Chapter 6
six
. . .
SUTTON
It became immediately obvious that no one outside of Birdie had expected me to show up at this family dinner. Fourteen sets of blue eyes locked on me, as well as a set of cinnamon ones and a green pair, but I only had eyes for the birthday boy.
Was my coming here tonight weird? Absolutely.
But when Birdie had called to invite me, I hadn’t been able to resist. In the week since, I hadn’t been able to shake off the awkward interaction with Lane at the hospital.
I’d tried my best to convince myself he’d been acting the way he had because of the drugs, but I knew better.
He’d been so clear-eyed, his words coming out so sure and steady.
Lane was a big man, too big for the dosage of pain meds he’d been given to affect him that strongly.
None of that explained why he’d woken from a coma and decided he wanted to give us another try. The whole concept of a second chance with Lane made me dizzy.
As terrifying as it was, I’d shown up at this dinner to press the issue, to see if, with time and distance, Lane had changed his mind.
The reaction to my appearance was comical. The entire room silenced. I’d never heard the Lawless family so quiet, and it had me shifting uncomfortably on my feet.
“Hey guys,” I said, my hand still hanging awkwardly in the air. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by.”
“Of course not,” Birdie said, wrapping her slender fingers around my wrist and tugging me deeper into the room, directing me to an open spot on the bench that ran along the far side of the table, putting me next to Aspen.
And directly across from Lane.
The tension in the air was so thick, I could’ve cut it with a butter knife.
Unspoken words ballooned in the air between me and him, and my mouth opened and closed as I searched for some conversational thread to tug on, to quell this discomfort between us, but there was nothing.
Instead, I remained mute as the family dug into the feast Birdie had prepared, Aspen passing me dishes to load up my plate while making small talk.
Or attempting to, anyway.
Conversation became stilted as everyone dug into their meals, the only words becoming murmured requests for certain dishes and refills of drinks.
Once eating slowed, though, talking resumed, different groupings at the table launching into discussions of different topics, making it impossible for an outsider like me to pick up the thread of any one of them.
So I sat back and watched, feeling entirely out of place, unable to shake off the sense that coming here had been a bad idea.
“How much more packing do you have to do?” Reagan asked Aria, who sat on her other side, and I zeroed in on them.
Packing for what? I wondered.
“Not much. Most of my clothes are ready, all of my books, linens, those sorts of things. Luckily, the place I found to rent is fully furnished, so I don’t have to worry about moving big stuff across the country.”
“You mean we don’t,” Owen piped up from the other end of the table, and Trey nodded in agreement.
Aria grinned. “Love you, big brother.”
“Love you too, brat,” Owen replied affectionately.
“You’re moving?” I asked Aria.
She nodded, a broad, bright grin overtaking her face. “To Nashville. Finally going to pursue that singing career.”
“That’s amazing!” I gushed, genuinely excited for her.
Aria was an incredibly skilled artist. I’d seen her perform at the Swallow enough times to know that her talent was wasted in a town like this.
“How are you even affording this?” Lane blurted, and several disapproving glares turned on him—all from the women, including me. “It’s not like you work.”
“I work here every day,” Aria protested, stabbing her finger in the direction of the kitchen. “Or did you think Mama did it all by herself?”
“Well, yeah, actually,” Lane said.
“She doesn’t. I work just as hard as she does, and when I’m not slaving away making sure the ranch hands are fed, or the self-care orders are filled, I’m in the barn with Finn’s rescues, or over at the dude ranch cleaning fucking cabins for West.”
“Language,” Birdie admonished, but there was little heat behind it.
Then West threw his two cents in, and the energy in the room shifted. A clear divide opened between members of the family.
“I know what we pay you, Ari, and I have to admit…I don’t think it’s nearly enough to move across the country and stay afloat while you look for work.”
“That’s not really your concern, is it?” Aria replied.
“Your well-being is my concern,” West shot back through clenched teeth. “And I think you’re making a mistake.”
