“It is,” Luke counters. “But hell if it ain’t a good time to be weird.”
Sal smiles in relief.
With a slow nod, Luke scrapes eggs onto a plate. “We did wrangle cows from time to time. And when we weren’t wranglin’ cows, you were wranglin’ lives.”
“And you wrangled a guitar?”
He winces.
As if sensing his hesitation, she stretches a hand toward him. Searchingly. “You don’t sing anymore?”
Luke rubs a hand over his dark beard, trying to decide how to pick apart the pieces of his life without her.
Hell if he’s gonna tell Sal how much his life stopped when she died. That he could barely function without her. She doesn’t deserve that burden. His goal is to get her healthy, get her whole, get her mind back, and not lay his bullshit on her.
“Luke?” Sal asks, dipping her head. Her eyes searching out the cracks he’s been trying to hide.
He sets a plate stacked with bacon and eggs in front of Sal. “I make guitars now. That little shop you saw out back, there’s where I work.” He holds out a fork, silently urging her to eat.
“Oh.” Sal takes the fork, her face contemplative. Then, like she’s deciding whether or not to buy his bullshit, she gives a little shrug. “That’s a shame,” she says. “I listened to some of your songs this morning. You boys are good.”
Luke arches a brow. “Checkin’ up on me, are you?”
She flashes a mischievous grin. “I had to. You are my husband after all.” She pops a piece of bread into her mouth.
Husband.
The word rockets through Luke. Sucker punches every fiber of his heart and sends it sparking.
Being Sal’s husband is a gift, and now that she’s back, he has to do everything in his power to prove that.
Silently, letting Sal eat, Luke reaches up to reshelve the box of coffee filters.
A pack of cigarettes falls from the top shelf. A hiding spot from Seth’s searching eyes.
Luke lets out a frustrated groan and swipes up the smokes in one quick motion.
But Sal, eagle-eyed, spies it.
She glances sidelong at him. “You smoke?”
He did. Luke had a two-pack-a-day habit before he met Sal, then cut it down to one stick a day after they started dating. Then, six years ago, a doctor found precancerous nodules that threatened his voice. His health. His career. It scared Sal so damn bad, Luke quit cold that night.
It was hard as hell, but damn if he couldn’t do it for her. For them both.
Luke crumples the pack in his hand. “Not anymore.”
He’s tossing it in the trash when Seth enters the kitchen. Seth raises a brow but keeps quiet.
Lifting his coffee cup, Luke drawls, “Nice of you to join us.”
Seth offers him a crooked smile. “Hey, man, not everyone can get up at the ass crack of dawn like you.”
“Can’t spend all day loafin’ in bed either.”
Seth rolls his eyes at Luke’s big-brother harassment, then makes for Sal. “Mornin’,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to drop a kiss on her cheek. “You save me some coffee?”
Her mouth turns up. She holds out her coffee mug. “Only if you get me a refill.”
Seth barks out a laugh but gladly swipes the mug from her hand. “Givin’ orders already, are we? God knows Luke could use some of that bossin’ around.” As he pours coffee in a steady stream, his eyes move between Sal and Luke, a shit-eating on his lips. “So, what’s on the ol’ agenda today?”
“Hell. You got me.” Luke drags a hand through his hair, realizing he and Sal have been talking for near on an hour. He hasn’t thought beyond breakfast.
Then, like the same thought’s occurred to her, Sal glances at Luke. Her eyes curious, eager for their plans. She opens her mouth. “I don’t—”
But whatever she was going to say is broken by a frantic, violent pounding on the front door.