“Yeah, it’s fine.” Luch reached for a tinfoil package. “I wasn’t sure what kind of sandwich you’d like, so I made several.”
“Luch. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” It annoyed me, just a bit, that I’d opened up about my mother and he was going all clench-jawed and quiet about his father. “Tell me about your family. Please.”
“Fine. But tell me what sandwich you like first. I have a tomato and cheese, egg, and tuna salad.”
“Are you vegetarian? I am.”
“I am too!” A grin chased the clouds away from his expression. “But I do eat fish.”
“I’ll take the egg salad. Thanks.” Pleased that I didn’t have to discuss my reasoning for being a vegetarian—it was hard to eat animals when I devoted my life to treating them—and I didn’t like to press my views on anyone else, I happily unwrapped the sandwich.
“My family is … complicated to say the least. I have four brothers, and I’m the youngest. My father is a surgeon, all my brothers are as well, and when I went the comprehensive emergency services route, they were stunned. They’re a tight-knit family, demanding, and the egos are intense. They always think they know what’s best for everyone else, I suppose that’s a casualty of their occupations, but it also makes them difficult partners, friends, and frankly, family members.”
“Ouch,” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich. “That does sound tough. Your mother?”
“A goddamned saint.” Luch sighed, but some of the tension left his face when he spoke of her. “She’s in a wheelchair. From my birth.”
“Oh, Luch, I’m sorry. Was it nerve damage?”
A look I couldn’t decipher crossed Luch’s face, and then he shook his head, his expression clearing.
“Aye, it was. I was a large baby and it was a long labor, twenty-one hours to be exact.”
I’d heard of it, though I wasn’t largely familiar with it. The ins and the outs didn’t matter, just that I could understand why it would be hard for him, particularly in a family that sounded as difficult as his. Was there blame placed on his shoulders for his mum’s injuries?
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She’d chosen a healer for her labor. One that used magick.”
A healer that used magick. Oh.
My eyes tightened at the corners as I forced my emotions down.
“Like a midwife?” I asked, casually, and made myselftake a bite of the sandwich. “Or like someone using crystals and whatnot?”
“Something like that.”
The air felt heavy between us, and I wasn’t sure how to navigate going forward.
“Your father? He wasn’t able to assist?”
“He wasn’t at my birth.”
“Ah.” Again, I wasn’t sure how to swim through the undercurrents of what he was telling me, so I just took another bite and sat in silence. I often found that saying nothing prompted the other person to continue speaking and save me from saying anything that could cause distress, or in this case, be potentially harmful to me.
The reality was, if his mum used any type of healer that professed to use magick to help during labor—and it had gone wrong—Luch’s opinion of non-traditional healers would be horrible forever. Particularly coming from a family who dedicated themselves to modern medicine.
It didn’t matter if the man kissed like a god, there was no path forward for us.
I could never be honest with him about who I was.
And he blames healers forever for harming his mum.
This relationship was dead in the water before it started.
And even though there’s a pinch of disappointment, I was glad to know that now before I became too invested in Luch.
“I love my mum.” His voice cracked as he looked out over the loch. “Fiercely. But I also had to leave them behind to start fresh. It was … they are … too much. Too many rules. Too controlling. I can’t, no, I won’t, follow in what they believe to be right.”
