Page 49 of Ebbing Tides (The Lighthouse Duology #2)

And when I looked around at all these people, all these friendly faces, I realized they all wanted to know me. They all wanted to celebrate me and the life I'd lived—past, present, and future. They were all happy that I existed on this planet, even if the people who had put me here never were.

I was lucky.

But more than that, I was loved.

And I couldn't think of anything more worthy of celebrating than that.

***

Later that night, after the guests left Sid and Grace's house and all that was left was a mess, Sid, Grace, Melanie, and I ignored the dishes in the sink and the garbage bags piled by the door and instead made the executive decision to polish off the cake between the four of us.

“Soldier's nice,” Sid commented, shoveling another forkful into his mouth. “Big fuckin' dude though. Kinda scary actually. Guy looks like he could fuckin' kill someone.”

Melanie nodded thoughtfully. “Funny you should say that,” she said, her lips twitching into a smirk.

Sid stopped mid-chew. “Why are you making that face?”

“Luke knew him in prison,” Melanie said casually, and with that, the three of us slowly turned our attention to her. With a laugh, she shrugged as she stabbed another chunk of cake with her fork. “What?”

“Sweetheart,” I said, flabbergasted, “you can't just … casually drop that on us without elaborating.”

With another laugh, she finished her bite of cake and dropped her fork, wiping her hands off on a napkin. She leaned back against my arm, draped over her chair, and I moved it to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her to rest against my side.

“So, I remember Luke mentioning a guy named Soldier, and that’s not a name you just forget, right?

But I never asked for many details. I tried not to think much about who he was locked up with.

But, apparently, according to Stormy, he did, like, nine years for manslaughter,” she said.

“He was dealing drugs, and his best friend overdosed on something he was selling.

Or something like that. I don't know too many details.”

Grace's eyes widened. “How do you not dig for more info? Like, I'm sorry. I'd be asking Stormy for everything she’s got.”

Melanie shrugged. “It doesn't faze me much, I guess. Luke was sentenced to twenty-five years for second-degree murder, and I married him,” she said, her voice holding a touch of disbelief, like even after all these years, she still couldn't believe the trajectory of her own life.

“Everyone has shit in their past, and not everything is a reflection of their character. Not all of it is black and white, you know? Some of it is, yeah, but … not everything. Not for everyone.”

The room fell silent for one thoughtful moment.

It was impossible not to think about the things I had done.

The people I had hurt. The ones I had killed.

I knew about Luke, of course. I knew the name of the man he’d murdered.

I couldn’t say the same for the lives I had taken.

They remained nameless, but I knew their faces.

I could never forget. And as proud as I was to have served my country, I never cared to think much about the blood that had permanently stained my hands and soul.

Sid grunted a contemplative sound, and I couldn’t help but wonder if his mind had also gone to Afghanistan. But then … of course it had.

He nodded and said, “I mean, you're not wrong.” His voice was rough, his tone heavy.

My eyes met his across the table. With a barely noticeable nod from my best friend, I knew we were on the same page without a single word spoken.

Then, like the pro he was at brushing the heaviness aside, he allowed a smile to stretch across his face.

“But listen, all I'm saying is, if I need some crimes committed, I gotta feeling that dude's the one to call. Like, I could tell him I have a couple of bodies to bury, and he’d be like, Hold on. Let me grab my shovel .”

Grace laughed but smacked his arm all the same. “Oh my God, stop! He was so nice,” she scolded, rolling her eyes.

“Nice guys can dig a grave, Grace,” Sid pointed out, then jabbed his elbow against her arm. “I mean, look at Charlie! Great guy. A little creepy, kinda weird, can’t imagine living in a fuckin’ cemetery, but, yeah, great guy.”

Melanie softly laughed beside me. That sort of laugh where you knew it was funny, you knew the joke was good-natured, but the heart was too invested.

She loved Charlie. She cared for him as the little brother she never had, and whether they were still bound by marriage or not, I knew nothing would ever change how deeply she felt for him.

I kissed the top of her head, then said, “We should ask Charlie and Stormy if they want to come down to Connecticut soon.”

“The boys would like that,” she replied.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” I unwrapped my arm from her shoulders and pushed my chair out. “But first, I can’t remember when I last took a piss. I’ll be right back.”

