14. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Feet and Family
“I was looking at your photos," she said, gesturing to the wall behind him. "You look like such a loving family.” He looked back over his shoulder at the photos. They were a loving family. They are a loving family , he corrected in his mind, despite the troubles they’d all been through. Troubles they were still going through. There was always love.
“Aye,” he said wearily.
“You were close growing up?” she hedged.
“We were. Very close. We fought as every sibling does, but there was much love.” He smiled nostalgically. It was true. They'd always been close, and despite the estrangement with Drew, he still believed the bond that tied them together as a family remained.
“I realize something must have happened between you and Drew, but what about your sisters? And I see you have a twin brother too. Are you still close with them?”
Lachlan was surprised that this woman he barely knew would ask him such personal questions, and yet, strangely, he didn't mind it. He was generally leery of people trying to dig into his personal matters. Being from a wealthy family, there were people who tried to get close to him for their own personal gain, but this— This was very different. He didn't know what it was about her, but he felt at ease in her presence like he could take off his wealthy businessman’s coat of armour and just be himself. Maybe it was because she was unapologetically herself, pure and authentic—an intoxicating combination. In Lachlan's experience, people weren't always so genuine. There was a lot of smoke and mirrors in his world. Something deep in him knew the lass sitting across from him was as pure and real as it got—a rarity.
Still, he never spoke about his family matters with anyone other than family. It struck him just how tempting it was to talk with Violet Munro. Really talk with her. Maybe it was to do with the events of last eve together, but something made him feel he could speak openly with her without fear of it coming back to haunt him.
Lachlan stood and walked over to the photos, looking at them. Remembering. Rolling the amber liquid in his glass, he took a sip.
“My older sister, Helena, she and I were very close growing up. We were very similar and always had a bond.” He took in a deep breath, and it lumbered out heavily. It was never easy to talk about. “Helena died. In a riding accident. We were racing, and her horse caught his hoof in some low branches. She was thrown, and her neck broke.” His voice wavered, and he stopped to fight back the tears that threatened. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he added, “It was quick, and thankfully, she didnae suffer.”
“Oh, God, Lachlan, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must be.” The lass wore her heart on her sleeve. She’d gotten up to stand by him. Her nearness was both alarming and comforting to him.
“Aye. It’s been thirteen years, but the ache is still there. I miss her.” He cleared his throat and stepped away from the photos—and away from the woman whose heat wreaked havoc on his senses even though she hadn't even touched him.
“I’m sure. I don’t think you ever stop missing someone you love.”
“No, that’s true. Ye learn, somehow, to live without them,” Lachlan said as he sat back down on the safe-distance-away settee.
Violet had settled herself back on the settee across from him, and he was oddly grateful for the oversized quartz coffee table barrier between them. The sky had turned dark through the windows behind her as day turned to night.
“Drew hasnae forgiven me, though,” he said, surprising himself at the confession.
“What?” Her brows knit together in confusion. “Hasn’t forgiven you for what?”
Lachlan shrugged. “He blames me for Helena's death." He glanced up to gauge her reaction.
She sat still, listening intently. There was no judgment on her pretty features, only a sadness etched around the corners of her eyes. "He thinks I should huv done something or that I shouldnae huv let her ride that day. I dinnae ken, exactly. I do ken that I’d give anything to huv her back, though.”
“I'm sure you'd take her back in a heartbeat, but how could you have done anything to prevent what happened? It’s not your fault,” Violet said softly.
It was a bold proclamation for a lass that barely knew him, and despite the pain of it, he liked her all the more for it. Lachlan smiled sadly. “Well, according to Drew, it is. I was the one riding with her. It was because of me we were racing. If we hadnae, she would still be here.” Those were realities he'd grappled with every day since the accident.
“Oh, Lachlan.” She came over to sit beside him and laid her hand on his.
He was far too aware of the warmth of her slender fingers laying across the back of his hand, gently squeezing.
Looking him in the eye, she asked, “Do you believe that?”
He was silent for a moment. Most people tried to comfort him and reassure him that Helena's death was an accident and not his fault. There was always pity in their eyes, but he knew they meant well. Had anyone ever asked him what he thought? It shook him to realize that no one ever had. They only ever told him what they thought. A borage of opinions and words. This was the first time he'd been asked what he thought, and it threw him off. But as he sat there, with her hand on his, he knew exactly what he thought even though he'd never spoken it—he knew the truth.
