Page 37 of When the Smoke Clears

He scratches the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Actually, I was wondering something…”

“What’s that?”

“Are you cool if I take a run at her?”

I’m on my feet before I realize it, my chair rolling back with a squeak. “What did you just say?”

“I mean, she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring,” he stammers, “and she was pretty clear she’s not here for you, so I just thought…”

He trails off as the air shifts.

I round the desk slowly, each step deliberate. “You just thought you could come in here and ask permission to fuck my ex-girlfriend?”

He shrugs, color rising in his neck. “Well, I mean…yeah.”

“Greg, I’m going to make this very clear, so even you can’t screw it up.” My voice drops. “Stay away from Isla Tanner. Do you understand me?”

His eyes widen as he lifts both hands in surrender. “Yeah, I understand.”

I close the distance until we’re nearly nose to nose. “That means today. Tomorrow. Next year. Or ten years from now.”

He takes another step back, rattled by my loss of control. “No worries, Sheriff. I hear you loud and clear.”

He spins on his heel and bolts out the front door before I can fully process what just happened.

I slam my office door shut, the sound reverberating through the room. I lean back against it, exhaling hard.

What the hell was that?

I don’t have time to unpack it before my father’s voice booms through the station, greeting Helen. I hear her tell him I’m busy, and she’ll let me know he’s here.

As usual, he ignores what he doesn’t want to hear and strides straight into my office.

I pull his phone from my drawer, stand, and hand it to him. He slips it into his suit pocket and unbuttons his jacket before taking a seat.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask, sitting across from him. The desk between us feels like a physical version of everything else that divides us.

“Chase isn’t ready to take on some of the projects I have in mind.” His lips press into a thin line. “He needs help and guidance.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he has you and Nik, then.”

Nikolai is my father’s attorney and right-hand man. He’s been with Wild Industries for nearly twenty years and is a big part of why the company’s grown so much.

“I don’t pay him to babysit my children,” my father snaps.

I lean back. “You don’t pay me to do it either, so I’m not sure what your point is.”

“How satisfying can this work be, Luke?” he asks, the condescension there in the small, practiced crease of his brow. “You should be working for me, making a real difference. Living in a big home in a nice neighborhood instead of a cabin in the woods.”

I lean forward, meeting his gaze head-on. “I do make a difference, Dad. I love what I do. I help people.”

He scoffs.

“I love my cabin,” I add, “and the fact that it’s not some big, cold museum built just to impress people.”

He tilts his head and studies me like I’m a puzzle he’s decided not to solve. “I don’t understand you.”

“We can agree on that,” I say.