Page 38 of Craving Consequences
With no words, I shove the limes into her hands and nudge her in the direction of the patio table.
She goes with a little huff and I watch her until the weight of their eyes on me is unavoidable. Each one burns hotter than the ball of fire beating down on us. They hold me in place as my friend drops the bowl in an empty spot and locates her phone. She doesn’t even glance over when losing herself in the screen.
“Do I want to know why she needs to know about my friends?” Lachlan asks with the not so subtle folding of his arms.
I grimace even as I force myself to face them. “She’s just being silly.”
Lachlan hums softly, but doesn’t push me for answers. Van barely moves. His entire focus stays rooted to my face like he’s trying to paint every line to memory.
The intensity of both their attention has me shifting. My gaze is too self-conscious to maintain contact. it slips shyly to the side where the BBQ is still smoking into the clear sky.
“I’ll set the table,” I say like the coward I am.
Neither stop me when I hurry away from them, but their gazes burn into the curve of my spine as I reach the preparation table laden with all the things that need to get carried to the main patio area.
Lauren doesn’t make any attempt to help. She never does unless she’s harassed into it, and I don’t try. Her grumbling isn’t worth it, and it’s never done right when she does it. I’m not an obsessive person, but I do like some order when completing a task.
Still, she peeks up over her phone when I cart the items over. Her big, blue eyes shine with mischief that has me pausing before setting the plate down.
“What did you do?” I accuse with an arched eyebrow.
She flips her phone off and sets it down next to the plate I place before her. “Can’t I just be happy to see your beautiful face?”
My eyes narrow, suspicion crawling up the back of my neck. “Lauren...”
“Nothing!” she cries, throwing her hands up, palms up in surrender. “I swear.”
Anyone else, I would almost believe her, but I have known Lauren a long time and she’s never not up to something.
Still, I let it slide for now as I return to gather the rest of the items. I pass Van on the stone pathway, his big hands wrapped around a plastic tray containing our drinks.
Our eyes briefly lock in passing before I look away.
With everything set and our plates full, we circle the table with Van and Lachlan taking the heads and Lauren and I seated across from each other. There’s an empty seat on both our ends. Mine occasionally holds Bron when I can stop him from being a jerk and actually attend dinners at his own house. It’s a pain for me that he considers his father the antichrist and any amount of time in Lachlan’s presence is deemed blasphemous.
I tried once to ask why he loathed his father so much. My answer was to mind my own business and I dropped it. But it never made sense to me. Lachlan is serious and firm, but there’s a sweet, soft side to him that I want to curl up into.
Plus, I’ve seen how he tries with Bron. He may not approve of the things his son does, but he was there when Bron needed money to pay for everything he needed to become a real estate agent. He lives in Lachlan’s house and pays for nothing. He’s invited to everything to spend time with Lachlan and he only does when he needs something in the end.
Still, it’s not my business. Whatever Bron’s reasoning is to hate his father, it’s between him and Lachlan.
“Everly?”
I blink out of my thoughts and glance at the man on my left. “Sorry?”
Lachlan spears a blade of zucchini on the silver prongs of his fork. “Have you heard from Bron today?”
The fact that I find myself forever making excuses for Bron, lying for him is only a sliver of a reason why I struggle to love him the way I wish I could.
“Briefly, earlier,” I murmur, lowering my gaze to my plate to avoid lying directly to his face. “He apologized for not being able to come, but he got caught up in work.”
Lies.
Bron is holed up somewhere with his obnoxious friends.
I know Lachlan knows I’m lying. It’s an unspoken fact between us, but he’s never called me on it. Maybe he’s not into shooting the messenger. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful for it, even if I feel gross about it.
“I keep telling her it’s not fair how he’s treating her,” Lauren pipes, aggressively mashing her baked potato with her fork. “Everly isn’t a second thought just to pass the time.”
