Preston Brothers: Lucas Part 39

She asks to take my prints. I let her. I have no choice.

She asks to take my statement.

I tell her I can't. Not now.

She understands.

I look down at her desk, at the scattered paperwork and half-filled coffee cup. She'd recently been promoted to senior deputy, I remember Lane telling me. There's a framed picture of her and Brian and a smaller one of her and Lane stuck to the edge of her computer monitor. I stare at the picture, at the life in Lane's eyes, and I force myself to breathe. I don't have control of my body, of my emotions. I'm dull, weak, and waiting. The tears well again and the puke rises, but I manage to keep it down. "Have you heard anything?" I ask.

She clears her throat, scoots closer, starts to uncuff me. "Four gunshot wounds. Three to her legs. One to her abdomen. The paramedics on the scene said she was lucky to be alive when they got there. She'd lost a lot of blood." Misty chokes on a sob but maintains her professionalism. "Lois is strong. She'll fight this. She has you to come back to."

"Where is she now?"

"They're operating on her. It could be hours until we hear anything."

I rub my wrists, now free of the handcuffs. "And Cooper?" I ask.

Rage.

Murder.

She sighs. "He'll be fine, Luke. He'll survive."

Finally, my eyes lock on hers. "Do you believe in fate, Misty?"

She forces a smile but doesn't give me an answer.

"My mother believed so boldly in fate, and if this is my fate, I'll wear it. But this can't be Lane's fate because the world isn't ready to lose her." I glance back at the picture of Lane. "Then again, the world wasn't ready to lose my mom, either.

The blood on my clothes is still damp, but the blood on my hands is not.

At some point between the hospital and this waiting cell at the police station, it managed to become nothing more than red flakes on my palms and fingers. I can feel it on my face, too, mixing with the tears now soaked into my skin. I wonder how the others in the cell see me-barely a man, huddled in the corner of the room, bloodstained tux, and a missing shoe-and I imagine, for a moment, the thoughts and stories that run through their minds.

Maybe I was in a wreck, drunk.

Maybe I was in a fight, drunk.

Maybe I tried to kill someone.

I try not to think about it for too long, the repercussions of my actions beyond my mental capacity. So I stare down at the floor in front of me, the sole of my single b.l.o.o.d.y shoe print leading to where I sit, like a road map to my demise, and I think about the only thing that makes sense.

I think about her.

And I wonder if I'll ever get the image, the feel, of her limp body in my arms out of my system.

Sixteen clicks.

Eight seconds.

That's how long it took me to realize I'd been in love with her for four years.

Eight, life-changing seconds.

It's also the exact length of time it took to lose her.

Chapter Thirty-Five.

LUCAS.

Lucy was three when I was born. I was the same age when Mom gave birth to Leo. A year after him, she had Logan. To say she had her hands full is an understatement. By the time Logan came around, Lucy was six and already at school so it was just the boys at home. To stop me from running around destroying everything in my path, Mom would pick me up and place me in Leo's crib. I'd grip onto the bars and watch through the gaps as Mom changed their diapers, got them dressed. When Leo was all clean, she'd put him in with me, and I'd find ways to make him laugh. Then Mom would bring us Logan, and she'd say, every time, "Be gentle, boys. He's just a baby."

Fifteen years later, I'm behind a different set of bars, but I'm doing the same thing: watching them.

A few seconds ago, I heard Leo yell, "Misty!" and found the strength to stand up and see what was happening. Part of a wall blocked my view so I couldn't see everything, but I could see them.

According to the clock opposite the cell, I've only been locked in for five minutes. And the processing took less than an hour. There shouldn't be any news on Laney yet. Unless... I couldn't even process unless.

"Misty!" Logan shouts, and fear squeezes my insides.

A gruff, male voice tries to settle my brothers. "You boys can't be here."

"Misty! Misty!" Logan repeats, his voice carrying through the air.

A moment later, Misty walks past the cell, her eyes narrowed, first at me, then my brothers. She asks, once behind the front desk, "What's going on here?"

Leo doesn't respond. He just pokes her shoulder. She steps back, surprised. Then Logan yells, "Wh.o.r.e!"

Two officers appear from nowhere and start to kick them out, but Leo says, "That's a.s.saulting a member of the police, right? Shouldn't we be detained or something?" His voice breaks, his tone desperate. "Right, Misty?" And through the haze, through the fog, it all becomes clear. My head drops forward, smacks against the bars, and I do it again and again because I don't want them here and I don't want them to see me. Not now. Not like this.

