Chapter 88 Lachlan
Lachlan
About an hour after he’d first arrived, Trey Evans walked back into Lachlan’s pub, dripping in Scottish rain, trembling with anger.
He did not say hello. “Drink.”
Lachlan poured another glass of cheap swill. He tried not to hope. “Back already?”
“Obviously,” Trey growled.
Across the room, Hannah was watching intently, her eyes narrowed.
Lachlan slid the glass across the bar. “Did you tell her you love her?”
Trey’s eyes snapped up from the thistle he still twirled in his fingers. “None of your fucking business.”
Lachlan kept his voice level. “So, it went well, then?”
Trey’s fist flexed open, then closed, then wrapped around the glass and brought it to his lips. He drank, wincing, but he didn’t stop, and he swallowed hard.
Then he reared his arm back and threw the glass against the ground. The sound of the shattering brought all the dull chatter in the pub to a standstill.
“Another.”
Lachlan had spent his entire life proving he was not a violent man. He forced his hand to stay steady as he reached for a new glass.
“That.” Trey pointed at the tartan fabric Lachlan’s father had proudly pinned to the wall of The Wallflower’s Crown. “I knew I recognized it from Deli’s picture.” He leaned toward Lachlan and said so low it was nearly a whisper, “I knew I recognized you.”
“It’s nice to have fans.”
Trey’s smirk was vile. “You have no idea.”
The door to the back creaked as it swung open.
“But I do.”
William Scott strode into the silent pub and towered over Trey with a wide smile. He slung a rag over his shoulder and leaned casually on the counter, as always, at ease on a stage.
Trey Evans sounded like he was choking on his tongue. “You.”
“Hiya, Trey. You’re gonna have to pay for that glass.”
“What are you doing here, Scott?” Trey snarled.
Lachlan looked sideways at his brother.
“This is my brother’s pub, Evans. Where are my manners? Lachlan, Trey. Trey, Lachlan. Trey and I know each other from the biz—lotta time at auditions in the old days. We used to get calls for the same stuff, you know.”
Lachlan smirked. “Is that right?”
Trey was silent. His eyes were murderous.
Will’s smile only widened. “Well, I don’t audition much anymore. Last one I saw you on was for The Highlander, right? But good old Trey’s still out there, trying his best.”
Lachlan stuck out his lip at Trey. “Aw. Must be tough never getting what you want.”
“I do have what I want,” Trey spat through clenched teeth.
“Apparently not, or you’d be with her. Not here with us, throwing a tantrum.”
Trey Evans stood and squared his shoulders.
“That bitch?” Trey said. “You think I care that she didn’t want to marry me? I was doing her a favor. It was charity.”
Will stood to his full height and began to roll up his sleeves.
Trey had said marry him? A rush of relief ran through Lachlan and collided with the ache in his heart. She’d said no. She was safe. She wasn’t with Trey. That could be enough.
Even if Deli wouldn’t have him, Lachlan could make that be enough.
Trey laughed, low and venomous, and watched Lachlan with a quirked head in a cruel sort of curiosity. Lachlan knew his brother. He knew that whatever happened next would get Trey exactly what he wanted—attention. He tried to catch William’s eye, but he was watching Trey. Ready.
“I don’t know what she thinks she’ll find here, but Deli MacDonald isn’t worth my—hell, anyone’s time.”
Lachlan shifted his stance.
“As if anyone could sweep Deli off her fee—”
The sound of a fist hitting a face rippled through the air, fleshy and solid. Trey Evans dropped to the ground and went silent.
Hannah shook her hand out as she stared down at the pile of wet designer clothes and pitiful man at her feet. “He talks too much.”
Will’s jaw hung open. “Jesus, Hannah, what a fuckin’ line!”
Lachlan burst with laughter as he rushed around the bar and swept her into his arms. “Welcome back.”
“Put me down, boy,” Hannah said. “You’re making a scene.” He twirled her one more time and set her on her feet. “What are you still doing here?”
All the regulars were gathered in a semicircle.
Lachlan realized if it hadn’t been Hannah who landed the quieting blow, it would have been someone else.
Someone else who loved Deli, who loved Mo, and who loved him.
This was his family. And Lachlan felt, perhaps for the first time, that no matter who came or went, he would never be alone.
Then something Trey had said hit home.
. . . what she thinks she’ll find here.
Here.
Could that mean?
He dug the keys from his pocket and tossed them to Will.
“Lock up for me?”
“Aye.” Will grinned. “But we’ll not be done till we’ve drained the last of this!” He reached behind the bar and hoisted a mostly full bottle of Lagavulin.
“That’ll cost you.” Lachlan smiled as he put on his coat.
“It’s on the house, or my name’s not Scott!” Will roared. The small but hearty crowd cheered.
Lachlan pushed open the door, but Hannah grabbed his arm.
“Lad,” she said, low enough for just them to hear, “all this nonsense about her not loving you? It’s just that. Nonsense.”
“She rejected me, Hannah. She might again. I’m just going to make sure she’s okay.”
“No,” Hannah said softly. “She rejected herself. But now?” She gestured toward Trey, who was beginning to stir. Graham and William were standing over him, and Lachlan was tempted, only for a moment, to stay and watch the two toss Trey Evans into the mud. “Now she’s ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“For the way love changes you.” Her voice was as warm and sure as he remembered. “The question is: Are you?”
Lachlan imagined what happened next, and the two roads he could take. He could be brave, or he could be safe. He thought about what it would feel like to spend his entire life knowing that he hadn’t said what he should have.
He’d made himself a promise once. He intended to keep it.
He would carry his gentle heart, and he would never let fear make it hardened.
As he stood in the threshold of The Wallflower’s Crown, named for his mother’s fear and the place where he’d watched his father live and die the life of a coward, Lachlan finally understood just how unalike they really were.
He grinned at Hannah. “I think I am.”
“Good.” Hannah smiled. “Then go.”
“Wait.” Lachlan turned back toward the stairs. “One more thing.”
A few minutes later he came down to a chorus of hoots and whistles. He paused and took one more long look at the people who had always loved him.
Then Lachlan Scott ran, heart in his hand, into the falling rain.