoles me when the emotions get the best of me, and work their way out. When I finally finish drowning my sorrows, Luke tosses back a shot and shakes his head. The more the Jack comforts me, the more I crave it.
“I’m sorry, doll face. When I first saw you in the diner that day, I knew there was somethin’ about you, but I didn’t understand it. But every time I look into your eyes, I feel like I’m lookin’ into a mirror. I realize now you’re just as broken as I am. But here is the difference, beauts. You’re pushin’ away the one man who you know loves you whole-heartedly. Don’t take tomorrow for granted, Carly. I know from experience that tomorrow may never come.”
Luke’s words cut me deep. I knew there was something deep within Luke that gnawed at him, but I never could get him to open up about his pain. We’ve talked several times, but we always find ways to talk around the heartache.
“What happened? What’s your story, Luke?”
Luke leans forward, bracing himself with his elbows on his knees and rests his chin on his fists.
“Beauts, you don’t wanna feel my heartache. You have enough of your own to bare.” I feel his anguish with every word. I scoot closer to him and wrap my arm around his thick bicep, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Luke, please,” I whisper. He leans back against the couch, sighing deeply, before pinching his eyes closed.
“Her name was Alyson. We met just after I moved to Lexington and started with the fire department. She was workin’ and goin’ to school, always dreamed of becomin’ a nurse. Things got heavy fast. Before I knew it we were gettin’ married and expectin’ a baby. I can still remember countin’ his ten tiny toes repeatedly. Sawyer looked just like his momma with dark blond hair and gray eyes. It was just surreal that love could bring somethin’ so perfect into my life. We didn’t always have the best, but as long as we were together, it didn’t matter if we had two dimes to rub together; we were happy.”
Luke pinches the bridge of his nose and balls his hands into fist, gripping them tightly to his thighs. He grabs the bottle of Jack and pulls it to his lips, and then pours the rest of the liquid down his throat in one swift gulp. He shakes his head, then scrubs his face roughly with his hands. When he looks at me, I’m reduced to tears. His eyes speak for the raw emotion that he’s feeling. He pulls me into his lap and rest his head against my shoulder as he tells me the rest of his story.
“I had just got promoted to lieutenant over the engine company and was stayin’ at the fire house more often than I was home. Alyson kept tellin’ me that one of the outlets kept sparkin’ when she would unplug the vacuum, so I told her just to leave it be, and I’d get to it when I could. She would get upset over it, always worried about safety with Sawyer and all. But I assured her it would be fine until I got around to replacin’ the outlet.
“I had to pull a double one night, so I bunked at the firehouse. We got a call for a structural fire at a residence, but I didn’t pay any mind to the address. As we were makin’ our way to the call, the dispatcher called over the radio and requested that our truck be pulled from the rescue and that another truck was en route. I called back to the dispatch and asked why we were bein’ pulled from the rescue. She told me that the battalion chief ordered us back at the firehouse and not to proceed to the rescue. I checked the MDT for the address and sat stock still in utter disbelief. There was no turnin’ back.
“My family’s house was up in flames, and I wasn’t there to pull them to refuge. By the time I arrived at the house, the other crew was on scene, and the police were waitin’ there for me. The flames were too thick to save them.” Luke stifles back a tormented cry.
“I can still hear them, their screams, beggin’ to be saved. I was there, Carly, and I couldn’t save them. I would’ve died there right along with them, but they wouldn’t let me go to them. I may not have physically died that night, but my soul did.” He keeps his face pressed in the crook of my neck, silently releasing his tortured agony. I let him cry, because I don’t think he has ever had this kind of emotional release since experiencing such a tragic loss.
