“I don’t think of myself as a woman who needs taking care of, but everybody needs someone in their lives who makes them feel safe, who makes them feel like they’re not alone and who makes them feel important.” She crossed the distance between them, resting her hand on his arm. “You are that person for me, and for all of us. No matter if we’re here or on a film shoot or fuck knows where,” she said wryly, referring to Brodan and Arran, “knowing our big brother is always there for us, is always our safe harbor, is always the one who cares, it makes all the hard days so much easier.”
Emotion clogged his throat. “Christ, Arro.” He grabbed at her hand, curling it into his chest.
“I know what happened has affected you more than any of us can understand … but I never want you to doubt the man you are. You are a man confident in who you are, the good you have in you, the things that are important to you, and the things you are capable of. Don’t lose that. You’re my hero, Lachlan Adair, and I defy anybody to say otherwise.”
Chest aching with his sister’s words, Lachlan tugged at her hand. “What if … what if she left me because I’m not that person for her?”
Arrochar shook her head. “Do you honestly believe that’s who Robyn is? That she would think that of you?”
Swimming against the tide of the dark insecurities Lucy’s betrayal had stirred, Lachlan pushed them aside and found the truth. Arro was right. That wasn’t who Robyn was. “Then why did she leave?”
“Probably—and I say this with as much gentleness as I can because I love you and don’t want to hurt you—because you let her leave without a fight.”
He flinched.
“Words don’t mean anything, Lachlan. I think we both know Robyn respects action over words. You can tell her that you love her until you’re blue in the face … but until you actually get up off your arse and show her what she means to you … she’s never going to believe you.”
His numbness had slowly thawed over the last few minutes, and now he felt it fall away entirely. Pulling his sister into his embrace, he hugged her hard. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“It’s just payback, big brother,” she whispered. “Time for us to have your back”—his sister eased from his arms and grinned up at him—“while you go after what you want.”
40
Robyn
Sitting on my parents’ back porch, I watched Mom as she pottered around in her garden. Their house was a small colonial revival in Dorchester. Regan and I grew up here and cursed the nineteenth-century aging beauty for being cold in the winter, for having wobbly floorboards, and for generally being a pain in the ass because Seth was always having to do something to it.
But we loved it. Coming home to the blue-and-white house was nice. It was weird to be living at home again, but so far it was good. Knowing it was only temporary helped a lot. Mom and Seth graciously offered up my old room when my landlord announced a week after my arrival that my lease was up in two weeks and he wasn’t renewing it. Jaz and Autry offered me a spot on their couch, but my old bedroom was a much better solution.
Though I loved hanging out with them. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed them all. In fact, I’d just come from a morning of soft play with Jaz. The girls were great, but an afternoon of peaceful chill-out time on my parents’ porch was exactly what I needed after a raucous, chaotic morning.
Feeling Seth’s eyes on me, I glanced to my right where he sat on the other porch seat, sipping a cold beer.
My stepfather was of Cornish stock, thus the name Penhaligon, and a prime example that my mom had a type. Although not as tall as Mac—because who was—Seth was six two and broad-shouldered with rugged, handsome features, chestnut eyes, and thick hair that was once a copper red but was now faded through with gray. When he smiled, dimples creased each cheek, and to my everlasting envy, he’d given those dimples to Regan. Seth was ten years older than Mac and looked his age in a way my father didn’t. But he still had that big, commanding presence and sense of capability that always made me feel safe growing up.
“What are the plans now, darlin’?” Seth asked.
I shrugged. “Hang around for a while. Get all my preorders mailed out. And then I’m going to travel for a bit.”
He nodded, but there was a little furrow between his brows. “You’ll keep in touch while you travel, right?”
I’d known from the moment I’d come home that Regan’s behavior was affecting my stepfather more than he let on. He was unusually quiet, stuck in his own head, and clearly worried sick about my little sister. I could kill her. Despite Mom’s assurance she and Seth would deal with Regan, I’d tried calling her every day, to no avail.
“Of course, I will.”
He nodded again but looked away, taking another sip of his beer.
Feeling more than a pang of guilt for being so distant while I was in Scotland, I reached over and curled my hand around his arm. Seth looked at me. “Things were crazy in Scotland and I was going through a lot, but I promise to keep in touch while I travel.”
My stepfather patted my hand. “I know.”
Despite what I’d found with Mac, a natural bond that I was immensely grateful for because it completed a part of me I didn’t know was missing, I realized I would never give up what I had with Seth. I also realized I had never made that clear. “You know I love you, right?”
He gave me a curious look—we weren’t the type of people to throw “I love you” around. It was just implicit.
