For a moment she didn’t answer. Then she wiped her face with her fingers once more, and turned to face him. ‘No. Everything you’ve said is true. I have been too controlling. I thought I was protecting her, but I’ve handled her in the worst way possible. I’ve done all the wrong things at all the wrong times.’
His hands tightened on her arms. ‘For all the right reasons.’
‘I’ve let her down. She’s my responsibility, but I’ve made it impossible for her to turn to me because she knows I’ll be upset and worried, and—I’ve missed the fact that she’s grown up…’ Her voice wobbled and for a moment she stopped speaking and just breathed.
Waiting for her to finish her sentence, Alessio discovered that her determination not to lose control in front of him was a thousand times more moving than a cascade of tears.
‘Lindsay—’
‘Don’t say anything,’ she muttered. ‘This is—a bit difficult—’ she lifted a hand to her mouth and then let it fall again ‘—and the reason it’s difficult is because everything you say is true. I’ve failed her.’ For some reason the brave smile was a greater attack on his conscience than her tears and Alessio swore softly.
‘Why do you feel she’s your responsibility?’
Lindsay looked at him for a moment. ‘Because she’s my little sister,’ she whispered, ‘and it doesn’t matter what she does, she’ll always be my little sister.’
‘Precisely.’ Feeling as though he were drowning, Alessio ran a hand over the back of his neck. ‘You’re her sister, not her mother.’
‘I’ve always looked after her.’ She gave a twisted smile. ‘Or, at least, that’s what I was trying to do. But it seems I haven’t been helping her as much as I thought.’
Alessio inhaled sharply. ‘Take no notice of anything I say. As you rightly point out, I know nothing about relationships. Relationships are always complicated, Lindsay—’ his tone was harsher than he’d intended ‘—that’s why I avoid them.’
‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about this anymore right now?’ Clearly hanging on to control by a thread, she turned away from him and walked over to the huge blanket. ‘It’s very dark.’
‘It’s the storm. It will pass, but probably not before nightfall. We’ll be spending the night here.’
He waited for her to have hysterics or make some sharp remark about him having engineered the situation, but she did neither. Instead she simply dropped to her knees onto the blanket and curled up with her back to him.
‘If you don’t mind, I think I might sleep. I haven’t had much sleep since Ruby went missing…’ Her voice tailed off and for a moment she hesitated. ‘But of course she isn’t actually missing, is she? She just doesn’t want me to know where she is.’
Lying there, trying to make herself as small as possible, she reminded him of a lost child.
‘You must be very angry with her.’
‘Angry?’ Her voice was thickened with tears. ‘How could I possibly be angry with her when it’s all my fault? You’re quite right. I’ve driven her away. My behaviour has driven her away.’
Nowhere near as forgiving, Alessio found his own anger towards Ruby flaring to life. She should have known how much her sister would worry. She should have picked up the bloody phone.
It was obvious that Lindsay, however misguided, had genuinely been acting for her sister’s benefit and, sensing the depth of her hurt, Alessio gritted his teeth, taking her pain as yet another example of why love was the utter pits. Why did anyone bother? Who wanted to put themselves through that? Much better to build a barrier around one’s emotions.
And that was what he’d done, of course.
From a very early age.
He sat down next to her. His eyes rested on the smooth skin of her bare shoulder and then followed the line of her red swimsuit. It dipped temptingly into her tiny waist and then rose again to accommodate the feminine swell of her hips. Instinctively he lifted a hand to trace that all too tempting curve, but there was something in the way she held herself that stopped him. Instead, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, practising restraint for the first time in his life.
Reminding himse
lf not to express his opinion of her sister ever again, he closed his eyes.
It was going to be a long night.
Lindsay lay in the depths of misery, drowning in self-blame.
This was all her fault. She could see that now.
If she’d been more approachable and less judgmental, Ruby would have felt able to confide in her—she would have called.
How could she have been so horribly wrong? She spent her working life helping couples see that there were always two points of view, and yet had she ever listened to what Ruby wanted? No, she hadn’t. She’d been so afraid that Ruby would choose the wrong path in life that every time her sister had opened her mouth, she’d lectured and dictated. Don’t do this—don’t do that.