Melanie’s adoring gaze lifted to mine with a smile, just as Sid barked with a boisterous laugh.

“That’s your weak old-man bladder, Serg,” he teased.

“Oh, yeah?” I smirked. “Why don’t you tell Mel how your colonoscopy went? I’m sure she’s dying to hear about that.”

The smile was wiped away from his face, and I laughed triumphantly as I turned to leave the dining room, knowing he was about to divulge far more information than my poor wife had bargained for.

I visited the bathroom, did what I had to do, and left to head back into the dining room.

But I noticed movement coming from the couch, and thinking for a split second that it might be Lido getting up to something he shouldn’t, I approached, only to find that it wasn’t my dog, but instead my oldest stepson.

Luke was sitting on the couch, holding on to something in his hands. His face was downturned, his eyes hidden from my view.

It was late. He and the other kids—his brothers, along with Sid’s and Ricky’s respective kids—had been sent to bed a while ago, and he should’ve been asleep by now.

“Hey,” I said gently, taking a seat beside him. “What are you doing down here?”

“Can’t sleep,” he muttered, not turning to look at me.

Melanie’s boys and I had spent the last two years building a relationship that was sturdy and dependable.

CJ had been quick to fall in love with me and the idea of me sticking around, and Danny had followed shortly after.

Luke was a little more hot and cold, although our bad days were growing fewer and further between as time went on, but just as unpredictable as they’d always been.

And now, judging by his lack of desire to address me, I was suspecting this moment was one of those times.

“Oh, no?” I asked, trying to catch a better glimpse of what was held in his hands.

He sniffled, and I quickly tried to assess if he was crying or perhaps coming down with something.

“It’s hard to sleep after you’ve had a busy day,” I commiserated.

And, boy, had it been a long one. From driving north at the butt crack of dawn, to packing the last of the things at the house, to handing over the keys to the new owner, to invading Sid’s house, to partying for hours …

I yawned, just thinking about it, and flopped back against the couch.

“God, I think I could fall asleep right now actually,” I said, stretching my arms out.

I thought Luke might perk up. Thought he might lean back and rest on the couch with me like he sometimes did at home. But he didn’t. He remained where he was, perched on the edge of the seat, staring at whatever it was he was holding.

“Did you come down, looking for your mom?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Okay,” I replied. “What are you looking at?”

He reached his hand behind him and held something out to me.

I took it to find that it was a picture, one of a man in a white T-shirt and loose-fitting pants.

In his arms, he held a baby, and without asking for clarification, I knew that the people in this picture were Luke Senior and his first son, this boy beside me.

“This is you and your dad,” I stated.

He didn’t reply for a moment, and the air grew tighter, and the good feeling I had felt in the dining room vanished. I wondered if I should’ve gotten Melanie, wondered if Luke would prefer to talk to her, but then …

“He doesn’t feel like my dad,” he muttered. “I barely even remember him.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not your dad though,” I countered gently.

“I didn’t even know him.”

I nodded. “I understand that.”

He scrunched his face and turned to me. I had known the boy for two years.

I had celebrated two birthdays, bought multiple sizes of clothing and shoes, but it only struck me now how much he had changed.

Not just the number on the calendar, but his face, his eyes.

Fuck, I thought fifty years was wild, but the changes in this boy’s face represented only two, and he was nearly unrecognizable to the little boy he had been just twenty-four months ago.

“No, you don’t,” he argued, shaking his head. “You knew your dad.”

I sniffed a bitter chuckle, but it wasn’t directed toward Luke. “I did know him. Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t. But … that’s not what I mean,” I said, redirecting the conversation. “You knew your dad for a few years, right?”

He dropped his gaze, swallowed, and gave his head a little nod.

“Okay. So, I’m not going to pretend to know what it was like for you. Especially seeing him like that,” I went on, implying the prison scenario Luke Senior had been in. “But did you know I had a son?”

His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know that I was married to someone before I married your mom, right?”

“Yeah …”

“Her name was Laura—”

“I know. I’ve heard you guys say it.”

“Right,” I replied, nodding. “Well, Laura and I were going to have a baby. She was pregnant, and we knew it was a boy.”

Luke hung his head as emotions crept in to wrinkle his chin. “What was his name?”