“Lucky?
” Mike gasped, his expression filled with shock, anger, pain.
She heard the breath Lucky expelled from where she stood a few yards away. “Mike,” he said quietly.
I wish to be a better man than I have been . . .
Charlotte Brontë,
Jane Eyre
L
ucky felt rooted in place, like he couldn’t move.
And maybe that was good because his first instinct was to run away from this—to just turn around and walk out the door. He was good at running—he’d been doing it all his life. But right now, his body wouldn’t let him. He had to face his brother, ready or not.
Mike’s Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed, making him look uncomfortable, upset. At the same time Lucky watched his brother’s expression, he tried to take in the ways he’d changed, grown up, aged. Like Lucky, he was bigger than he’d been as a young man, his shoulders broader. He appeared strong, healthy—although now he possessed small creases around his eyes. He looked, at the moment, tired.
He sensed Mike taking in the same with him—the changes. The ink, the muscles. And Lucky felt strange to realize he’d gotten a little taller, and more muscular, than his big brother.
After what felt like a long time, Mike simply began shaking his head. “What the
hell
, Lucky?” he said, clearly angry. “You couldn’t pick up a fucking phone? Send a fucking letter, or e-mail? You couldn’t let us know you’re still alive and breathing someplace?”
His attitude pissed Lucky off. He knew Mike and their parents had plenty to be angry about, but if Mike cared so damn much, couldn’t he let it show a little the first time they set eyes on each other? This was exactly why Lucky hadn’t let them know he was home—not just because of the complicated awkwardness of it all, but because he’d feared this very thing; he’d almost known they wouldn’t make him feel . . . missed. Or welcome. Instead Mike could only remind him what a screw-up he’d always been.
“Maybe I didn’t think anybody gave a shit,” Lucky bit off, his body tensing with his
own
rage now.
Mike just looked at him like he was crazy, stupid. “
What?
You didn’t think your own family cared if you were dead or alive?” His tone remained filled with just as much disdain, implying Lucky was an idiot.
And despite the fact that it felt a little humiliating to admit this in front of the whole damn bar, Lucky was completely honest. “That’s pretty much the size of it, yeah.”
Mike just stood there shaking his head, still as if Lucky wasn’t making any sense—when, in fact, he thought he was being perfectly clear. Eyes squinted and glassy, still disgusted, Mike growled, “Damn it, I don’t know if I want to hug you or punch you in the mouth.”
Lucky just glared at him. “Guess that’s your call, big brother.” Then he held his hands out to his sides, palms up.
His gaze never broke with Mike’s as he came nearer, and Lucky had no idea what Mike was going to do—but he began to feel, strangely, what it might be like to get a hug from his brother after all these years. And he’d just begun to realize he wouldn’t mind that, even here, even in front of all these people—when Mike drew back his fist and landed it squarely on Lucky’s jaw, a hard, jolting blow that knocked him back two steps.
Everything around him went fuzzy, not from being hit, but from the surprise of it, and the surprise that it wounded him so much—inside. He felt like he and Mike were in some kind of a weird bubble—he could vaguely hear Rachel saying Mike’s name, could see Tessa in his peripheral vision covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes gone wide. He sensed Duke standing back, but ready to defend Lucky if need be. Yet Lucky just kept looking at Mike.
He could hit him back; any other time in his adult life when someone had hit him, that’s what he’d done, hit them back. And whether it was a short scuffle or a long, knock-down, drag-out brawl, he’d usually been the last man standing. He didn’t lift weights for nothing—his muscles were one way he protected himself in this world. And given his size, he knew—he thought they
both
knew—that he could pound Mike into the ground right now if he wanted. But he just stood there.
Maybe because somewhere deep inside him, he thought Mike had the right to take a swing like that.
Or maybe because nothing that had happened when they were kids had really been Mike’s fault, and he was just now beginning to see in Mike’s eyes that he’d hurt him by leaving.
Or maybe . . . he just didn’t want to hit his brother, didn’t want to
hurt
his brother. Not anymore.
“You can hit me again if you want,” Lucky said after a minute. “You can beat the hell out of me if it’ll make you feel better.”
