It was Seth—Seth and his frightened eyes, and his solemn voice—who broke the news to Luke.
Sal was missing. Sal was lost.
Luke discharged himself so fast, his friends and family got whiplash. He joined them in the grueling search for Sal. Day after day, Luke walked the long stretches of highway, peering into culverts, scouring swamps and acres of beach, desperately searching for his wife.
Luke wanted to find her and bring her home. Alive. That was all he cared about. All he needed.
But weeks passed. Then months.
Finally, in a shitty Motel 6, Jace and Seth begged Luke to call it off, to stop before he went broke or crazy. No more, they had said. No more, Luke.
Sal’s body was never found. The only thing pulled from the wreckage was her purse and a charred cell phone.
Now, tears blur Luke’s eyes and he has to turn away from his brother before he can fully lose himself in the grief.
It’s his fault. He’s the one who put Sal on that plane. Who tried to chase away her grief, instead of letting her heal.
But the worst thing Luke did was giving up on Sal.
He should have protected her and he didn’t. He left her behind. Left her body somewhere in that Florida swamp.
“Luke?”
Seth’s quiet drawl cuts into Luke’s memories, and he glances up. His brother’s eyes are clouded with sympathy. But Seth knows better than to ask, to rehash the past, so all he says is, “Do you care if we do this?”
Seth’s asking Luke for permission. Asking forgiveness. Because do this means make music. Without him.
With a half-hearted shake of his head, Luke dips down to take a long swig from the kitchen faucet. His mouth tastes like an ashtray. “Why would I?” he asks, straightening up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve like some kind of heathen. “You and Jace gotta eat. Make money somehow. It ain’t fair of me to ask you to hold off.”
“You could go with us.” Seth laughs. A bright burst of sound from his brother. “You and I both know Griff Greyson as a lead singer is shit.”
A smile flashes across Luke’s face at Seth’s statement, but it’s gone as quick as it comes. Seth wants him to pick up a guitar again and lead the Brothers Kincaid.
The thought’s damn near staggering.
Luke smears his face in his hands. “It’s too soon.”
Every day is too soon.
“It ain’t too soon. You need a gig to get your mind back, Luke.” Seth slicks a hand through his hair, says grimly, “I don’t like leavin’ you out here by your lonesome.”
Luke gives his brother a leave-it-alone look. “I’m over that, Seth. I got that out of my system.”
“I sure as hell hope so, because I ain’t going through that again.”
Seth’s voice cracks with pain. Luke doesn’t blame him. After what he put him through ...
“You got to pull yourself together. Please, man.” Luke grimaces at his brother’s pleading tone. “How many more months you gonna sit around here, waste your life?”
Seth’s question rings heavy in his ears.
Luke turns away from his brother to stare out the window. He closes his eyes against the sun. He doesn’t want a life. Not without Sal.