It must be the illusion. The evening. Being in front of my family again.
Nothing more.
Tonight was only meant to be a seduction. Pure fantasy. Ivy isn’t meant to see my mess, the cracks in my facade, the grime beneath.
It was never supposed to be about anything real, and yet here she is, defending me to my own brother. And I haven’t even had the pleasure of kissing her.
As Mum pulls Ivy into conversation, I shake the feelings off. Reed has me unsettled, that’s all.
“Where’s Darcy?” I haven’t seen her once tonight, and it’s unlike her to skip an event she planned.
“She’s a little under the weather tonight, so we’re managing it.” My blood runs cold. Darcy being sick is news to me.
“What is it? Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”
Like hell it is. They said the same thing a decade ago when she was rushed to the emergency room, only deigning to tell me days later that we almost lost her.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, typing rapidly. If it’s bad, Darcy might not be able to respond, but I can’t do anything else right now, and I won’t be able to breathe without knowing she’s okay.
Her response is quick and as acerbic as ever.
Darcy: Don’t get your knickers in a knot. FFS it’s just the flu.
The relief is immeasurable.
Me: You better be resting. That means actual vegetables and water.
Darcy: Sure, doc. Would you also like an update when I hit the loo next?
I roll my eyes. She’s definitely okay.
Darcy: Call me tomorrow during daylight hours. And be nice to Reed.
At this, I lock my phone and pocket it again. Even though she’s the youngest, Darcy’s become the glue holding Reed and me together.
It wasn’t always this way. Growing up, we were thick as thieves. But when the divorce happened, he chose Deacon, and I chose dad, and we’ve never been the same since.
“So,” he says, his voice flat, his eyes coasting over my shoulder, the very picture of unbothered. “You’ve moved.” Reed’s accent is polished and clipped to perfection. It grates against the badly healed wound of our relationship.
Nothing’s changed. We are who we’ve always been. Reed, exemplary and reliable. Lincoln, the perennial fuckup.
“I have.”
Titillating conversation, this is. So glad I traveled over an ocean so we could have this little chinwag.
“Does this mean we’ll be seeing you in the office come Monday?” His disappointment is a wider gulf than any ocean could fill.
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“I’m not sure, Lincoln,” he says, his tone sharp with sarcasm. “Perhaps to help someone other than yourself?”
I ball my free hand into a fist at my side. Unbelievable. “I’m not another employee you can boss around. Just because you dragged Mum and Darcy into it?—”
“Grow up,” he interrupts, low and controlled. “Everything I’ve worked for has been to protect our family, and they understand that. Excuse me for thinking that, as part of that family, you would be willing to do more than swan about, wasting your inheritance.”
“Reed,” Mum warns quietly.