Swallowing hard, he said, “Aye, for a time I did. I blamed myself. Guilt ate at me. The what-ifs gave me nightmares.”
Violet sat quietly beside him, listening intently without judgment. He was almost waiting for her to jump in with her pity or well-meaning advice, but the lass just listened. Perhaps that was why he found himself speaking freely.
“I was riding one day a few months after Helena’s accident. And it struck me that I was actually enjoying the ride. I wasn't just going through the motions, but the pleasure of riding came back to me. I was so aware, and it was like a peace settled over me. I felt good. For the first time in months, I felt good. And it came to me. I knew my sister, and she loved riding even more than I did. Nothing would have stopped her from riding that day. Nothing. She rode rain or shine. Why would that day huv been any different?"
The more Lachlan spoke his thoughts out loud, the more free he felt, and the words continued in a rush. "It was a freak accident. A terrible, terrible accident. It was horrendous, and God, I wish with everything in me that it hadn't happened. For so long, I wished we hadnae gone riding that day. And yet, I knew— I know,” he corrected, “Helena was happy on her horse that day, like every other day. She wanted to be riding. Being on her horse with the wind whipping through her hair made her feel alive. Some people die and never know what it's like to truly feel alive, but my sister knew. And that brings me comfort somehow. I ken nothing could change what happened that day.”
Lachlan ran his forearm across his wet eyes. “After that day, I ken in my bones, what had happened wasnae my fault. It was nobody’s fault. It was a tragic accident.”
Violet's smile was soft on him, and he could see the unshed tears in her eyes as well, making them impossibly green. “Thank you for telling me.” Her voice was gentle and soothing like a balm on his soul. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I’m so glad you found peace. She sounds like she was a free spirit.”
“Aye, she was, and I realize how lucky I am to have spent time with her—to huv had her in my life. Even our last ride together. I’m even grateful for that. I feel privileged to have seen her last moments of pure joy on this earth.”
A tear slipped down Violet’s cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. “That is a beautiful perspective.” Her voice was a whisper.
Lachlan let his whisky roll over his tongue. Helena would have liked Violet. From what he'd seen of the lass, she was a free spirit, too. It still surprised him how easy it was to open up to her and lay his deepest thoughts bare. Three months of dating Anna with the tentative plans of moving in together, and he hadn’t once spoken about the day Helena died with her. Twenty-four tumultuous hours since meeting Violet Munro, and he was bletherin' away like he was on a daytime talk show with Oprah Winfrey. He would have suspected that talking about his family would be akin to pouring cask-strength whisky on an open wound, but to the contrary, he felt calm, almost like a weight had been lifted. He'd carried his thoughts for so long. It felt good to finally set them free.
Stealing a look at the woman sitting beside him, he again wondered about the strange connection that seemed to flow invisibly between them. That connection must have bloomed due to the circumstances of last night, but still, it was interesting how he felt when he looked at her. Like he wanted her to know everything there was to know about him, and he wanted to unravel every little mystery of her.
“What about your other sister? Are you still close?” Violet pulled him from his reverie.
“Aye, we are, thank God. She’s the baby in the family. Heart of gold, that one, and a little spitfire too. Orlagh. Helena had called her Rolo since she was a baby. And after a while, we all started to call her by it. Before Helena died, she'd roll her eyes at us when we called her that, but since, it's like she wears the name proudly. She was only twelve when Helena died. It was hard-on all of us, but Rolo looked up to Helena so much. We all did, but I think being the only other lass in the family, she idolized Helena. It was really hard to see her so heartbroken.” His sister's pain felt almost worse to him than his own. He remembered wishing he could take the pain for both of them. Like if he could only carry her burden, he would.
“I can’t imagine.” Violet’s eyes glistened with tears.
“Anyway, we got through, I suppose. We are all close,” Lachlan felt a familiar heavy ache settle in his chest, “except for Drew.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “In some ways, I think he took Helena’s death the hardest.”
“What makes you think that?”
Lachlan didn’t really have an answer. “Drew was thirteen when the accident happened. I think maybe it was his age. Our poor mam, she thought she’d had a hard time with my twin, Alex—he was a dare devil. My da swears he is the reason for his white hair, but Drew? Drew was a rebel. Always trying everything from smoking to drinking to sex. He was always playing in various bands with his friends—which was sometimes a good thing—but trouble always seemed to find him.”
