“Does it feel like anything is broken?” I ask as I release him. He swallows and shakes his head.
There’s a well of anger rising in my chest the farther we move away from the encounter now that I know Luke is all right. My brain won’t stop replaying how carelessly he bargained with his life as if he honestly didn’t care if Frank killed him or not… How disappointed he looked when Frank didn’t follow through.
With shaking hands, I fold up a napkin and gingerly wipe at the blood on Luke’s chin, moving slowly and gently despite the swirling anguish in my chest. Luke stares at the ground apathetically, lost in his own thoughts. When I press the napkin to his wound, he winces and sucks in a hiss of air, his shoulders tensing with the fresh pain.
“That hurts,” he whines.
“Yeah, well,” I snap, harsher than I mean to. “You don’t poke the homicidal maniac with a stick unless you’re looking to get hurt.”
Luke winces at my sharp tone. “I knew he wasn’t going to do it.”
“Well, it seemed pretty fucking convincing to me.”
“You’re angry.” Luke frowns, tilting his head to the side as he regards me likeI’mthe enigma here. As if I’m the one who taunted a psychopath with a knife against my throat. I drag a hand down my face, feeling how I’m still holding so much tension in my shoulders.
“You scared the shit out of me.” I look him in the eye. “Frank’s a wild card. He had aknifeat your….” The word gets lost as the image suddenly chokes me up, as if I’m watching it happen again in real time, a surge of fresh terror spiking through my body.
“I’m sorry,” Luke replies, barely more than a whisper. I can tell he means it. There are tears in his eyes as he looks at me like he can’t imagine ever having done something to be the cause of my distress. “But I knew he wouldn’t follow through. It’s not the first time he’s gotten to that point with me, and no matter how tough he acts, he’s not a murderer.”
“Everyone can get there,” I insist tensely. “Especially when they’re that angry and drunk. Frank could have easily lost his mind and taken things too far, and then where would you be?”
“I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m sorry.”
I nod, accepting the apology offered, but I can still feel the anxiety coursing through my whole body. I go back to cleaning up Luke’s chin, returning my focus to the task at hand. We’re silent for a moment before Luke pulls my hand away, grasping it firmly in his own. He stares at our joined fingers with a pinched brow.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice wavering. “I shouldn’t have exposed him like that. I thought I would feel better about it, but it just feels…ugly. And wrong.”
“He deserved it,” I reply sincerely. “He deserves everything he gets after how he’s treated you.”
“He’s a bully and an asshole, but he’s still a person, Ethan,” Luke reasons, a flash of anger moving through his stark blue eyes as he looks back up at me. “He may have started it, and he may have gotten violent, but I’m no better than he is by exposing him like that. He’s deeply repressed and closeted, but that doesn’t make it right to out him like that because I was angry. I should have resisted the temptation, but I was so desperate to get back at him.”
I brush my thumb over his cheek as a tear spills over, and he wipes a hand at his nose, averting his gaze again. I get the distinct image of him looking just like this back when he was a kid, after getting beaten up—bleeding and miserable, but still trying to hold a stiff upper lip. It’s stubbornly obstinate, and yet I can’t help but find it ridiculously adorable. It fills me with anger and sadness when I reflect on how wildly different our childhoods were.
I run my fingers through Luke’s hair until his face softens from the caress. Then he looks at me again, and I see his resolve wavering. He’s holding on by a thread.
“It’s too late to take it back now,” I say softly. “This time tomorrow, the whole town will have heard. It’s going to spread like wildfire.”
Luke drops his head with a quiet sob, his tears flowing freely now.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay?” I try and soothe. “If you ask me, Frank did this to himself. He behaved abominably back there, and I was so pissed that no one else even tried to stop him. He got off easy by having his dirty laundry exposed. I was gunning to break every bone in his body until he was a pile of goo on the floor.”
Luke looks at me incredulously, but I’m quite serious. And as he studies my face, I watch as the realization dawns over his features that I honestly might have done it had he not held me back. He seems genuinely awed, then confused.
“That’s pervertedly chivalrous of you.” He sniffs. “No one’s ever offered to liquify another person to protect my honor before.”
I can’t help but smirk. “Not everyone’s worth the privilege. Just say the word, and I’ll run back in there and turn Frank into soup.”
Luke huffs a blubbery laugh, but as he smiles, the cut on his lip stretches, opening back up again, and he groans. I take a new napkin and press it to the wound, my brows furrowing. He wipes the tears from his eyes and lets out a shaky breath.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, the soft skin of his lips brushing against my fingertips at his mouth, sending a flutter straight up my arm. He puts his hand over mine and gives me a look of such sincerity that my heart melts.
Five minutes ago, I was genuinely afraid Luke was going to die. Now that the danger has passed, I’m immediately overcome with an urge to kiss him, the need consuming my soul. I lean forward, searching his handsome face for any reluctance as I brush my free hand along the curve of his jaw, but he seems equally as eager for me to be closer to him. I put our foreheads together, and he closes his eyes with relief at my touch. I can feel his tension fade, and I tilt my head slightly to brush our lips together, barely more than a whisper of connection on the side of his mouth away from his injury.
“What are you doing?”
Luke and I snap apart at the sharp gasp, and we both turn to find Chrissy standing next to the door. She’s holding a glass of water in her hand while gripping napkins to her chest, looking very much like a scandalized suburban housewife clutching her pearls after witnessing something unsavory. She’s staring openmouthed at the two of us, and my heart drops to my stomach at the look of horror on her face.
“Chrissy…” I hear myself start, but my head suddenly fills with white noise as panic surges through my veins. My whole body freezes, and my heart starts racing—the involuntary reaction going against logic and reason, but gripping me fully.