Mike’s expression remained cold, unforgiving.
And Lucky’s heart broke a little more than it already had. Damn it.
I didn’t think I felt shit like that anymore. I thought I was done caring what my family thinks of me.
Apparently, he’d been wrong. He swallowed, hard, trying to keep the emotion from showing on his face. He didn’t have much in ways, but at least he had his pride.
“It won’t,” Mike finally said. Then he turned his back, grabbed Rachel’s hand, and said, “Let’s go. We’re leaving.”
Lucky thought it looked like Rachel wanted to say something in response—though she held her tongue, probably wanting to just get this moment over with, which suited Lucky fine. He faced Tessa then—only to have Mike stop and look her way as well. “Come on, Tessa,” his brother said.
She simply blinked, pretty and shockingly pure even in that slightly sinful outfit. “Huh?”
“You’re going with us,” Mike said, his jaw set. “I’m not leaving
you
here, either.”
She sucked in her breath, and Lucky had half a mind to object, but the truth was, he didn’t want to make any more trouble for Tessa and her friend. He was
used
to trouble—but it sucked, and he wouldn’t heap it on someone who didn’t deserve it. “Go,” Lucky told her softly, just as Rachel made a prodding face at her to say, “Just come on already.” Then she shoved Tessa’s purse at her, which she must have been holding on to while Tessa and Lucky were outside.
Tessa gave him one last look and their eyes locked—right before she turned and left him there.
U
pon reaching the parking lot, Mike had announced that Rachel would ride with him in his pickup and Tessa would drive Rachel’s car—they’d follow her to her cabin.
But it was all Tessa could do to drive Rachel’s BMW—her hands trembled for the first few minutes after leaving Gravediggers, and even after that subsided, she remained tense.
Did that really just happen?
She blinked, then let out a sigh, trying to focus on the road. She’d never seen Mike so enraged, nor had she ever witnessed such pain in Lucky’s eyes. How had the night ended this way?
It ended this way because you were selfish and dragged your friend someplace she didn’t want to go.
And after this, Lucky probably wouldn’t want anything more to do with her—and she couldn’t blame him. Clearly, he and Mike weren’t ready to see each other—and because of her, they’d had it out in public.
Tessa kept reliving the moment Mike had hit Lucky, and it upset her more each time, until she was almost as angry with Mike as she was with herself. She’d come to like Mike since his engagement to Rachel, but she hadn’t liked him tonight. How could he hit his brother like that? She didn’t know everything that stood between them, but it had still felt unduly harsh.
As she wound the car across the country byways, soon turning onto Whisper Falls Road, Tessa tried to wrap her head around everything else that had happened, too—but the night had felt like a whirlwind and it all came to her in a mishmash of memories and feelings.
Lucky kissing her
,
and kissing her
,
and kissing her.
Rachel had gotten in big trouble with her fiancé now, thanks to Tessa.
Lucky running his fingertip along the upper ridge of her breast.
Mike had seen her dressed like a trollop and probably thought she’d gone insane.
Lucky splaying his strong hands across her thighs
,
sending bursts of heat shooting to her core.
Rachel now knew Lucky wasn’t an awful guy. And they’d actually gotten some tidbits about his past—even if he’d been evasive at moments.
And . . . if Mike hadn’t shown up
,
Tessa was pretty sure she’d have had sex with Lucky right there
,
behind Gravediggers
,
on the hood of that old car!
Except then she remembered . . . he’d told her he wanted to take her home with him. Which maybe meant . . . he thought she was worth more than just a quickie outside a bar. And the truth was, her body had been so ready, so primed, so eager, that if they hadn’t been interrupted, she wouldn’t have been very bothered by where they were or how sudden it all was—but she liked knowing Lucky had wanted it to last longer; she liked the idea of him wanting to take her into his bed.
By the time she pulled into her driveway, Mike’s truck right behind her, her heart pounded with renewed lust. So much that she had to grit her teeth and try to will away the pulse between her legs before she could exit the car and face the matter at hand, namely the problems she’d created for Rachel with her selfishness and impatience.
