Luke barks a laugh and settles into the corner recliner. He glances in Seth’s direction. “You still on for Christmas?”
Seth nods. “Hell yeah. Barbeques. Bonfires. Freezin’ lakeside. Sign me up.”
He trails off when he realizes Luke isn’t listening to him. His eyes are trained on Sal, who’s suddenly gone still and pale. Sal, who’s saying, “This is the sister of Lacey Sutton.”
Her anxious eyes flick to Luke, who’s already on his feet and moving for her.
Seth’s mouth goes dry.
“What?” A small intake of breath. “Oh my God. Is she okay?” Sal uncurls her legs, sliding to the edge of the couch. Then she softly asks, “What happened?”
Seth meets Luke’s worried eyes.
“Okay,” she says in a small voice. Her feet hit the floor, and she stands. Her brow furrows, deeper and deeper as she listens to the voice on the other end of the line. “I don’t know ... I don’t—okay, yes, I will. I’ll let you know. Thank you.”
Sal disconnects and looks up at Seth and Luke. Her eyes glitter with unshed tears. Small parentheses of stress bracket her mouth.
Luke eyes Sal with concern. “Darlin’?”
“It’s Lacey.” A tear slips down Sal’s cheek. “She was in an accident.”
Fuck.
Seth’s heart shuts off. Any rational thought in his head destroyed. He opens his mouth to ask what happened, but Luke beats him to it.
“She was mugged.” Sal’s lips tremble. “She’s hurt.”
Seth swallows. “How hurt?”
“She was stabbed in the stomach. The wound isn’t deep but ...” She stares down at her phone, her grip tight like she wants to strangle it. “That’s all they gave me. I mean, what the hell kind of information is that?”
“I want you to take it easy, Sal. Right now.” Luke edges close, his voice as stern as Seth’s ever heard it. Winston barks, as if echoing Luke’s sentiment.
Sal doesn’t hear him. She takes a step away from Luke, lost in concern for her sister. She paces, her pretty face contorted in anger and pain. “They just left her there ... they left her in an alley hurt and unconscious ...”
Seth’s fists clench. Motherfucker.
The thought has Seth’s body physically responding to the news. He tries to rein in his emotions, rage, shock, emotions reflected on his brother’s face, but he can’t.
A swear blasts from his lips. “Fuck.”
Luke’s eyes move from him to Sal.
She holds her belly, swaying unsteadily on her feet.
“Darlin’, sit down.” Luke puts a hand out to catch her and pulls her close. Helps her settle on the couch. She sits, her expression dazed and far off.
“Lacey’s all alone out there,” Sal says suddenly, desperately turning her teary gaze to Luke. Her trembling hands make smooth circles over the orb of her stomach. “She needs someone to help her ... I have to go, Luke. I have to go. She doesn’t have anyone—”
“Sal ...” Luke shakes his head, hating to be the asshole, to say no, but knowing she can’t go to her sister. Not now. Not on bed rest. He brings her close, kisses her temple, runs a hand down the back of her head. Smooth, calming strokes. “You can’t, darlin’. I’m so sorry, but you can’t.”
In Luke’s arms, Sal begins to cry. Stark, silent sobs that have Seth slowly dying inside.
Luke, his own eyes wet, kisses the top of her dark head.
Flames leap from the fire, the crackle of wood.
“I’ll go.”