Page 103 of Quiet Beautiful Things

“Right,” I say. “Let’s go.”

He looks at me strangely.

“What?” I ask.

“Are you aware you just did sign language?”

I replay the last five seconds in my head. Huh, I guess I did. Well,that’snever happened before.

We hop in his truck and head back to the winery. When we pass the main complex, there are still a few dozen cars there. I guess people stayed for free booze and food. And maybe tocollect on bets they’d placed. I silently wonder if Ellie and Maisy are still inside.

Dallas drives to the far end of the property where there are a few acres of land Dad could never get vines to grow on. It became our playground when we were kids and came to work with our parents. We’d play tag out there. Kick the can. And when we got older, my brothers and I would have jousting fights on the ATVs used to drive through the vineyards. Mom and Dad would have killed us if they knew about that. It’s surprising the three of us survived with little more than bruises and scratches.

It’s the only place Lucas could go where no one would think to find him.

No one but us, that is.

“Christ, he’s here,” Dallas says, spotting his car in the distance.

Lucas drove right over the green space and may have even sideswiped some trees to park where he did.

I send a quick text to Mom to let her know we found him so she won’t worry. But I don’t disclose where. This is one of those times you just need your brothers.

It’s like Lucas doesn’t even notice when we walk up next to him. There’s a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting on a tree stump, and he’s smoking a cigarette—a habit he gave up in his early twenties. But I get now is not the time for a lecture.

He looks up, unhappy to have been found, and takes a long drag. Smoke comes out along with his words. “Don’t fucking start with me. I know what I did. I know I’m a lowlife prick.”

I hold out my hand for the bottle. “Can we join you?”

He shrugs. I take a pull then hand it to Dallas. We both left our jackets in the truck, and now we loosen our ties and take a seat on nearby stumps.

Neither Dallas nor I talk. We just take turns sipping whiskey. Lucas will talk when he’s ready. If we know anything about our oldest brother, we know that.

He smokes three more cigarettes, flicking the last one—half-smoked—across the grass, and winces. His face is a greenish hue. I guess when you haven’t smoked in a while it can make you ill. He takes a long swig of whiskey, then turns and vomits behind him. Then, he takes another drink and lights another cigarette as if punishing himself.

“I was going to go through with it,” he says between clenched teeth. “I swear to God I was. Then I heard the violin music, and you guys left to go walk the girls down the aisle and I just…Fuck!”He kicks the stump with the back of his heel, putting one hell of a scuff on his eight-hundred-dollar Allen Edmonds Cap-toe Oxfords. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

All Dallas and I can do is look at each other. Because there’s just no way to answer that.

The first time Lucas left a girl at the altar, it was almost understandable. They were young and they’d rushed into it far too soon. The second time surprised us all, especially considering Simone was one of his best friends.Was. Not anymore. He broke things off with his third fiancée just weeks before the wedding. He said it was because he knew he was going to bail and didn’t want to hurt her.

But with Lissa, we thought things were different. Even after they’d been engaged for over a year, and he insisted he was ready to finally get married, she wouldn’t do it. She just wanted to stay perpetually engaged. She agreed to move in with him, something he’d never done with the others. But she always told him she wasn’t about to be another casualty of Lucas Montana’s doomed love life. It took a long time, but after living together went so well, he finally wore her down and they set a date.

I, for one, am wishing she stood her ground. I could see them as one of those couples who never get married but who have a better relationship than most married couples.

And he went and screwed it all up.

“What the fuck do I do now?” he asks. When neither Dallas nor I speak, he says, “Seriously, what the fuck do I do?”

“That depends,” I say, figuring Dallas isn’t the one who’s going to offer advice about anyone’s love life. “Are you done with her?”

“No, I’m not done with her. I fucking love her.”

Dallas scoffs, looking like he has something to say, but Lucas shuts him up.

“Don’t start. I know I left her there and she probably hates me for it. She was fine with the way things were. She never wanted to get married. I promised her this time would be different. And she… she fucking believed me. And now I’ve gone and fucked up the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He empties the bottle, shaking every last drop into his mouth before tossing it across the grass to join his pile of cigarettes.

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