Free Back to Luke by Kathryn Shay Page B

with you, and neglected him. I didn’t see it happening, Jayne, I didn’t.”
    “Oh, Luke. I’m so sorry.”
    “For a while after you left, I wasn’t fit company for anybody. I threw myself into my work. Once I shaped up, and realized that Timmy was in way over his head, I tried to talk to him. He got surly, moody and mad at me. All I did was alienate him more, so he didn’t tell me much. After a while, we only saw each other at work, and he functioned there, too. I thought, screw it, if he doesn’t want to be friends, so be it. I’d live my own life.”
    “What happened to change that?”
    “He got deeper into drugs and eventually needed more to feed his habit, so he came to me for help.”
    “That’s good.”
    “No, not help in getting clean. He wanted money from me. He’d blown all his cash on drugs and gambling, which I didn’t even know he was into.”
    “Oh.”
    “I said no to the money.” God, he could still see Timmy’s dark eyes, bloodshot and watery, his shoulders hunched, his tone pleading. “But I told him I’d do anything to help him get straight. He left my place saying he’d think about it.”
    “Did he get help?”
    Luke’s throat clogged. He couldn’t answer.
    Jayne drew back and faced him. “What? Tell me.”
    “He went back to his place, got his Rolex watch to sell and scored—for the last time.”
    “He overdosed? Timmy’s dead? ”
    Feeling his eyes spill over, he nodded. “I was the last person to see him alive. I…if I hadn’t…” Luke couldn’t get it out. “I should have…”
    Jayne grasped his shoulders. “Done what? What could you have done?”
    “Stopped him.”
    “You tried.”
    “Maybe not hard enough.”
    “Luke, you know that one person can’t make another get clean and sober.”
    “I do here,” he said pointing to his head. “Not here.” He laid his palm over his heart.
    She put her hand over his. “You just need to let your heart catch up. I’m so, so sorry about Timmy. He was a great guy. But his downslide wasn’t your fault.”
    “If I hadn’t been so obsessed with you…”
    “You were obsessed with me?”
    “Yeah, of course.”
    “I never knew.”
    “It doesn’t matter. I’m not blaming you, though seeing you again has reopened old wounds.”
    She sighed. “All the more reason for me to leave.”
    Luke was touched by her conciliatory tone and unselfish gesture. “I—”
    Her phone shrilled into the darkness from her purse.
    “Who’d be calling you this late?” he asked.
    “I don’t…oh, wait, it’s only eight in California. It must be…” She drew in a heavy breath, got up, fished out the phone and tentatively said into it, “Jayne Logan.”
    Luke watched her face in the lamplight from the gardens. Her complexion had gone white. “Hello, Michael. I take it you have news.”
    As she listened, her only reaction was to grip the phone; then she turned away from Luke. “Yes, yes, I understand. No, I know it’s not. Yes, of course. I’ll be in touch.” She clicked off, slipped the phone into the dark slacks she’d changed into and kept her back to him.
    When Luke saw her shoulders begin to shake, he got up and crossed to her. Placing his hands on her upper arms, he was about to speak when she said, “Don’t,” and tried to draw away.
    He held on tight. “Bad news?”
    She nodded.
    He could feel the emotion welling up and out of her, feel her body quiver with it. And he couldn’t stand it. “How bad?”
    Clearing her throat, she said, almost inaudibly, “Very bad.”
    He let it go a few seconds, and when she didn’t say more, he tugged her around. “Tell me.”
    She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were so bleak it killed him. “That was my lawyer. The architectural board called him. The Coulter Gallery…the walkway that collapsed…”
    “What did they find?”
    “It was my fault. There was an error in the design. Michael didn’t know the technical details and they’re sending me an official report. Oh,