“What did you talk about?”
Frank clenches his jaw, his cheeks going slightly pink as he glares me down with malice. Despite the fear he feels at my hands, he doubles down on the snotty response, closing up again. “Why don’t you ask him yourself.”
I grip him by his shirt and lift him off the ground so that his feet are dangling in the air, and I slam him against the wall again. He starts shouting at me, trying to peel my fingers off his jacket, but my grip is an iron vise. My eyes never leave Frank’s face. I revel in the sheer terror I find there.
There’s a growing crowd around us now—some guys from inside the shop have come out to see what the fuss is about. But they don’t matter right now. There could be a million witnesses to this, and I’d still be justified.
“Tell me the truth,” I demand.
“I already told you!” Frank shouts, his voice panicked. “I didn’t touch him, I swear. I didn’t. Ask him yourself! I never laid a hand on him except that night at the bar. It wasn’t me!”
Something about the sincerity in his declaration gives me pause, and for a split second, I wonder if I’ve got it wrong here. Shockingly, I think I’m starting to believe him. But it doesn’t make sense. It has to be Frank. It wasalwaysFrank… But if he didn’t hurt Luke, then who did?
Before I can do anything else, hands are on me, physically dragging me backward—some brave souls trying to break up this pathetic excuse for a fight. I don’t resist them. Letting go of Frank’s jacket, he drops to the ground with a thud, his legs giving out from under him in his fear. He looks so pathetic as he curls up and backs away from me, only adding to the notion that he might actually be telling the truth. It brings up more questions than answers.
Still, I give Frank one last steely glare, unwilling to back down, despite my confusion.
“If I find out you’re lying, I’m coming back for you,” I warn, my words as cold as ice. “Watch your fucking back.” Frank swallows with fear, but doesn’t argue.
With a simple shrug of my shoulders, the others release me, and I turn and walk back toward my truck without another word, impervious to the whispers and stares that follow.
When I get home, I find Luke sitting at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of tea, staring absently across the room. He still looks physically exhausted, but there’s a steely pinch to his expression that sends a chill down my spine. His eyes are red-rimmed like he’s been crying again.
Misty is curled up next to him on the kitchen counter, using a pile of mail and papers as a bed. She gives me an equally rigid look, and suddenly, I feel like I’m on trial. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Luke asks evenly, his eyes flitting down to his mug.
“No… I, uh… I quit yesterday. I walked out right after you left,” I say carefully.
Luke looks up at me then, staring me dead in the eye. “Why? I asked you not to do that.”
“I should have quit a long time ago.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“What do you expect me to say?” I frown, staring back. I can tell I’m missing something. I just don’t know what.
Luke shakes his head, looking away. But then he sees the blood on my hand, the split knuckles where skin tore on brick, and he freezes.
“Ethan, what did you do?” he asks, his voice so low it’s scary.
“It’s nothing.” I shrug, turning to the sink to clean the cuts. “I’m fine.”
“What did you do?” Luke demands again, his voice panicked. Turning my head to look at him over my shoulder, I can see how his face has gone pale.
“I had a chat with Frank,” I say quickly, my brows furrowing with confusion. Why would the thought of me getting into a fight give him such chilling fear?
“Frank?” Luke asks incredulously—baffled.
So, clearly, he wasn’t expecting that answer. I guess Frank was telling the truth.
Luke’s eyes dart back and forth with confusion as he contemplates my words and bleeding knuckles before coming to some kind of conclusion. His face drops into a mask of horror. “Oh, god. Please tell me you didn’t….”
I frown. “I didn’t hurt him if that’s what you’re asking. I only scared him a little.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Luke groans.
“Funny. You know, he asked me the same thing.” I laugh dryly, slamming the faucet off. I grab a towel and hold it against my hand, the pain shooting up my entire arm, only adding to my irritation. “I’m starting to think I’m the only one with a brain around here.”
