Page 9 of Forbidden Bond

“No thanks to you,” she said. “Lachlan spent most of his youth raising me. He spent most of his life setting a good example for me.”

“Is that what angers you? Why you chose to give yourself to…? You blame me for neglecting you?”

“No, actually,” she said, perspective adjusting. “My brother raised me with love and was an excellent role model. I adore my brother. Which you know, that’s why you used him to get me into that room with Silvio. Lach puts me, us, ahead of everything else in his life.”

Maybe that was it. Lachlan wanted to raise her right, so hadn’t taken advantage of the easy route, the reckless route, if ever offered to him. Choice over his character, his actions, was influenced by his need to set an example for her, and the expectation of the McLeod generations above him. Had her brother ever done something for him, been his true self, or was his entire life crafted by conformity?

“Sometimes we have to value more than one thing. My work with the city—”

“If we’ve accomplished any kind of truce in the last five days, can we at least be honest with each other? You enjoyedthe attention. It’s no shame, it’s allowed. You were in control at work, felt important, you got a recognition there that you didn’t get with your family.”

“Silvio, more than once, brought you and your brother into conversation. Your safety was a concern.” Before it became about money, maybe. “A man like that can… I did stand up for you, for my family.”

“Threats are one thing, but the bigger picture… Maybe now with Grandpapa gone, it’s more precarious, but Silvio couldn’t have hurt Lachlan. Wouldn’t have. And Evander’s attention, it’s been a part of my adult life as far back as I remember.”

“Silvio is not close to his youngest son.”

The Manzani obsessed with her.

“No. You weren’t close to your children either.”

“I stood up for you.”

“And I did the same,” she said. “Maybe we both started out trying to do the expected thing, the default thing, in standing up for our family. But now…” Everything seemed warped, every memory unreliable. “I don’t know what we were doing, either of us.”

Giving themselves permission to do whatever they truly wanted. That’s what they’d been doing. Stacking their selfish desires under a false umbrella of virtue gave them a righteous, ridiculous excuse. They weren’t thinking about the family, they were thinking about themselves.

A pause lingered. Neither waited for anything, they just sat with themselves for a minute. Who was she without Connel? Her life had been molded by the men in it. First Lachlan, her work at the Chronicler, Evander, the Manzanis, the McDades, Conn… Her morals twisted in the wind, catering to whatever the moment required. It never scared her to be near Conn. In spiteof what he’d done, even in her company, disgust, fear, neither visited when he was around.

Conn would never be with her again, and her grandfather was out of the picture. Who was she without them? Who did she want to be? The McLeod restraints disappeared when she admitted her relationship with Connel. Since being free of judgment, she hadn’t paused to figure out if there were other facets of herself she wanted to explore.

Lach. It came back to him, didn’t it? Without Conn, her life stalled. Maybe it was her turn to look after her brother, to prioritize him, like he’d done when she needed him. He’d lost so much. His relationship, his apartment, maybe that’s why he moved in with her, to get away from his own grief. He’d said she needed a keeper, maybe it was him, maybe he needed one. Had he come to her for support in the wake of his heartache? What had she done? Thrown her relationship in his face and moved out. Great job, Sersha. Just great.

“I do enjoy being important,” her father said, surprising her with candor. “And I never was with you.”

“Important?”

“You respected your brother. Idolized him. You clung to him, hung on his every word. He got through to you in a way I never could.”

“You could’ve tried.”

“I did.”

“Harder. You could’ve tried harder. I lost my mother. I was the only female in our family; I’ve always been out of place with the three of you. Lachlan was the only person ever happy to see me, ever aware of me and my safety, my comfort. He cared about me. I never got that from you, or from Grandpapa, not really.”

“We’re a different generation.”

“That’s an excuse,” she said. “You gave yourself the out and put my wellbeing, my upbringing, on Lachlan’s shoulderswhen he was just a kid himself. A grieving kid. I’ve always thought it must’ve been more difficult for him. He had memories. He missed the woman our mother was. I missed a specter, a glimmer of an illusion. My mother was whatever I made up in my head, whatever Lachlan gave me. I pieced together the puzzle from photographs and whispered lullabies.”

“I never intended to do it alone. We were supposed to do it together, raise a family together—”

“You blame her?”

“No.” Something wistful touched his words. “I was lost. She left me lost. And I didn’t like that, I can—I’m used to being in control.”

“And you were alone.” She got it. More now as an adult than had been possible as a child. “You expected to be half of a whole and the other half suddenly vanished. Maybe you did deserve a better hand than you got, maybe not. At least you got the chance to be with her, to be married and have two children with her.” She licked her lips. “You’ve taken that chance from me.”

“Ire McDade was not a suitable partner,” he said, stern in his disapproval, nothing new. “A life with him would’ve been intolerable.”

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