Sing You Home by Ava Hunter

The harsh banging noise hits Sal like buckshot and she jumps. Her fork clatters to the ground. The banging has her forgetting where she is, has her forgetting the words that tumble past her lips, and has her remembering Roy. The slam of the door when she tried to leave. His hands reaching for her throat. Fear has her on edge all over again, her body bracing for a blow.

“Luke,” she says, and her voice must be a magnet because he’s already there, beside her.

Instinctively, she reaches for his hand, needing the firm feel of it, his strength.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he tells her, palming her trembling hand.

She looks up, scanning his face. Dark with an icy irritation. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know.” His hand tightens around hers.

Luke and Seth spring to life as a second sound—the doorbell—joins the thrum of incessant battering on the front door.

Seth swears.

Luke’s fingers unfurls from Sal. She resists the insane urge to grip them tight and pull him back to her.

“I’m gettin’ the goddamn shotgun,” Luke snaps, yanking off the apron. As he stomps off, Sal doesn’t miss the pointed glance Luke gives Seth: Keep Sal in the kitchen.

Sal watches Luke’s tall, broad-shouldered form disappear around the corner.

“The shotgun . . .” She eyes Seth, who’s leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, on alert. “He wouldn’t really do that, would he?”

Seth’s rumbly drawl sweeps over her like a breeze. “You’d be surprised what Luke would do for you.”

The statement’s blunt. Not meant to shock or wow, but just to state a fact. Like saying the sky is blue or that you need oxygen to breathe.

Sal’s beginning to think she’s Luke’s oxygen.

Seth tosses her a smile like the unpleasant intrusion is no big deal. “You should eat,” he says, handing her a clean fork.

As Sal picks at her eggs, she listens. The swing of the front door. The creak of the screen. Luke’s low, whiskey-smooth voice blending with someone else’s.

Higher-pitched. Fast-paced.

Female.

Sal’s heart sinks.

She’s not oxygen. Not by a long shot.

Trying to keep her voice casual, Sal sidelongs Seth, asks, “He’s got a girlfriend?”

Seth gives her an incredulous look.

At last, he says, “No. No, he don’t.” He cuts her a funny grin. Weighs his words carefully. “There’s only been you, Sal.”

Her breath stalls, and she’s barely able to choke out, “Then who is it?”

At the slam of the screen door, Seth groans in response.

He straightens up, moving fast for the doorway, when there’s a shrill screech. A flurry of commotion fills the room, a flash of yellow, and then fierce arms are surrounding Sal. The world around her spins as Sal rocks and wobbles on the tall barstool chair, but the person holds tight.

“Oh my God, oh my God! Sal!” a voice shriek-sobs in her ear. Kisses pepper her face. “Salinger! You’re here, you’re here, you’re really here! You’re alive!”

The person throttling Sal pulls back, and she finally gets a good look. Standing in front of her is a girl with long golden hair and the same green eyes as Sal. Only hers are tear-filled. She’s dressed in a thin pencil skirt, a creamy silk blouse and stiletto high heels, making Sal, in her ratty T-shirt, feel like the epitome of grunge.

A growl comes from Seth. “Jesus, Lacey. Ease off for a goddamn minute. She doesn’t remember you. You’re scarin’ her.”

The name rings a bell.

“Lacey . . . ,” Sal murmurs, recalling the brief rundown of characters Luke mentioned back at the hospital. That she had a baby sister, six years younger, who lived in Los Angeles. “You’re my—”

“Sister,” Lacey finishes. Her hands come up to cradle Sal’s face. Lacey’s eyes leak, thin lines of mascara running down her cheeks. “I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe it. Let me look at you . . .”

She squeezes Sal’s arm tight, as if preparing to give her a twirl on the barstool.

“Hey,” Luke says gruffly. He’s leaning in the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking pissed as hell. “She just got home. Can you maybe not go full-throttle banshee on her?”

Lacey draws back. Sal has to smile at the dramatic way she presses a hand to her heart. “She is my sister, Luke. And you’re trying to keep me from her. You’re trying to—”

“Tryin’ to keep Sal sane?” Seth pushes off the counter with his palms. “Yeah, that’s what we’re tryin’ to do.”

Lacey scoffs.

Luke floats Sal an apologetic smile.

“I didn’t want it to be too much for everyone to be here at once. I thought in a week she could fly down after you acclimated, but . . .” He breaks off, rolling his neck around on his shoulders as if to release irritation. He breathes deep, exhales. “Lacey does things her own way.”

A snort comes from Seth.

Laughing, Sal untangles herself from Lacey. “It’s okay,” she reassures him.

She thinks it’s funny how Luke and everyone else have kept a respectful distance, not touching her, careful to give her space, while Lacey is all over her with the enthusiastic eagerness of a puppy. Sal guesses that’s the way of sisters. Maybe. She can’t remember.

She turns her gaze to Lacey. Arches a brow. “We’re close, I take it.”

Lacey’s lower lip quivers. “You really can’t remember?”

“What? You thought we made it up?”

Crossing the kitchen, Luke takes a sip of coffee, scowls at its coldness, and dumps it in the sink. Although, the bitter grimace on his face makes Sal think it doesn’t have anything to do with the coffee.