"I got it," Misty tells the officers. She grabs my brothers by the arms and leads them to the cell where I let go of the bars and step back, waiting for them to slide open and for my brothers to join me. To me, she says, "I'm off for the rest of the night to be with Brian at the hospital. As soon as we know anything..." she trails off. The bars clank closed, echo off the walls, and I don't know how long I stand there, looking down at the floor, shame and fear continuing to build inside me. I look at my hands, at the blood, and without a word, I sit back down in the same spot, drowning in the same fear. Leo's the first to join me, sitting to my right. Logan's next, sitting to my left, and I finally manage to speak. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We're your brothers, Luke," Leo says. "We're here for you."

In a sprint, every millisecond counts. In the holding cell, those milliseconds feel like eons. Every single time I close my eyes I see those eyes, those tears, and they haunt me.

I sit with my back against the wall, my knees up, my head between them and I cry silent tears and live in silent thoughts and then Logan says, "This is my fault."

I lift my gaze, look over at him, but he's staring ahead, his eyes glazed.

"I was outside drinking with Dumb Name, and we saw Lane and Cooper walk out. We hid in the f.u.c.king bushes like idiots so we could spy. We thought they were s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around behind your back, and we wanted proof. But he was just begging her to take him back, and he kept apologizing. Something was seriously wrong with him. It was like he was possessed." He wipes his eyes on his forearm, his shoulders shaking. I try to breathe, but I can't.

"She told him she was done, that she wanted nothing to do with him and she started to go back in, but then he yelled Don't walk away from me!'" Logan falls apart, his words as broken as himself. "And then he lifted the gun... Luke..." He faces me, sob after sob wrecking him. "I didn't know what to do and I got so scared and I just ran away. I didn't even check on her. I'm so f.u.c.king sorry."

I hold his face in my hands and lock my eyes on his. "This is not your fault."

He shakes his head, his tears falling. "I'll send the video to Misty. I'll do whatever I can to help."

"What video?"

"I told you," he says. "I wanted proof."

Five hours and forty-six minutes after Misty left, she returns, along with my dad. My brothers and I stand, greet them at the bars. Dad says, "She's out of surgery."

"She's going to be okay, right?"

"Eventually."

Every muscle in my body seems to ease, and I grip the bars in desperation. "Can I get out now? Can I see her?"

I see the remorse in their eyes when they look away, just for a moment. Misty says, "The bail hearing is set for Monday, Lucas. I've requested that you stay here until then. That way you're close to me, close to family."

I stay in the stupid cell, alone, the eons ticking by one after the other. Dad returns to give me my emergency gla.s.ses I requested because contacts don't do well with tears, with pain and agony. I tell him not to come back, that I don't want to see him until the bail hearing.

When Monday morning comes, I change into a clean suit Dad brought me and breathe in fresh air for the first time in what feels like forever. I sit in the only courtroom in town, in front of the only judge in town, next to a lawyer I'd never met before. Dad has a lawyer for the business, but this one specializes in crime. Because that's what I am now. A criminal. All I want is for them to announce bail, for Dad to hopefully pay it, and for me to spend the rest of the day, the rest of my life, next to Laney.

Judge Nelson, a woman who should've retired years ago, reads a sheet of paper out loud explaining my a.s.sault charges, and I look over at Dad and Misty sitting behind me and for a second, just one, I'm scared for me. I didn't a.s.sault just anybody. I wanted to kill Cooper Kennedy, whose family has more than enough f.u.c.k You money to get exactly what they want. I'm going to prison for a long time, too long to ask Laney to wait for me.

Judge Nelson sets bail and gives me the conditions of my release: A restraining order has been granted from the Kennedys, meaning I can't be within a hundred yards of him. Fine, I think, until I hear Dad murmuring to Misty behind me. Misty stands. "If I may, Your Honor."

Judge Nelson smiles at her. "Misty, I've known you since before you could walk." Small towns. "Why so formal?"

Misty clears her throat, squares her shoulders. "I'd like to request a temporary lift on the RO, limited to the hospital, with police supervision."

Judge Nelson's gray eyebrows bunch, and she switches her gaze from Misty to me and back again. She calls for a ten-minute recess and requests both myself and Misty to her "chambers." My head spins. I know nothing of what the f.u.c.k is happening, and I thought I was getting out. I need to get out. I need to see Laney.

Misty and I don't have time to discuss anything before we're sitting in leather chairs inside a room with Judge Nelson. It smells like old lady perfume, Band-Aids and hotel room Bibles.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" Judge Nelson asks, sitting down opposite us.

