Chapter 5

The keys jingled musically in the palm of his hand as Luis rifled through them, searching for and finally finding the one that would admit him to his apartment. Stomping his boots free of the wintry mixture of snow and slush on the threshold, he stepped inside, dousing the entire area with weak yellow light with one flick of a switch.

Shrugging his leather jacket from his shoulders, Luis tossed it casually across the back of the shabby overstuffed sofa in the living room, placed his briefcase amidst the pillows, and picked up the remote control. Shadows flickered across the wall behind him, and the voice of the local meteorologist forecasting yet more snow followed him into the small but functional kitchen.

His keys clattered against the formica, and the clock on the wall clicked steadily along as he paused in front of the refrigerator, skimming over the message scrawled across the yellow lined paper tacked there. Tracing over his mother's penmanship with his fingertips, Luis made a mental note to call her first thing in the morning and thank her for her efforts in not letting him starve—as she claimed all bachelors did without good women to take care of them. The thought made him simultaneously smile and shake his head. Though Mama would deny it with her dying breath, she was just as much a romantic at heart as Theresa. He fervently hoped she didn't find out about Sheridan, her status as a Crane notwithstanding.

Tugging his shirt from his pants, Luis absently unbuttoned it as he headed down the hall to his bedroom. His day had been long and every muscle in his body was still tense—just being in the room with Sheridan again after all these years wrought havoc on his senses; a hot shower was calling his name.

After stripping to his boxers, Luis padded into the bathroom, the tile cool beneath his bare feet. He twisted the taps, and the pipes gave an answering groan then gurgle as water first spurted weakly from the shower head then gained pressure and heat, steam slowly filling the room.

The water felt good as it beat over his shoulder blades and sluiced down his back. He braced his forearms against the grouted tile, letting it massage the knots from his muscles. He stayed that way until the temperature began to cool then he hurriedly washed the grit of the day away with a soapy rag and turned the water off.

Luis snagged a white towel from the linen closet on his way back into his bedroom and knotted it around his waist. He pulled a gray tee-shirt and a fresh set of boxers from his dresser, donned them, and returned to the living room.

Settling back against the collection of boldly colored pillows Theresa had insisted were a must-have when he'd moved into the apartment a few short months ago, Luis propped his feet upon the coffee table and reached for his briefcase. Pulling out Sheridan's file, he slid a pair of wire-framed glasses over his nose and began to read it again, piecing together the words and faces with the details she'd given him over dinner.

Beside Alistair Crane, Richard Grant was the closest thing to a business tycoon to be had in Harmony. Powerful in his own right, he'd only strengthened his holdings and connections when he'd merged his interests with those of Crane Industries and married Sheridan almost four years ago—a woman more than twenty years younger than him.

Removing his laptop from his briefcase, Luis placed it in his lap and waited for an internet connection to be established while he flipped once more through the glossy photographs Sheridan had supplied, studying them more closely this time.

Husband and wife made a handsome but unlikely couple, Sheridan seeming more like a young daughter in most of the pictures. The smiles were there, in the photos resting in his hands, in the photos splashed across society magazines and newspapers generated by his internet search, but, Luis discovered with sinking clarity, the emotions did not ring true.

In all of the pictures, save the pictures that weren't posed—the snapshots of just Sheridan and the children, their eyes told the story Sheridan had only hinted at while nervously picking at her food in the Lobster Shack. Richard Grant's eyes were as dark and fathomless as a black hole, devoid of human emotion, cold. Sheridan's eyes were clouded with the sadness Luis still recalled so well.

Taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly, Luis allowed himself a moment to revisit his first meeting with Sheridan.

In Boston for a conference, he'd met up with an old friend from law school and accepted an invitation to catch up at a pricy restaurant in one of the more affluent sections of town, unable in his pride to admit to his own struggles as a fledgling lawyer in a town full of established names in the face of his friend's success. He'd overspent his budget on a meal that couldn't hold a candle to his mama's cooking and made his excuses to leave when he passed her table on the way.

Closing his eyes, Luis remembered the tears on her face and the surprise she couldn't hide when he asked her what was wrong. And the sadness he'd worked so hard to banish from her blue eyes as they talked into the early hours of the morning, sadness, he realized with a pang of dismay, he still found himself wanting to erase three years later.

Logging off the internet with a sigh, Luis turned his laptop off and placed it onto the coffee table. Resting his hands on his knees, he stared at the muted figures on the television while his conscience and his heart waged war between themselves.

The last time he'd answered the call of those blue eyes had been costly; this time promised to be that and more. Was he strong enough to see this through?

Glancing over his shoulder at the two innocent faces smiling up at him, Luis realized his strength wasn't the issue here, the feelings for Sheridan he couldn't completely bury weren't the issue here, and he was filled with renewed sense of determination.

If Richard Grant wanted a fight, Luis would give him a fight like he'd never seen before.

The children were counting on him.

Anybody still reading this?

Inspiration on this fic is hard to come by, and I've been stuck in a rut whenever attempting new chapters, so I was wondering if anyone is truly reading this fic anymore.

I want to finish the fic (I want to finish all my fics), but I don't know...

If interest in this one is completely dead, I may just leave the chapters I've finished posted here and put it on permanent backburner. I actually have the next several chapters for this story outlined but have been unable to find the motivation to eek them out.

Sigh.

Thoughts?

Anyway, thanks for reading (if you actually still are, lol), and remember, feedback is loved and adored.