Sal feels the kitchen tense. There’s a dizzying push-pull to the conversation that she can’t quite place.

Sliding forward off the chair, she swivels her head around the kitchen and frowns. “Is everything okay?”

Luke’s expression softens. Every line in his face smooths out as his dark eyes slide her way. Intent. Laser-focused. A blush creeps over Sal’s cheeks. She’s getting that a lot. And she likes it.

“Everything’s fine, darlin’.”

His voice—husky, hoarse.

“We’re fine. We’re fine. We’re all fine,” Lacey singsongs, smoothing out Sal’s hair. “What’re you doing today?”

Sal’s eyes brush to Luke’s, hopeful of their plans. She wants more of this morning. Long talks, learning more about her life, listening to Luke’s lazy twang.

But without waiting for an answer, Lacey claps her hands together, dashing any hopes of a day spent with Luke.

“I’m taking you out.”

Luke’s shaking his head. Vehemently. “It’s her first day home. You ain’t—”

Lacey cuts Luke off with a raised hand. “I am. I am taking my sister shopping. We’re going to catch up, reconnect. Sister stuff.”

“Sister stuff? Is that like pillow fights and bedtime stories?” Sal jokes, attempting to lighten the mood that’s darkened the kitchen.

Lacey stares at her and says, deadpan, “Oh, good. You’re still funny.”

Seth groans and buries his face in his hand.

Though Luke looks none too happy, he glances at Sal. “That okay with you?”

His eyes tell Sal that a single word from her and he’ll strong-arm Lacey and her plans out the door.

“It’s fine,” Sal says brightly, wanting to diffuse any argument.

But she finds herself torn between staying safe and secure on the farm and going out and seeing the city she’s lived in for the last fourteen years. Besides, she can’t hide out in the house forever. She spent too long doing that with Roy.

She smiles up at Luke. “I’ll go out. I don’t mind. It’ll be nice to see Nashville. Who knows? Maybe I’ll remember something.”

“Ain’t too bad of an idea, Luke,” Seth’s deep voice cuts in, although he looks violently ill at agreeing with Lacey. “We got that thing with Mort at noon. This way she won’t be alone.”

Sal doesn’t miss the way Luke tenses on the word alone.

“See?” Lacey’s smug smirk tells Sal she’s resisting the urge to stick out her tongue. “Don’t worry. I’ll get her back in one piece,” she promises.

Turning to Sal, Lacey picks up Sal’s breakfast and hands her the plate. “Here. Take this upstairs, eat, go change, and we’ll discuss.”

As Lacey ushers her away, Sal shoots Luke a what-the-hell grin paired with a shrug. Though he forces a smile, Luke looks sad to see her go.

Sal finds herself feeling the same way.

The minute Sal disappears up the stairs, the gloves are off. Lacey and Luke face each other. Spines stiff, faces tight.

Seth sighs and settles in to play referee. There’s no way he’s going anywhere. They’ll tear out each other’s throats.

It wasn’t always like this. Luke and Lacey were close. Once upon a time.

This Lacey—cold, worried, angry—is so far removed from the person he and Luke used to know.

Sal would barely recognize her sister. The only blessing from her memory loss.

A muscle in Luke’s jaw jumps. “You ain’t supposed to be here, Lacey. Not till Sunday.”

Lacey crosses her arms. “I couldn’t wait.”

Luke needles his brow. Normally, Seth would find his easygoing brother’s frustration funny. Make fun of him. Maybe even take Lacey’s side to rile him up. But not today. With the appearance of Lacey, Seth knows she’s upended all of Luke’s plans to get Sal adjusted, get her into therapy. Luke wanted visitors to arrive at a trickle, not a flood.

“We talked about this. We agreed—”

“No, you agreed,” Lacey bites back. “I’m here to protect her, which is more than you’ve done.” Luke pales considerably, but his eyes go as dark as a storm cloud. Lacey rattles on, oblivious. “I mean, my God, Luke. She’s so thin. She’s like a skeleton. And her hair—”

Bristling, Seth pushes off the counter. “Sal has been through some shit. So ease up and be nice.”

Turning to face him, Lacey crosses her arms. Her chin juts in defiance. “I’m always nice to Sal.”

Seth rolls his eyes. Lacey and Sal being cut from the same cloth is something he’s always been doubtful about. Lacey is a fucking cyclone from hell, Sal as steady as the sea. However, together, the two sisters were inseparable. Sal loved Lacey with a passion, and Lacey adored Sal. She was the closest thing to a mother she had.

A growl from Luke’s lips. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare say that shit out loud to her.”

Seth can tell Luke wants to pull the ripcord and unleash on Lacey. But he won’t, because every so often his eyes dart to the stairwell, worried Sal will overhear.

The last thing he’ll do is upset her. Luke would rather be run over by a steamroller.

Raking a hand through his hair, Luke paces around the kitchen. “I mean it, Lacey. She can’t have this stress in her life. The doctor’s said it ain’t good for her.”

Lacey’s lips thin and she laughs. A challenging, mocking sound. Fixing her glittery green eyes on Luke, so angry, so different than her sister’s, she says, “What about all your stress, Luke? Or have you even told her yet?”

