After bringing the tea back upstairs, I watch as Luke sips it gingerly, but it seems to help a little. We don’t speak. I just hold him against my chest, feeling how his body shudders with every tortured thought that flits through his head. I know that type of pain firsthand—mental anguish. However, before he’s finished the tea, the pain medication finally begins to kick in, and he starts to doze off. I take the cup from his hands and put it on the bedside table, then help him lie under the covers, gently rubbing his back while Misty curls up in his arms.
He falls asleep quickly after that, his body succumbing to oblivion. Somehow, it doesn’t look entirely peaceful.
Lying beside him, I listen to the slight wheeze of his breaths. I can’t sleep, lost to my untamable imagination, and every few minutes, I check just to make sure Luke is still breathing. Part of me is terrified that if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up to find he’s not.
Chapter Forty-One
Damages
Luke’sconditionremainsstablethroughout the night, but the pain medication wears off shortly after 3 a.m., and when he wakes again, I give him another dose. This time, it’s harder to swallow, but after he finally manages, he curls up in my arms again and immediately goes back to sleep. His body is exhausted, and it’s no wonder why.
I continue to watch over him closely, even as my mind races.
But by the time the sun begins to rise around 7, I’ve made a decision. I might not be able to get the whole story out of Luke for a while, especially if it’s too painful for him to recount. But there is someone else I can confront instead—someone I’mdyingto talk to.
If Frank thinks he can get away with this, he’s got another thing coming.
Luke never stirs as I carefully peel myself out of bed and get dressed, but I still lean over and kiss his forehead, running my fingers gently through his hair before I go. Misty gives me a long blink from where she’s curled in his arms, almost like she understands what I’m about to do. It’s oddly encouraging. Shedoesn’t shy away from my hand either as I stroke her head and tell her to keep an eye on our person while I’m gone.
I don’t have a plan as I drive down to the shop, but I know I can wait for Frank in the parking lot. It’s too early for most people to be here, but there are a few by the time I arrive. I get some wary looks as I stand by the front door, but no one says anything—they seem to be able to sense that I’m not in the mood to be fucked with, and they want no part of it. I know they’re curious as hell to see what I’m doing back here after the way I left yesterday.
Thankfully, I don’t need to wait long for Frank to arrive. He sees me waiting by the door, and smirks as he heads my way. He dares to act like he's going to walk right past me, but when I bark his name, he stops short, looking me up and down with a condescending glare.
“What the fuck do you want, Carlson?” He even has the nerve to sound impatient.
It only makes me angrier.
“Did you touch him?” I growl, my words dripping with venom.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Frank bristles.
“Did you fucking touch him?”
He laughs. “Touchwho?”
Without stopping to think, I grab Frank by the collar and whirl him around, slamming his back against the cement wall with a heavy thud. Only then does he have the common sense to look frightened, but it’s mixed with outrage.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” he spits.
“Tell me why Luke showed up at my doorstep last night, beaten and bruised, nearly strangled to death. What do you know about that?”
“I didn’t fucking do it,” Frank snaps defensively.
“Bullshit. You’re the last person who saw him.”
“It wasn’t me!”
“You left with him yesterday after he got fired.” I shove him against the wall harder. Frank winces and tries to push against my grip, but he’s not stronger than me. “What were you doing with him then, if not assaulting him?”
“It’s none of your goddamn business,” Frank snarls.
“I know the kind of shit you’re capable of. Luke told me all about your perverted little escapades when you were kids. It’s well within your wheelhouse.What did you do to him?”
“I didn’t fucking touch your boyfriend.” Frank grits his teeth.
I lose control of my temper and slam my fist into the wall right next to his head, too pissed to feel the pain or notice that my knuckles are bleeding afterward. The sound of the brick cracking from the force reverberates in Frank’s ear, and he flinches. It has the desired effect.
“Okay! Sure, I followed him when he left yesterday, but we justtalked,” he babbles, his voice shaking with fear. “That was it! He left, and I went home. I never touched him. I swear!”