“Agreed,” Crew said.
I got the sense this was an argument the family had in the past, and it was easy to see who was on which side.
West, Crew, and Lane obviously didn’t want Aria to leave Dusk Valley and their protective embrace.
Owen, Trey, and Finn had remained quiet, giving Aria room to fight her own battle, which gave me the impression they were on board with Aria doing whatever she needed to be happy.
The women, of course, were on Aria’s side, though I could imagine it was difficult for Birdie to let her baby fly the coop.
Bickering broke out between Aria and West, Crew, and Lane, but a deep, calm, authoritative voice cut off the argument.
“I set up a trust for her.”
All heads swiveled to Owen.
“You what?” Lane asked incredulously.
“Why the fuck didn’t we get trusts?” West whined.
“God, you’re annoying,” his twin said, shaking his head, and I bit back a chuckle.
“You idiots”—Owen wagged his fork at his brothers—“were all teenagers when Dad died. Old enough to fend for yourselves. Aria wasn’t, and I wanted to make sure she was taken care of.
With Dad gone, we had no fucking idea what the future would look like, and I don’t think you all realize how close we came to losing everything, even with my help. ”
West looked at Birdie. “Is that true, Mama?”
Birdie nodded solemnly. “He helped, but only so much. I hated that time, when my twenty-year-old son was forced to take care of my children.” Her voice cracked, and I stared longingly at the door, wondering if I could disappear without anyone noticing.
This was not a conversation I needed to be part of.
“Nobody forced me to do anything,” Owen said.
Crew asked his mom, “Did you know about the trust?”
“Not until she turned eighteen and could access it.”
“So you’ve just been sitting on this pile of money for six years?” Finn asked his sister, his tone conveying he was impressed.
Aria nodded proudly. “I used some of it to buy recording equipment, software, and a new guitar, and I asked Owen to help me invest some of it, but otherwise, I haven’t touched it.
It’s only for emergencies.” She glared at Lane, West, and Crew in turn.
“So despite your complete lack of faith in me, I’ll be fine.
I already have a job lined up at a bar on Broadway. ”
“You’ve never bartended a day in your life,” West protested.
“God, would you just shut the fuck up about it already?” Aria exploded, rising to her feet, dishes jumping as her knees knocked the edge of the table.
“You’re not going to talk me out of leaving.
I’m twenty-four. More than old enough to make my own decisions, and your position on the matter will not change them.
Either get on board, or stay the fuck away from me. ”
With that, she stormed from the room.
I knew her dissenting brothers meant well, that they only wanted to keep their baby sister safe—especially after what had happened last summer when Reagan had been dealing with a stalker who mistook Aria for her.
But as a woman who had always been more independent than my family appreciated, I was proud of Aria for sticking to her guns and doing what she wanted to do.
These Lawless men could be overbearing as hell, but she hadn’t backed down or cowered.
Long, tense moments of silence passed before Birdie ultimately broke it.
“For once again giving your sister grief about her move, you two”—Birdie pointed at Crew and West—“can clean up.”
“What about him?” Crew protested, hooking a thumb at Lane.
Lane wiggled his left arm, a dumb move, he quickly realized, when he winced. “Bro, I just got shot.”
“But you better believe, dear boy,” Birdie said to him, standing up but bending to press a kiss to the top of his head, “if you weren’t injured, you’d be washing dishes right alongside them.”
Lane hung his head, sufficiently admonished, and this time, I couldn’t hold back my laughter.
His gaze snapped to mine, eyes wide in surprise, as though he’d forgotten I was here.
The room filled with the cacophony of clinking dishes and West and Crew’s mumbled annoyances. With the attention from his family off him, I dug into my bag and withdrew the little wrapped box.
Handing it over to Lane, I said quietly, “Happy birthday.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, though his finger instantly slipped under the paper to free it.
My cheeks heated. I hadn’t expected him to open it here, and now I was terrified of his reaction.
“It’s not the most…conventional gift,” I admitted.
