“Can we talk?”
Lucky’s expression is strained.It pinches under my skin, the sight of it, ill-fitting and unfair.He’s hurt, and I need to do something about it.Find who did it.Make them apologize.
Reach out and make the pain go away.
“Now’s not a good time.”
“Okay.Look, uh …” And Sterling does something I’ve never seen him do—he pauses.
This is not a man who is without words.They’re his livelihood.But right here, right now, Lachlan—and whatever history they have—has taken them.
“I wanted to—” He cuts himself off, no longer looking at Lucky, but at me.There’s a flicker of surprise and … something else I don’t catch before it’s gone.
Lachlan shoves a hand in his pocket, drops eye contact.“Mia and I were just on our way.”
“Lucky …” Sterling takes a step forward, reaching for him but pulling back before they touch.
Oh.Oh.Well, that would explain why none of the girls at work have ever been able to score a date with him.Except Lachlan has done nothing but flirt with me all morning, so maybe this isn’t as cut and dry as I think.
“Don’t worry about me,” I say because it’s clear there’s something here they need to talk about and it won’t happen if I’m around.“I promise not to start any fires.”
For all his earlier joking, Lachlan can be intense when he wants to be.As we stand together in the cramped hallway, his eyes locked on mine, I have the urge to cover up somehow, like he’s seeing everything I’m feeling lit up in neon.
“No, I think I will worry.So sorry, love, but you’re going to have to come with me.”He looks at Sterling.“You too, it seems.”
This will be interesting.
* * *
Lucky is sprawled in the center of his sofa, arms and knees wide, looking like lord of the manor.“Aww, Mac’s gone shy.”
Sterling, who is brooding by the window, huffs out a breath like this isn’t a new accusation and he’s going to humor Lucky, which is not something I thought he was capable of.
But he’s a man who calculates his exits, and right now, he’s standing as far from the door as possible.He wants to be here.He just doesn’t really like it.
“Maybe I don’t always have to fill every silence.”
“No?”Lucky asks, a smile pulling at his mouth.“Is there anything you do want to fill?”
“Stop,” Sterling commands, but it’s marbled with fondness.
Lucky’s apartment is an extension of the man himself—aesthetically pleasing, surprisingly warm, and brimming with curiosity.There are more records than I can count, separated by genre tabs with labels likeEardrum DestroyersandWarning: Will induce imposter syndrome.The kitchen looks professional, full of cast iron and stainless steel that Ma would drool over.
It resembles a showroom, but there are small touches—a dish towel by the sink, a couple of spice jars left by the stove—that prove it’s a hub of contentment.
Not that there’s much of it in the air right now.Lucky is putting on a good show—I’ll give him that—but he can’t go five seconds without glancing at the line of Sterling’s back.
I take a seat in the armchair across from him.“What happened between you two?”I direct the question at Lucky—because of the two of them, he’s more likely to spill the goods.
“Oh, just your classic tale of a daft kid getting a crush on the strong and silent guy from across the pond, becoming best mates with him, and accepting that’s all they’d ever be, only for this guy to crush his heart and run off forever.”
“Jesus, Lachlan, could you be more dramatic?”
Lucky leans back, crossing his arms over his chest with a pained smile.“How would you tell it then?You kissed me, if you’ve forgotten.”
“I remember every second.”
The smile drops off Lucky’s face.The only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall.