Pain flashes in Luke’s eyes.

Seth winces.

There’s no point in telling Lacey to cool it. The shattered look on his brother’s face tells him she’s already driven Luke to the edge of pure fury.

At Luke’s silence, Lacey clenches her fist. “You don’t deserve her,” she spits. “You did this to her. You didn’t bring her home. You—”

“You gave up on her!” Luke hurls at Lacey. “Hell, you had a fuckin’ funeral for her. You wanted me to declare her dead.”

Lacey gasps, silver filling her eyes.

“You gonna tell her about that?”

It’s a challenge. All Luke’s got to bargain with, and he’ll do it too if it means protecting Sal.

Lacey squares up with Luke. Her chin juts in defiance. “Only if you tell her about your groupie whore.”

Seth goes as still as death.

It’s the worst thing she could say.

It’s too much for Luke. He’s had enough and he takes a step closer to Lacey. Fire rages in his eyes. His voice turns low and lethal.

“I told you once, I’ll tell you again. I was never—” Luke breaks off, his voice fractured. “I was never unfaithful to Sal.” He fixes a look of fury at his sister-in-law. Lacey’s face reddens. “And to hell with you if you don’t believe that.”

Luke shoves away from Lacey, scrubbing a hand across his face.

Seth’s own heart hangs heavy in his chest. His brother’s been put through the wringer about Alabama—but the person blaming Luke the most is Luke.

That’s when Lacey says, “I want to take her back to California.”

Luke whirls on her. “The hell you are. She is my wife.”

“And she is my sister. My job is to protect her at any cost.” She jabs a finger at Luke. “You’re the cost, Luke. You cost her too much.”

Irritation rankles Seth. He’s pissed off at how the two of them are behaving. Blaming the other for what’s happened, when there’s no one to blame at all.

“You’re both actin’ like a couple of jackasses,” Seth says loudly, and both Lacey and Luke glance his way, surprise etched across their faces. “This is Sal we’re talking about. You love her, we all love her. You’re both tryin’ to do what you think is best for her—but stop thinkin’ of yourselves and think about her. We gotta support her, instead of fightin’ all the damn time.”

Lacey opens her mouth to argue, but Seth steps in. He fixes her with a look that means business. “You say a word to her about Alabama or that baby, and I’ll toss your ass in the Cumberland, Lacey. I swear to Christ.”

Her mouth snaps shut.

Seth turns to stare Luke down. “You too, man. Cool it.”

For a long minute, there’s nothing but silence.

For a long minute, Luke and Lacey regard each other like wary, wounded animals unsure if they want to go back for the jugular.

Then Luke drops his head in shame.

Lacey’s scowling but her eyes are filled with tears.

When Luke raises his face, his eyes are clear. His fists unclench. He looks at Seth and gives him a grateful nod. “You’re right.” His gaze moves to Lacey. “Listen, I don’t like keepin’ secrets from Sal any more than you do, but the doctors want us to minimize stress. She’s sick. She gets dizzy, has migraines.” Luke lifts his eyes to the ceiling, the creak of the wood floors signaling Sal’s on the move. He lowers his voice. “I ain’t riskin’ her health, Lacey. We’ll tell her—but when she’s in a good place. A healthy place.”

“I think what Luke’s trying to say is that she’s fragile.” Seth gives Lacey a pointed look. “And Sal ain’t fragile.”

A pained sound comes from Lacey, who looks like the hard reality of the situation has finally settled around her.

“Was she hurt?” she asks in a small voice. When Luke doesn’t reply, she turns to Seth. Her hands ball into fists, her manicured nails daggers. “Did that monster hurt her, Seth?”

Seth turns away to brace himself against the question. Brace himself against the memories of the scene on the beach—Sal fainting in his arms, the bruises on her throat, the slow wade into the water, the readiness to take her own life.

His throat bobs. “If she wants to tell you, that’s her business, not mine.”

“She doesn’t remember us,” Luke says slowly. He’s treading water—not to mention sanity—with Lacey. “We have to go slow.”

“Well, of course she doesn’t remember,” Lacey sniffs. She steps forward to tug on the end of Luke’s beard. “Go shave, you heathen. She doesn’t even recognize you.”

Luke looks stunned, and Seth has to swallow a laugh.

As if he’s finally remembering how much of a grizzled mountain man he’s turned into, Luke runs a hand across his whiskered jaw. His expression contemplative, concerned.

“She’s right, you know.” Seth arches a brow, peering closely at his brother. “I ain’t so sure Sal’s ever seen you with a beard.”

A moment of stillness, of peace, descends over the kitchen.

“Truce?” Luke offers a hand to Lacey. “We’ll meet in the middle.”

Lacey’s nostrils flare. Instead of shaking Luke’s hand, she tosses her hair. “Fine. But I get to stay at the house.”

Seth groans. The thought of Lacey and all her potions and lotions taking up space already has him on edge. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Deal,” Luke says, ignoring the way Seth’s eyes bore a hole into him. “We keep Sal safe. We help her.”

They shake on it.

For Sal.