Lane’s long, thick fingers pried the lid off and withdrew the object nestled on a foam cushion inside.
At the end of a long chain was a bullet, its piercing end mushroomed into an oddly beautiful shape that resembled a blooming flower.
“Is this…?”
I nodded. “Yeah. The one that almost killed you.”
Then, without waiting for further response, I got up and left the room.
It had been years since I’d been inside this house, but it hadn’t changed a bit except for the photos that lined the mantle in the den.
Back then, the frames had been filled with photos of the kids’ school pictures.
Now, they featured Owen and Delia, and Crew and Aspen’s wedding photos; a few shots of Owen’s son, Jace; Reagan and Finn; Lane the day he’d been sworn in as sheriff; West grinning down from horseback; and of course, Aria, throwing a cheeky wink at whoever was behind the camera while doing her thing on stage at the Swallow.
She sat on an armchair in the corner of the room, face red with anger.
“For what it’s worth,” I said quietly to her. “I’m proud of you.”
Her lips twitched in an attempt at a grin, and she said, “Thank you. They just…god, they make me so mad.”
I only had one older brother myself, but I knew the feeling well.
But I didn’t say anything else to her as I sank down onto the long, L-shaped sectional and dropped my head into my hands. Before I had a chance to die of embarrassment, footsteps approached, and I looked up to find Aspen and Reagan had entered the room.
“Some gift,” Aspen marveled. “Nothing says ‘happy birthday’ like being reminded you almost died.” She turned her attention to Aria.
“Or getting reamed out by your little sister. About damn time though,” she said to her sister-in-law, squeezing Aria’s shoulder before sitting a few cushions away from me. Aria nodded but remained quiet.
I choked on a laugh. “Maybe I didn’t really think that through. It was supposed to be a reminder of his strength, but I think I messed up.”
Aspen waved me off. “Nah. He loved it.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Reagan agreed. “He actually put it on as soon as you walked out.”
Well, I thought. That wasn’t nothing.
“I’m surprised you brought him something, though,” Aspen mused. “We always thought you hated him.”
Wincing, I said, “It’s complicated.”
“They dated,” Aria supplied, though her tone was a little flat in the aftermath of the showdown with her brothers. The three of us gasped at her. Obviously, this wasn’t news to me like it was Aspen and Reagan, but…
“What?” Aspen asked at the same time I said, “How do you know that?”
She shrugged. “He came home from college one weekend and was an absolute wreck. I weaseled it out of him. I don’t know if y’all know this, but when I give any of my brothers this face”—she pouted, jutting her bottom lip out and widening her eyes like a sad puppy—“none of them can say no.”
“Except when it comes to moving across the country,” Aspen added unhelpfully, and Aria glared at her.
“But you were like…” I trailed off.
“Eight,” she said before I could do the math. “Had no idea about love or heartbreak—unless you count Daddy—but honestly, I think he was just happy to have someone to talk to.”
“How long were you together?” Reagan asked me.
“Most of fall semester our sophomore year.”
“And the brothers have no idea?” Aspen clarified, and I nodded. “Why?”
I explained to them how in high school, our friend groups overlapped but we didn’t really hang out together on purpose. How Lane and I had become really good friends over the course of our first year of college. How that friendship slowly shifted to more.
“But you know how dating at that age is,” I said. “It could’ve been nothing, or it could’ve been…”
“Everything,” Aria said.
“Yeah. We both just decided to keep it between us until we decided it was serious enough to tell our families.”
Now that I’d offered that explanation out loud, though, it seemed more like an excuse. There hadn’t been anything casual about my relationship with Lane back then. I doubt I’d ever be able to be casual about anything where Lane was concerned.
Reading my mind, Aspen said, “Sounds like it was serious to me.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “It was,” I agreed. “I loved him.”
I didn’t bother correcting myself, amending that there was nothing past tense about it.
Aria, the perceptive little shit, did it for me.
“Seems to me like you still do.”