Page 67 of His Own Heaven

Toby smiled. “Michael sounds like he was a good brother,” he said quietly.

“He was,” she said, hoping Toby didn’t notice the waver in her voice. “Best big brother I could have wanted. He helped me train, and I passed every test with flying colours.”

“I remember those tests,” Toby said with a grunt. Lucy lifted one brow and stared at him until he got the hint and elaborated. “My family tradition is blacksmithing. My dad made all of us go through the training with our local RFS chief. He wanted to make sure we knew what to do in the highly likely circumstance at least one of us would set fire to something.”

A smile curled Lucy’s mouth and she chuckled softly. “And did you? Set fire to something?”

“Not me personally, but I may have been present when Charlie accidentally set our sister’s teddy bear on fire.”

Eyes flaring wide open, Lucy mashed her lips together to suppress her laughter. It didn’t work. “Oh no! Was she upset?”

Toby cleared his throat again. He seemed to do that when he was nervous. “She doesn’t know about it.”

Cocking one brow, Lucy threw him a dubious look. “Surely she would have noticed her teddy was missing?”

A sudden grin jumped to life on Toby’s face. Lucy pressed her hand to her chest to still her racing heart. Her lover was one devilishly handsome man when he smiled at her like that.

“Oh, she definitely noticed. Charlie felt so guilty about what he’d done, he got rid of the bear, then told Abby that Mr Poochie had gone on holiday. For six months he sent her postcards detailing Mr Poochie’s adventures, until finally he wrote one saying he, the bear, was very sorry but he’d decided to stay with a little boy he’d met in Perth who needed him more than Abby, and that he hoped she understood.”

“And she bought that?” Lucy said, gobsmacked by both the ingenuity of Charlie’s plan and the depths he’d plumbed to lie to his sister.

Toby shrugged. “She was eight.”

“How old were you two?”

“Sixteen.”

“Old enough to know better than to lie to your little sister,” she said, her lips twisted in annoyance as an overwhelming sense of sisterly solidarity welled up inside her.

“And your brother never lied to you?” Toby said lightly, bumping his shoulder against hers.

“No, he didn’t,” Lucy said, then shifted uncomfortably as she watched Toby’s expression change. His smile thinned and his eyes narrowed in what she recognised as his silent signal for her to explain herself, one she’d seen often enough over the weekend when they’d had a difference of opinion. “He protected me,” Lucy added, her voice barely a whisper.

Toby’s voice dropped into his familiar growl. “From what?”

Lucy twisted her hands in her lap and took a breath. She’d agreed to always be honest with him. Indeed, she’d insisted upon it, and if this fledgling romance of theirs had any chance of becoming more, she had to tell him everything. Including all the shitty parts of her life she’d rather just forget.

She’d already demanded the same from him and knew she could give no less.

“Not what. Who.” She took another breath then lifted her chin and stared Toby straight in the eyes. “Our mother.”

The instant Toby heard the quaver in Lucy’s voice, he hauled her into his lap and pressed her head into the crook of his neck. He told himself he was comforting her, helping to soothe her, keep her calm as she told him about her past, about her brother.

But the truth was, the haunted look in Lucy’s eyes when she’d mentioned her mother had dragged up so many of his own memories, horrendous, dark, despicable memories, that he’d felt physically ill.

He was the one needing comfort.

“Are you all right?” Lucy’s soft voice reached him through his panic.

Barely.

“Huh?”

“You’re shaking,” she said. Grabbing his shoulders for support, she sat up straighter in his lap and stared at him, examined him with a curiosity he found uncomfortable.

Fighting back his own insecurities, Toby cleared his throat and said, “I’m fine. Please, continue.”

Lucy stared at him for a moment longer before settling against his chest and resting her head under his chin. And he took comfort in her touch, the way her slender fingers stroked over his skin, the way she pressed her lips against the base of his throat before continuing her story.

---