Mum has already texted me back, telling me she hopes I feel better soon. Nate has texted me, too, to say he’s sorry again—but it’s not me he should be telling—and Dad has asked that I go easy on my brother... It’s Christmas after all.
Go easy? Like hell. And I’m angry at him too. Angry because he should have seen the truth. He should have sided with Lucas and made Nate take responsibility for his actions.
What? Like you did when the fight broke out?
I squeeze my eyes tight against the memory. I hardly sided with Lucas. In fact I tried to kick them both out. The heat of the moment and divided loyalties made it impossible to think straight. Maybe it was similar for Dad.
But Lucas did no wrong. In either case.
I drop into my chair and take up my mobile. It’s time I called him—screw my nerves... I need him, and I need to apologise.
I dial his number and he picks up in two rings.
‘Evangeline.’
His voice is gruff, as if he’s been drinking, and my heart squeezes in my chest. ‘Hi...’ I swallow past the wedge forming in my throat. ‘I’m sorry I kicked you out.’
His breath shudders down the phone. ‘I guess I can’t blame you after that showdown.’
‘No... Dad arrived after you left.’
‘He did?’
‘Yeah...’ I trail off, working out how to phrase what I want to ask and realise I just need to come out with it. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Nate asked you to plough your own money into the business?’
‘He brought that up, did he?’
‘You could have told me.’
‘It doesn’t really change anything.’
‘It does to Nate.’
‘You sound like you agree with him.’
‘No!’ I rush out, hating his defensive tone.
‘Look, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t trust him not to lose it again. Every time something happened he’d always throw your family’s investment at me—tell me I’d be nowhere without them. He was so quick to lay that on me, so quick to remind me that I’m an outsider, not one of you. Let’s face it, I was never going to be free of that guilt trip. I knew I’d always be beholden no matter what happened.’
‘You don’t need to defend yourself to me, Lucas. I get it.’
And I do—my heart swells for him and all he’s been through. All he went through today too—for which I’m partly to blame.
‘How’s your hand?’
He gives a hoarse laugh. ‘I can land a punch just fine. More importantly, how’s your face?’
I can hear his concern and it makes me want to cry. Tears burn the back of my throat. I wish he was here with me. I should’ve driven to his place rather than hidden like this.
‘Eva?’
‘It’s fine—or it will be soon enough.’
‘You shouldn’t have got involved. When you went down like that—’
He breaks off, his breath shuddering once more.
‘Well, next time I promise to stay well clear—you’re on your own.’