Slipping her hand from his and moving to lean back against the arm of the tuxedo sofa. Her knees bent up, and her bare feet settled mere inches from his thigh. If it had been anyone else’s feet, he’d throw a pillow over top so he didn’t have to look at them, but with Violet’s, he had to fight the urge not to pull them onto his lap. And slowly slide his thumb along the hollows of each feminine arch. Christ Mackenzie , he chided himself inwardly and lifted his gaze to the darkness outside so he could focus his thoughts.
“Your brother played in music bands?” she asked, blissfully unaware of his unruly musings.
"Aye, there was barely a day that went by when there wasn't a racket in the garage. When Helena died, it was like Drew cut himself off from all of us. He was just with his friends, and a lot of them were absolute shite disturbers.”
Violet’s chuckle drew his attention. Her apple cheeks were rosy, perhaps from the whisky. “Sorry,” she grinned, “didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Shite disturbers,” she said in a mock serious tone, urging him to continue.
Feeling his lips tug in a smile, he carried on. “Aye, shite disturbers. I dinnae ken. It’s like Drew just got swept away into a different world. There were various bandmates over the years, but also he seemed to always hang out with some real arseholes.”
“Got it, shit disturbers and arseholes. That can’t be good.” She bit her lip, clearly trying to stifle a giggle.
Cheeky lass. Christ, he liked her teasing, though. “This is a serious story,” he admonished with an arched brow.
“I’m sorry,” she said soberingly as she repositioned her long, slim denim-clad legs to sit cross-legged, and he regretted her feet sliding away from him.
“Och, lass, yer showing yer Canadian again,” Lachlan teased, and the smile she gave him made his heart stutter. Damn.
“Tell me what happened with Drew,” she coaxed with her throaty honey voice.
Lachlan stretched his arms over the length of the settee and crooked one arm to take a fortifying sip of his whisky. “Drew had less and less to do with us, and then about two years ago, he just up and left without a word. After a few days, he messaged Orlagh to say he was gone and for us to not bother trying to find him. He’d find us if and when he was ready. Today was the first time I’ve seen him or spoken to him since.”
Surprise flashed in her eyes. “You haven’t spoken to him at all since he left?”
Lachlan shook his head. “We didn’t even know where he was for the last two years.” His brow creased, and his voice grew thick. “The older Drew got, the more he began to drink. He’d lose himself in drink and women. He was always a flirt, our mam said he flirted even when he was a wee babe. I suppose it is his nature, but god, he went through women like they were nothing more than chewing gum. New flavour all the time, chewing them up, and he just spat them out. It’s no’ that they werenae willing participants, but it just seemed so meaningless. I thought he was trying to numb his pain with women and alcohol, and I made the mistake of telling him so.”
“Oh,” Violet said with her mouth in a perfectly shaped O .
“Aye, it wasnae good.”
“I can imagine.”
“I called him out on his shite—told him he needed to grow up.” Lachlan shook his head, the memory sitting like a lead weight. “I didnae handle it very well. And neither did he. He came out right and told me that he blamed me for Helena’s death.”
“Oh, wow. That’s heavy.”
Lachlan nodded.
“I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t been there today, things could've gone so differently,” Violet said, regret marring her beautiful features.
“What? No." He didn't want her thinking that today had anything to do with her. It hadn't. Not really.
“Lachlan, you literally punched your brother defending me,” Violet argued.
“Ach, Lass, I’ve been wanting to punch him fer years. Ye just gave me a good excuse.”
“Really?” she said meekly.
“Aye, the arse deserved it, and it felt so freeing to let it fly.”
Violet snickered, a smile curving her lips.
Lachlan ran a hand through his hair. “The truth is, I love that mon so much, and I’m pissed off that he doesnae get that.”
“Maybe he does, deep down. Anger can blind people.”
“Aye, it’s true.” Lachlan considered it, and then his attention was drawn to where Violet had scooched closer to him. He caught her gaze, the soft lighting of the room glowing warmly on her face, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.
“Thank you for talking to me.” Her fingers slid into the open cup of his hand, and he looked at it, almost afraid to look into her beautiful eyes. He let his thumb lightly stroke over her fingers, feeling like he was toying with danger. Violet seemed blissfully unaware of the feeling warring inside of him.
“I can understand not wanting to talk about your family troubles, but I’m glad you told me. ”
"I dinnae ken why, but I'm glad I told ye too," he said, not looking up, knowing that if he did, he'd regret what was bound to happen next.