‘It wasn’t like it happened overnight,’ I say. ‘At first it just seemed like he was putting in enough hours for two, filling in for his AWOL partner—’
‘I wasn’t—’
I cut him off with another look. ‘You want me to tell you how things went down over here when you swanned off to the States or not?’
‘Apologies—go on...’ He retreats, his shoulders relaxing as he sinks back into the sofa and gestures with the tail end of his bottle as he drinks.
I tear my gaze from the movement in his throat as he swallows and look at my bottle, toying with the corner of its label as I work out where to start.
‘He started to become hard to reach,’ I say eventually. ‘We’d have people messaging us to say they’d seen him in this bar, this club, this restaurant, asking if he was okay. Which was bizarre in itself. I mean, Christ, he was a grown adult, but even I, his younger sister, was getting concerned messages.’
Hair falls over my eyes as the memory makes me animated. I scrape it behind my ear and throw back some beer, letting it settle before I carry on.
‘We put it down to him networking at first—trying to pull in investors to save the company. But of course that was a load of rubbish. The company was past saving. The highlight came when he got himself into a fight. I mean, I knew he was quick to temper—how could I not, being his annoying little sister? But losing it with a sibling is very different to a public fist fight with a billionaire you’re trying to impress.’
Lucas clears his throat and I sense he knows this already—the incident made it into the papers so it’s no surprise.
‘Dad insisted he come home for a bit. He helped him get straightened out, gave him a role in the family business and what-have-you, but he was never the same...not without you.’
I expect Lucas to say something, but he doesn’t, so I press on.
‘He doesn’t trust himself. Dad thinks he’s okay now but he’s not. He calls me too often, asking my opinion, needing advice on things that he really shouldn’t need me for. And then when things go south it’s me that gets the call.’
‘Christ, Eva, you have your own work—you shouldn’t be wiping his arse.’
I see red. Hot tears burn my throat as my eyes snap to his. ‘Maybe if you’d stuck around longer it never would have come to this. He missed you—needed you.’
He pales, and I wonder who I’m really talking about. Me or Nate.
Does it really matter when the same applies?
I look at the bottle in my hand, stare through it. ‘Maybe if you’d actually bothered to pick up your phone and help, you could have changed things.’
Bad enough that he’d upped and left, but then he’d ignored my phone calls, my pleas for help...
It didn’t matter that we had nothing much to do with one another any more. That avoidance was my way of coping after the lesson of my eighteenth birthday. But I still thought I deserved something—he owed us, owed me.
‘I called you almost daily at first, and I texted, emailed. Then one day your phone stopped working and my emails bounced. You were really gone.’
‘I’m sorry.’
I glance at him. His hand is so tight around the beer bottle’s neck I fear he’s going to break it.
‘What for?’ I demand. ‘Ignoring me? Or what you did to Nate?’
‘I had to cut myself off.’
‘Had to or wanted to?’
He shakes his head. ‘It was a choice that was made for me.’
I scoff. ‘No one tells you what to do, Lucas. You’ve always done what you want, when you want.’
‘If that was the case I wouldn’t have stopped myself at your eighteenth.’
His voice is harsh, formidable, the truth in his words undeniable. I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t that. I can’t find any words—can’t seem to make a sound.
‘That really surprises you so much?’