He didn’t answer.
“I was ten, and it was the school Christmas dance. Shannon Wright slowly turned our group of friends against me. Sniffing at me like I smelled of BO, telling people she’d seen lice in my hair … stupid mean-girl stuff that was way worse for me in primary school than it ever was in high school.”
“She was jealous of you.”
“I didn’t know that then, though. And back then, it was the end of the bloody world. I didn’t want to go to the dance, but Dad said I had to because it was the Christmas ceilidh and as leading members of the community, the Adairs always had to represent. Like I knew what that meant at ten.” She smirked.
Lachlan’s lips quirked. He remembered his father giving him the same speech throughout his childhood.
“I was crying in my room that day,” Arrochar went on. “And you came in and found me and asked me what was wrong. I told you about Shannon and about Dad making me go, even though everyone hated me. And you, a seventeen-year-old boy, broke off a date to escort me to the dance.” Her eyes brightened with sentiment. “I walked in there with my big, handsome brother, and they all thought it was so cool that you came for me, that I had a brother like you. All my friends had mega crushes on you, and you were nice to them for me, even though they’d been horrible because you knew I just wanted things back to normal. Shannon was completely forgotten.
“And there’s more. When Dad died, I couldn’t get watching him die out of my head. And it was you who pulled me out of that black hole, Lachlan. You wouldn’t leave my side. You reminded me every day that I wasn’t alone. My big brother always coming to my rescue. Whether it was a stupid wee school dance or when I was in the darkest place of my life—or when I was ashamed because a man I trusted hit me.
“I don’t think of myself as a woman who needs taking care of, but everybody needs someone in their lives who makes them feel safe, who makes them feel like they’re not alone and who makes them feel important.” She crossed the distance between them, resting her hand on his arm. “You are that person for me, and for all of us. No matter if we’re here or on a film shoot or fuck knows where,” she said wryly, referring to Brodan and Arran, “knowing our big brother is always there for us, is always our safe harbor, is always the one who cares, it makes all the hard days so much easier.”
Emotion clogged his throat. “Christ, Arro.” He grabbed at her hand, curling it into his chest.
“I know what happened has affected you more than any of us can understand … but I never want you to doubt the man you are. You are a man confident in who you are, the good you have in you, the things that are important to you, and the things you are capable of. Don’t lose that. You’re my hero, Lachlan Adair, and I defy anybody to say otherwise.”
Chest aching with his sister’s words, Lachlan tugged at her hand. “What if … what if she left me because I’m not that person for her?”
Arrochar shook her head. “Do you honestly believe that’s who Robyn is? That she would think that of you?”
Swimming against the tide of the dark insecurities Lucy’s betrayal had stirred, Lachlan pushed them aside and found the truth. Arro was right. That wasn’t who Robyn was. “Then why did she leave?”
“Probably—and I say this with as much gentleness as I can because I love you and don’t want to hurt you—because you let her leave without a fight.”
He flinched.
“Words don’t mean anything, Lachlan. I think we both know Robyn respects action over words. You can tell her that you love her until you’re blue in the face … but until you actually get up off your arse and show her what she means to you … she’s never going to believe you.”
His numbness had slowly thawed over the last few minutes, and now he felt it fall away entirely. Pulling his sister into his embrace, he hugged her hard. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“It’s just payback, big brother,” she whispered. “Time for us to have your back”—his sister eased from his arms and grinned up at him—“while you go after what you want.”
40
Robyn
Sitting on my parents’ back porch, I watched Mom as she pottered around in her garden. Their house was a small colonial revival in Dorchester. Regan and I grew up here and cursed the nineteenth-century aging beauty for being cold in the winter, for having wobbly floorboards, and for generally being a pain in the ass because Seth was always having to do something to it.