Page 35 of The Grand Ruin: Lance & Scarlet-Part One

My breath hitches as shivers snake down my spine.

I look up at him as realisation hits.

It was him.

In the lift.

Lance held my hand?

“You can’t stay?” His brows drag together, and I swallow, a little overwhelmed by the memory of darkness.

Twenty-eight years old, and I’m terrified of the dark. I smile at the beautiful, chequered tiles beneath our feet, knowing it’s time to leave and go home. “Be happy, Lance,” I tell him, finally finding a smile. “It’s what yourwifewants for you.” I go up on my tippy-toes and whisper in his ear, “She’ll find great pleasure inthat.”

I leave the gala alone. Because home isn’t a place my brother can face right now, and Lance Sullivan isn’t someone I can hold in my hands.

Not when everything else feels like it’s spilling over.

SIX

Scarlet

One Year Later

“Mason will be here for your dinner this evening.” My dad’s voice floats into the spare room as he walks past the door. I quickly rise from my spot on the ground and rush after him. He’s slow, likely in pain, so I catch him as he approaches the landing.

“Dad, wait! Did you say Mase is coming over?” Something deep inside of me baulks at my wishful thinking. I frown, dropping the paintbrush I’m holding up to my side. “I misheard you, sorry. What did you say?”

His lip curls as he braces his thinning frame on the banister. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic, but no, you didn’t mishear me. Your brother will be joining us for dinner, along with the Montgomerys and Charlie.”

“Shit,” I say in disbelief. “Is he feeling okay?”

Dad chuckles, shaking his head and then cringing as he turns and walks further down the hall toward the east wing. “In all fairness, I thought the same.”

I quickly catch up with him, linking our arms to give him a subtle aid. “So you didn’t have to beg him?”

“I didn’t. I told him you were cooking and asked if he wanted to invite anyone other than the boys.”

“You didn’t give him the option.” Sneaky, I like it. “So he only went along with it because it’s my birthday tomorrow, and he didn’t want to feel guilty.”

“He’s coming. Let’s make the most of it, hmm?”

I smile up at him, grateful that he’s bothered to invite the family over when he’s likely feeling rotten. “I’m going to drive down to the village. Get some more bits for dinner. Are you okay here while I’m out?”

“I’m fine. I have a headache and will likely take a nap.”

He eases into the chair beside his bed as I watch on from the doorway, my heart hurting to see him fading away from what he once was. “And Scarlet, I’ll be down to help you cook. Or you can call in someone to help you. Robert and —”

“I’ll be fine, Dad. You know I love it.”

He nods. Just nods as if he doesn’t have the energy to argue with me.

The past year has been hard—maybe the hardest yet. He’s had constant appointments at the hospital while doctors and specialists try to figure out what can be done to make him better, but every option so far has had side effects that seem to trigger something new—occasionally worse. His body’s failing him; it’s heartbreakingly obvious. It’s not just his organs giving up. It’s his spirit. That shine for life that keeps us on this side of the track, it’s fading.

And I’m terrified that soon it’ll fade to complete darkness.

“Get some rest, Dad. I’ll be back soon.”

I spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen preparing my brother’s favourite food. I’ve made side dishes and dessert and took nearly an hour in the wine cellar, picking out some of our favourite labels for the evening. Everything will be perfect when Mason arrives.

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