His head falls to one side against his shoulder. He’s repeatedly chewing on his bottom lip and, is he blushing? He glances up to meet my eyes briefly, then down, so I place my hand over his across the table again. “Is everything okay?”
“You promise not to be mad.”
I’m confused. “Why would I be mad? What’s going on?” My mind runs away with itself. “Oh shit, Ash isn’t here, is he?”
“Err, no. He’s a couple of weeks into a tour, you know that.”
Then why did a little piece of me deflate, despite knowing he was away. I’ve got to snap out of it. This conversation isn’t about me anymore and I’m sure Scott is sick to death of listening to me moaning. I’m sure he has something far more important to share. “What’s up?” I smile so he knows nothing he can say will upset me.
He shifts in his seat. “It’s strange. Now I know for sure that you’re my sister, it makes what I’m about to say, so much harder.”
I rub my hand over his knuckles. “Come on, you can tell me.” Then a thought jumps into my head. “Oh shit, you’renot having an affair with a married woman or something, are you? Because I?—”
“It’s Angie.”
“My Angie?” I ask.
“Is there another?”
I smirk. “No, there certainly isn’t. What about her? Is she okay?”
“Fuck…”
I’m worried. “What’s going on, Scott, talk to me.”
The words seem to blurt involuntarily from his mouth. “I slept with her.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CALLA
I’m stunned.Gobsmacked, even.
“You did what?”
“I’m sorry, Calla, but yeah, we slept together.”
I shake my head, slightly bewildered. “When?”
“The Saturday night of Brae Fest—after the band played and you left with Ash. We both had too much to drink and?—”
“And you took advantage of her?”
“Oh, thanks for thinking so highly of me, Calla.”
I’ve annoyed him. “Shit, that came out wrong.”
“Good, because we were both up for it.”
“Then how—actually, I don’t need the intimate details, just the run-up.” I rub at my sore eyes.
“It just happened. Angie was upset about the way Tommy had treated her and my ear was there to bend. At first, I’m sure she just wanted a comforting arm, then one thing led to another?—”
“I get the picture.” I rub my forehead. “What I don’t get is why you? And before you start, I mean, you always hated each other, at least, it seemed that way.”
“Angie is so much more… approachable when she’s drunk,” Scott says with a lopsided grin.
“I don’t know what to say.”
