For a long moment, Dev held his stare and then he clasped his other hand around the nape of Lucian’s neck. Dev pressed his brow to Lucian’s. “I never wanted to be right about Madeline,” he said in a low voice.
Lucian’s throat thickened. “I know.”
Several moments passed, and then Dev let go. Drawing in a breath that didn’t do very much, Lucian tossed the papers into the flames.
The three of them watched the evidence turn to ash.
Feeling heavier than he had in years, Lucian walked to the couch and dropped down beside him. A glass of whiskey was handed to him, and he downed half of it in one gulp.
Discovering what his sister had done, what she’d been doing had altered everything Lucian had known and believed. Their mother? Their fucking father?
Why . . . why had Lawrence treated him the way he had? Treated Maddie the way he had? Maybe—just maybe if the man had been an actual father to them, Maddie wouldn’t have ended up the way she had.
And they’d never have the answers.
He’d never know if Lawrence knew the truth, and if he had, Lucian would never know why he treated Maddie and him like he did.
Man, that was a hard thing to come to terms with. He didn’t even know how.
“I can’t believe that fuck had been in this house when we didn’t know,” Gabe said, breaking the silence. “Jesus.”
The footsteps? The shadow Julia had seen while she’d been in the shower? Some of it had been Maddie. Some of it had been Daniel. If that punk weren’t already alligator feed, Lucian would make damn sure he would be.
“I’m sorry,” Gabe said. “I didn’t mean to take her to the edge.”
“I know.” Lucian closed his eyes. “I could’ve grabbed you both. I only grabbed you. That’s the truth.”
“Don’t put that on yourself,” Dev ordered. “And, Gabe, you did what you had to do to. We all did.”
They did.
Like they had before.
Like they always did.
Didn’t make any of this easier.
“Maybe it’s true,” Lucian said after a couple of moments.
“What?” Gabe turned to him.
A wry smile twisted his lips. “The curse—all of that shit. I mean, look around us. Look what has happened to nearly every woman in our family, to the women we know. This house—this name fucking taints them.”
Gabe stiffened. “Lucian—”
“You can’t tell me you don’t believe that. After everything?” His hand tightened on the glass. “After what happened with you—with what is happening right now with Emma and your son?”
His brother looked away.
“Our sister killed our mother and then hid for ten years. She came back and pretended that she couldn’t walk or talk. You can’t tell me that’s some normal shit right there.”
“It’s not normal.” Dev sat in the chair across from them. “Just like having a family that people believe is cursed isn’t normal.”
Lucian snorted.
Silence fell between them and then Gabe asked, “How are you handling this?”
“I don’t know.” Lucian forced a smile as he stared down at his glass. “Ask me again in five years.”
“What are you going to do about Julia?”
“If he was smart, he’d get her on the next flight out of here.” Dev stared into the flames. “We don’t need her anymore.”
“I wasn’t asking you,” Gabe said, his tone hardening in a way Lucian had never heard it before. “You care about her. I know you do.”
There was a good chance that the glass would crack in Lucian’s grip. Truth was, he still needed Julia. He needed her now more than ever and he did care about her. Deeply.
He knew that he loved her.
And Lucian knew what he had to do.
Chapter 33
Rolling onto her side, Julia winced at the twinge of pain along her ribs. The ache was dull, but she was lucky they weren’t broken.
She was so lucky for so many things.
With her eyes still closed and heart aching as the events from the night before came back to her, she reached over for Lucian, but her hand hit air and nothing else. Brows furrowing together, she opened her eyes. Daylight was mostly blocked by the thick curtains, but the slivers of light crept across the hardwood floor and the foot of the bed.
Holding the covers to her chest and careful not to pull on her tender ribs, she looked around Lucian’s bedroom. Her breath caught when she saw him.
Lucian was sitting in a chair across from the bed, half his body cast into the shadows of the room. His legs were spread wide, and from what she could see, he was slouched in the chair, one elbow propped up on the arm, his two fingers folded over his lips.
He wasn’t moving, so still that he could’ve been mistaken for a sculpture. Unease blossomed as her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket.
“Lucian?” She felt stupid for asking, but she had to. “Are you . . . you okay?”
He didn’t respond for a long, too long moment. The unease grew like a noxious weed unfurling in the pit of her stomach and spreading through her veins, threatening to choke her. “I will be,” he replied, his tone empty and flat. “Eventually.”
She wet her lip, wincing when she touched the cut along her bottom. “That was a dumb question. I know, but—”
“It’s not stupid.” There was a pause. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. I—I think so.” Between everything that had happened, she’d been exhausted and she’d slept the kind of sleep where you weren’t even sure you dreamed. “Did I sleep long?”
“You slept as long as you needed to.”
Air hitched in her throat again. Scooting to the foot of the bed, she kept the sheet to her chest. Lucian had seen every inch of her body and then some, but she felt oddly vulnerable in the moment, so she held the sheet close. His tone—it was off. Everything about him was off.
The last thing she remembered was him holding her before she fell asleep. “Did you not sleep at all?”
“Not really.”
She placed her feet on the floor but halted, wishing he would say something else—something more. Instead, he just sat there, watching her from the shadows. Tiny knots formed in her stomach.
Julia couldn’t even begin to know what he was going through, what he was feeling. His brothers might have suspected that things with Madeline were not what they seemed, but Lucian had always defended his twin sister. She’d fallen for Maddie’s act, but for him, it was different.
Not only had he discovered that his sister was nothing but a fraud, he’d learned that she had killed their mother. The hits hadn’t stopped coming. He’d spent his life believing the man who raised them wasn’t their father and that’s why he’d been so hateful toward them. But that hadn’t been the truth.
How could Lucian even process that was beyond Julia, and it was unlikely he would ever know why his father had behaved the way he had toward him and Madeline. None of them knew where the mother’s diary was now. It was lost with all the ghosts of the past.
And he . . . he had to watch his sister die.
She knew he wasn’t going to be all right. Not for a while, and that was okay, because she would be there for him.
“Tell me,” she said, searching out his gaze through the shadows. “Tell me what I can do for you.”
There was a long stretch of silence and then he said, “I’m actually glad you brought that up. There is something you can do for me.”
“Anything,” she replied immediately.
Lucian finally moved. He rose, and she lifted her head, expected him to come to her. He didn’t. Lucian walked over to a small table butted up to the wall, beside the door that led out into his living room. He picked something up—a folder. He came back to her, holding it out.
Julia’s gaze dropped to it. “What is this?”
“It’s your future,” he replied.
Her future? Numbly, she took the folder from him. As soon as it was in her hand, he backed off, turning away and walking toward the porch doors. She placed the folder on the bed, opening it. “I don’t understand . . .”