“You sure about that?”
Quick as a snake, Jasper sidesteps Luke. He raises the camera and snaps it right in Sal’s face. A blinding flash. Sal steps back, wincing, and stumbles, nearly losing her balance. She presses a palm against the hood of a car to steady herself.
“You goddamn son of a bitch.”
Luke lunges for Jasper. His fist a hammer, ready to swing.
He slams Jasper back against a parked car. With one quick punch, he knocks the camera out of Jasper’s hands.
“Luke, don’t—stop—”
Sal’s voice at his back, but Luke barely hears her. The past has Luke on a rampage. All he sees is red. All he sees are those long weeks after Sal was presumed dead. Media camped out at the farm, reporters snapping photos, Sal’s name hollered over and over again. It was something Luke hated with a vengeance. Something he never got over. Sal’s face, beautiful, smiling, in the paper, her death used to sell sorrow. And Jasper—as far as Luke’s concerned, he’s as good as dead.
“Let me go!” Jasper struggles under Luke’s ever-tightening grip.
Pinning Jasper against the car window, Luke stomps his boot on the camera. He’ll be damned if Jasper gets a picture of Sal.
“You leave my wife alone,” Luke snarls. “You hear me?”
“You broke my camera, you crazy fuck!” Jasper gasps out, his face pale. “I’ll sue you.”
“Do it.” Luke curls a hand around Jasper’s collar, tightening his grip. He drags him forward, then shoves him to the ground. “You come near her again, I’ll give you a story to write about.”
Behind him comes a soft whimper of pain.
Luke turns, blanching at what he sees. Sal, holding herself up, her hand to her brow, eyes squeezed tightly together, a grimace on her face.
Instantly, the world falls away, Jasper forgotten.
Luke hurries to her side. He grips her elbow, gives her a quick once-over. “Darlin’, you okay?” Alarmed, he dips his head. Her eyes are glassy and dazed and she stares off into the distance, as if seeing something he can’t. “Sal?”
Her eyes shutter, then blink open. Her face breaks into awareness as she cocks her head to the side and smiles wanly.
“Hmm, you broke the rules.”
His breath hitches at the mention of their bet from last night. Her teasing relaxes him. It tells him she’s shook up, but fine.
“I’m okay,” Sal places a hand on Luke’s chest and looks up at him. “Are you?”
“Yeah,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at Jasper, who’s scrabbling to pick up the pieces of his camera.
Sal lets out a shaky breath. “What an asshole.”
Luke steals a worried glance at Sal. She’s pale, her arms crossed around her midsection like she’s trying to protect herself. Regret slaps him silly. Regret for acting like a madman in front of Sal. For letting Jasper push him over the edge of sanity. The last thing he ever wanted to do was scare her.
“C’mon.” Luke takes Sal’s hand, and she leans into him for support, her eyes still dazed and dreamlike. “Let’s get you home.”
Sal stares out the window of the passenger seat. Downtown Nashville and its buildings fly by as Luke rolls them down the freeway, but her mind’s on the memory that hit her minutes ago like a Mack truck.
The flash of the reporter’s camera zapped something loose in Sal. Memories. She stood like a zombie trying to hold on to the memory while Luke pummeled the ever-loving shit out of the man who had accosted her in the parking lot.
Not that she cared.
She cared more about what she remembered.
Flashbulbs.
Headlights.