Page 106 of Stolen for Keeps
Elia and I stepped into Whiskey & Barrel, where the scent of woodsmoke drifted from the stone fireplace near the back. Something sizzled on the flat-top in the kitchen, probably steaks. The place wasn’t packed, just comfortably full. Patrons filled the booths, nursing drinks and swapping gossip, while a country song hummed from the corner speakers.
“Long overdue,” Elia muttered as we reached the bar. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten how to drink whiskey.”
I snorted. “You mean drink whiskey with you.”
He tipped his glass at me. “Same thing.”
I was about to fire back when I felt it—the weight of a few lingering stares. Locals.
Elia hadn’t set foot in Whiskey & Barrel much before Claire. Even after they got married, his visits were rare. He kept to himself.
And I’d been the same since coming back. Too busy building a life in Buffaloberry. Too focused on Maya. Maybe too focused on pretending the past didn’t still scrape at my heels.
The stares weren’t rude. Just cautious. Curious.
Everyone in this town knew what happened to the Lucas family. They were probably just wondering why, after all this time, the two remaining brothers finally came in together.
Elia gave me a tug, pulling me away before I could look again. I knew better than to let them get under my skin. I owed my brother a night without trouble.
We followed the waitress to our table.
Neither of us said much as we slid into the booth. The air between us wasn’t tense, exactly. Just…full. Like there was too much history sitting between us, waiting for its turn to speak.
Elia picked up the menu and flipped through it like he gave a damn what was on it. I did the same, knowing full well we’d both order whiskey before food.
The silence stretched.
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “Alright. Enough of this. We’re not actually here for the whiskey, are we?”
Elia smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It helps.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, “I bet.” I set the menu down, meeting my brother’s gaze head-on. “El…I’m sorry.”
His brow furrowed. “For what?”
“For leaving.” My throat tightened. “For not being there when you needed me.”
Elia studied me for a long moment before shaking his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“The hell there isn’t.”
“If you took me here to hear me lash you out with what you should’ve done, you won’t get it, Noah.”
“Because you won’t?”
“No. Because I never believed any of it was your fault,” Elia said.
I gritted my teeth, frustration burning through me. “Don’t look at me like I’m some helpless kid. I should’ve stayed.”
He exhaled, not with anger, not with disappointment. Just understanding.
He said, “Whether you like it or not, you’re my little brother. I was supposed to look out for you. I was the one who failed.”
I stiffened. “That’s not true. None of us failed. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t wrong you when I left.”
He let out a scoff, one filled with something close to self-loathing. “Oh, Noah. I should’ve kept her safe.” His throat worked. “And where was I that night? With Log. Sneaking a freaking goat onto Mrs. Taylor’s porch and drinking like a billy cut loose. Meanwhile, Tessa—” He broke off, his jaw tight.
I knew how that sentence ended.
