Page 43 of After We Fall

A lovely sensation wraps around me like a blanket. He thought about the conversation we had last night and in turn did something kind for one of the girls. But the blanket turns scratchy like it’s made of wool, the uncomfortableness almost choking me.

His eyes narrow, and he cocks his head. “When’s the last time someone did something for you, Penelope?”

The fibers of the blanket wrap around my throat, impeding my breaths. Short of Harlan’s heroic act of getting me off the streets and into Colorado as an employed woman with provided housing, I don’t remember the last time someone did something for me. That’s not how my life operates. I do things for others. I prove my value. This? This unrequested, unexpected generous move on his part to help me? This feels like suffocating.

As if he can sense the torture, Luke shifts his focus to the instrument. “I found this kit at a pawn shop. Total steal.”

This announcement jerks me out of my choke hold. “You can’t do that. You can’t spend that kind of cash.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too much,” I practically yell. “It’s too much money.” The only valuable thing my adoptive father ever taught me was that no one gives anything without expecting some kind of benefit in return. I can’t possibly allow him to help me, or anyone around me, without some kind of payment.

He crosses his arms. “You been looking into my bank accounts?”

“No. I just . . . Okay.” I nod to myself, finding the solution. There’s always a solution. “Okay. Maybe I can get you a tax write-off. I don’t know how to do that with a gift of goods to a nonprofit. But it can’t be much different than a monetary gift. I’ll do some research and contact you when I can create a valid donation statement.”

“Penelope.” He takes one powerful stride toward me. “If you give me that paper, I’ll just rip it up.” He hitches his thumb toward the drums. “I didn’t do this to create more work for you.”

In spite of his proximity, I refuse to shrink back. “It’s too much, Luke. It’s too generous.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not that big of a deal.” With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he pulls drumsticks out of his back pocket, steps to the set, and straddles the stool. He looks insanely attractive and just a little bit dangerous. “It’s an opportunity for me to show you my mad skills.”

I blink. “You play the drums?”

“Yeah. And since I’m running out of things to do around here, I thought I’d give Bianca a few lessons.”

Does he mean he’ll give her lessons this week? Or does he mean that after the job at Twelve Bluebells is done, he’ll continue to come and give her lessons? Will it be a long-term commitment from the man who claims his time at the ranch is short-term?

Whatever the answer is, it’s more unexpected generosity.

Luke’s head moves back and forth to an internal rhythm for a few beats, then he unleashes.

I don’t know a lot about the instrument in front of me. But he is a cross between a cool jazz drummer and Animal from the Muppets band. His controlled, deliberate motions pound out the sounds, but there’s a move-with-the-spirit element to his playing. And the spirit is some sort of wild beast.

I have no idea what to do with the man in front of me. He’s attractive. He’s generous. In spite of his globe-trotting reputation, he’s done nothing but be completely all-in here at the ranch. Helping the girls when he can. Buying this drum set. Offering lessons. Tethering himself to them, whether he realizes it or not.

Is he also tethering himself to me?

Tightening every muscle in my body, I resist the desire to move with the beat because I can’t afford to enjoy the scene in front of me.

With the addition of the drums, the house will no longer be quiet.

Rather than lamenting the future pounding percussion, I feel my stomach tighten, and I close my eyes, trying to barricade the flood of regret. I am leaving. I have to leave. I failed Finley. I failed the Holcombes. One thing I’ve learned—there’s no room for mistakes.

But what if I could find Finley and fix my mistake? Then I could stay at the ranch. And maybe Luke would return to the ranch and give Bianca more annoyingly loud drum lessons. Maybe Luke would return to the ranch to see me.

If I can find Finley.

11

Inhale.

Fumes from the parking lot fill my nostrils, and I adjust my purse strap over my shoulder.

I can do this.

Exhale.