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“You’ve already forgotten about him, and you feel guilty for that too.”

Oh. My God. Was he serious?

“Or should have, at least,” he clarified, making the offending statement marginally better, but still . . . “I’m sorry. This isn’t a conversation we should be having right now—”

“Oh no,” she snapped. “You started it, and you will finish it.”

Toni felt like her chest was going to explode.

Lawrence at least had the decency to look chagrined.

“You blame yourself for your parents’ death,” he forged ahead, “and I blame myself for getting my brother killed. I get it, Toni. More than you can ever imagine.”

Not wanting to think of the crash, of that night, she focused on what he’d said about his brother.

“But your brother died in battle—”

“No, he didn’t.”

Lawrence didn’t elaborate. Thinking back quickly, Toni tried to remember what Alessandra had said about Kenton and Lawrence, and why they’d hated each other for so many years. By her account, it had all begun when Alec, Lawrence’s older brother, had died in battle, something the Derricksons blamed on Kenton’s family. The feud had kicked up a notch when the English earl, Kenton’s father, refused to pay bloodwite for his death.

“But—”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. About Alec. Or your parents.” He ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. She could practically feel him withdrawing. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you back to your friends—”

“Wait.” This time it was she who stopped them. “Tell me.”

Something told her that if she walked away from him now, he might never open up to her again . . . and she didn’t want that.

“There’s nothing to tell. Come on—”

“Lawrence.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago—”

“Clearly,” she said, smiling despite her temper. “Given the circumstances.”

Cocking his head to the side as if evaluating her again, he said, “It happened after the battle. I should have been with him, but we thought the worst was over. A truce had been called . . .”

Lawrence closed his eyes for the briefest of moments before opening them again. When he looked at her, his expression was so raw she almost didn’t want to hear the rest, despite the fact that she’d pressed him.

“I left him unprotected—”

“But he was your older brother. Wasn’t it his job to protect you?”

Lawrence shook his head. “My brother was second to the chief. My place was by his side.”

Maybe it was all the medieval jargon, but she didn’t understand. “But—”

“It was a long time ago,” he repeated. But she could tell that didn’t matter. And he was right, they did have something in common.

For her, that phone call could have occurred just yesterday . . .

“Come on.” This time, he didn’t give her a chance to protest. Taking her hand, Lawrence led her from the entrance of the alley back onto Main Street.

Which was exactly how Tyler found them.

Hands clasped, emerging from the shadows like two lovers.

And then Tyler swung.