Finally, she took a deep breath and opened the door—to find Rachel approaching her in the glare of Mike’s headlights. Upon getting out, Tessa gave Rachel a hug and said into her ear, “I’m so, so sorry, Rach. I didn’t mean to be so selfish. I never dreamed things would turn out this way.”
When Rachel drew back to look at her, Tessa was surprised to see such calm understanding in her friend’s blue eyes. “It’s okay, Tessa, really.”
Tessa just sighed. “I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and Mike. I never imagined he’d show up there.”
“I know. But . . . he’s a lot more upset about Lucky than mad at me. Don’t worry—everything will be okay.”
“Between Mike and Lucky?” Tessa asked.
Rachel gritted her teeth, her expression troubled. “Well, I meant between Mike and
me
. I don’t know about Mike and Lucky—I really don’t.” Then she bit her lip and met Tessa’s gaze. “What about
you
and Lucky?”
Tessa let out a heavy breath, her thoughts drawn back to the profound passion they’d shared—albeit briefly. She wasn’t sure she’d ever experienced such intense need with a guy, such a powerful urge to simply go with it—with the moment, with the man, with everything he made her feel. “Well, things were getting really, um,
great
. . . until Mike showed up. Now, though . . .” She stopped, shook her head. “He’ll probably hate me. I knew Lucky had reasons for not wanting to see his family, and it’s all my fault this happened.”
“He’d be crazy to blame you,” Rachel said.
Yet the thought drew Tessa’s eyes toward where Mike sat waiting. “But sometimes emotions clearly get the best of people.”
L
ucky raced through the night, probably going a little too fast on his Deuce, but having to focus on the road was a good distraction from what had just happened. Not that it wasn’t all still roaring through him, but he gripped his handlebars tight and tried to feel each bend and curve in the road. He tried to let the brisk night wind rip his emotions away. All of them. The way he’d wanted Tessa. The pain of his confrontation with Mike. He wished he’d never come back here. He didn’t need this shit.
But then he remembered. He had a son—a son he’d be meeting as soon as Sharon gave the okay. So he
had
to be back here.
For once in your life
,
you’re gonna do the stand-up thing
,
you’re gonna do something right.
Even if coming home to this backwater town kills you.
Limp Bizkit’s version of “Behind Blue Eyes” played over the sound system on his bike, so he tried to focus on that, too—tried to let the somber song calm him down. But he felt the song’s words too much. What a fucked-up night. And there for a while, it had seemed like such a
good
night.
But maybe . . . hell, maybe everything happened for a reason. Maybe his self-righteous brother had punched him in the mouth because he wasn’t meant to be with Tessa the way he wanted; maybe this was fate’s nasty way of telling him he wasn’t meant to quit worrying about the past coming back to kick him in the ass. After all, this was a cruel reminder—the past
had
just come back, in a different way. To kick him in the ass—and to punch him in the mouth.
A few months ago, life had been easy. Well, wait, no—not easy. Not . . . good. But normal. He’d had a routine, and a set of rules he lived by, and everything had been on an even keel. For years, more or less. Sure, you run with a crowd of rough bikers, sometimes you had to push your weight around or even get into the occasional bar fight. But anything that had happened in the past ten years had all been petty shit for Lucky, nothing that mattered. And here, back in Destiny, it felt like
everything
mattered. He felt things here
more
. Whether it was anxiety over meeting his kid, or worry over his family, or lusting for the pretty girl next door.
Right now, all Lucky wanted was to turn it off. All of it. Even Tessa. Because tonight had reminded him in a whole new, brutal way how in small towns everything was intertwined, how everybody was a part of everybody else’s life, and how fucking complicated that always made things. No wonder he preferred city living, where people kept to themselves and left other people alone.
Hell, in nearly ten years in Milwaukee few people had ever even asked him a question that had caused him to mention California. In the city, no one made him remember, or worry—at least not any more than he did on his own naturally. Here, one night out with a woman he was attracted to and he’d been forced to bring up those California days and fudge answers and feel that ugly weight of keeping ugly secrets. And all
that
forced him to ask still new and troubling questions: Could a girl like Tessa ever truly
get
him? Understand him? Accept everything about him? This whole night had just served to remind him how different they were.