“Lay down,” he orders when I can barely keep me eyes open. “You’ll stay here tonight, then I’ll check if there’s a room free for you to take from tomorrow.”
“I can’t afford—”
“Shh.” I’m so close to sleep that when he slips onto the bed behind me, I barely stir. “You don’t need to worry about money. I’ve got more than enough to cover one tiny female.”
I think I fall asleep while I’m trying to think of an answer.When I formulate a response, he’s lying in a different position. “It feels like I’m using you.”
It’s not quite what I mean, but it’s the gist of it. My internal ledger is now weighted so far in the red that I don’t know how I can ever get it back into balance. Not just the money, though that’s the most obvious. It’s all the little things.
That he stands up for me, has my back. He takes better care of me than my family. Forces his circle wider to let me join.
He chuckles into my neck, curling an arm more firmly around my waist. “You are. It’s okay to do that, George. We’re friends. That’s what friends do for each other.”
Is it? Is this companionship and support something other people take for granted?
My shoulders shake. No tears but I can’t stop trembling, even as he strokes my back, easing me towards sleep.
“He’s not getting better, is he?”
His voice is kind, but the truth isn’t. “Probably not.”
And I have a sudden need to explain. To justify my affection even if it’s obvious he’s not the best dad in the world.
“He used to be so different. Back when Mum was alive. I just want him to go back to normal.”
Lachlan touches his forehead to mine. “Yeah. Your father really is shit.”
The brutal honesty is such a relief, I laugh. “Says the only son of the devil.”
“Creighton wishes he was the devil.”
I’m silent for a few minutes, then stir again. “You’re the only person I can talk to about this. Because you know about him.”
His breath is hot against my neck. It sends a pleasant wave of tingles shooting down my spine. “Yeah, I know far more than I want to about having an abusive father.”
“He’s not abusive.”
“When I walked in tonight, you were on top of him, protecting him from the armed assailant he owes money to.” The soft tone he uses is so opposite to his words. “What else do you call that if not abuse?”
“How…?” I start then have to clear my throat. My thoughts are hard to corral; it takes time to put them in order. While I wait, I draw small circles on the back of Lachlan’s hand. He doesn’t seem to mind. Doesn’t pull away. “How does your father abuse you?”
He stiffens but doesn’t answer. If I were fully awake, I might feel ashamed, but I’m too relaxed to care much about what I’m saying. Still wanting an answer, wanting to give him the same opportunity to confess as he’s given me, I try a different tack. “When he gave me the lift home, Patrick said you only joined the family recently.”
“Oh, did he?” he shifts his weight, rolling onto his back and tucking me more closely into his side. “Nice of him to spill all my secrets.”
“Is that why you don’t get on?”
He frowns at the ceiling. “He wants our relationship to be combative. If I didn’t fight him at every turn, he’d just assume I wasn’t cut out for the role and move on to the next in line.”
“Did you have much to do with him before?”
“Nah. It was just me and my mum, being part of the rabble.”
“Hey!” I poke him in the side, my hand immediately returning to its new home on his chest.
My indignation makes him laugh. “Don’t blame me. You’re the one who self-identified with that statement.”
When I look up at him, he moves away the few hairs clinging to the side of my mouth. “Does he hurt you?”