Misty doesn't skip a beat. "Cooper Kennedy is sitting in a hospital room four doors down from Lois Sanders."

And all of a sudden I go from knowing nothing to knowing too much.

Misty adds, "With the restraining order in place, Lucas-I mean Mr. Preston-can't visit her. I'm simply requesting-"

Judge Nelson cuts in. "You have a personal relations.h.i.+p with Miss Sanders, correct?"

"She's my boyfriend's daughter."

"And you think she deserves special privileges?"

"Your Honor." I don't recognize my own voice. "May I speak?"

Judge Nelson nods. "If it's quick. I have to be back in session soon."

My heart pounds, my breaths uneven. I push through. "Laney-I mean Lois-we've been best friends since we were eleven, and I've loved her every day since then. Right now..." A sob forces its way up my throat, out my mouth. "Right now, I'm lost. I have no idea what's going to happen to me. I just know that I need to see her. And if I'm feeling this, I can't even imagine how she's feeling. We've been side by side through everything, ma'am. And I understand that you have to do your job, that you have to abide by the laws set to protect, but no one was protecting her when Cooper decided to unload four bullets into her body."

Misty's hand lands on my shoulder and I hear her cries, louder than mine.

"You asked if we think Laney deserves special privileges as if there's a logical answer to that question. She fell in love with the wrong guy in the wrong way, and I let her down. I let him lead her away from me, and I was supposed to protect her. To save her." To be her Wonderwall. "And I need to see her so she knows she's loved, that she didn't deserve this, and selfishly, I need to tell her I'm sorry so she can forgive me. Because I need her forgiveness, ma'am. More than I need my next breath."

Judge Nelson cancels her sessions for the rest of the day, parking fines and petty disputes, and we ride to the hospital in a police cruiser while Dad follows in his car. The judge asks me about Laney, about the type of person she is, and about our relations.h.i.+p. I answer each one as best I can, but my mind is both numb and frantic, and there are too many words, words, words racing through my head, so many different ways to say I'm sorry.

My steps falter and my gut twists when we enter the hospital, walk down the halls, and I see a police officer guarding Cooper's room as if he's the one who needs the protection. But Judge Nelson raises her hand, says, "He's with me." And the officer sits back down, reads his paper.

It takes fifteen steps to pa.s.s three rooms until I'm standing in front of Laney's door, lost. I look to Misty, look to Dad. "Go on," Dad says. "You need each other." He didn't say that I need her or that she needs me. We need each other. Like air in our lungs. Like life in our blood.

There are no words to describe the slaughtering of my heart when I see Laney in the bed, her right leg bandaged, elevated, tubes and machines hooked up to her body. "She's out," Brian says, sitting in the dark corner of the room. He looks like I feel and I force myself forward, step after step, until I'm standing next to her, looking down, and I've never missed those eyes as much as I miss them now, hidden behind her closed lids.

Dad pulls up a chair, sets it behind me as if he knows I'm struggling to stand, to see. I sit down, take her hand in mine.

Brian says, "I'm not sure if she's sleeping or if the pain meds..." He sighs. So tired. So broken. "Talk to her, Luke. She's been asking for you."

It's hard to pull words from your heart when there are four other people standing in the room, watching, waiting. "Hey, baby. It's Lucas." Stupid. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to come see you. I've been... don't worry where I've been. I just..." I drop my head on her hand and I forget the words, the need for her forgiveness, and I cry. You'd think that I'd be done with crying but seeing her, touching her, it's everything I wanted and needed, and I thought it would fix everything but it doesn't. Dad grasps my shoulder, his huge frame like a giant boulder when he squats down next to me. "It's okay," he says.

But it's not.

I'm crying harder, tears and snot and drool and bandages and hospitals and court dates and criminal charges and all I've ever wanted was coconuts, lime and Laney.

"It's not okay, Dad!" I shout, and he nods. He knows. "It's not okay. We were meant to have the rest of our lives, and it wasn't supposed to start like this. We were supposed to go to college together and get married and have kids and we're eighteen and this shouldn't be happening! I'm going to prison and she's never going to heal from this and what am I supposed to do, Dad? Tell me!" I plead. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do?"

"Lucas," he says, the same time Lane's hand twitches in mine and I stand quickly, look down at her, at those eyes.

"Luke," she whispers, her eyes fighting to stay open.

I wipe at my cheeks, try to hide my pain.

A single tear falls from her eyes, down her temple and into her hair. "I hurt, Luke."

I scan her body. No crimson red. No blood everywhere. "Where, baby? Where do you hurt?"

Her eyes drift shut again. "I hurt everywhere."