My mouth drops open. “Shit. Is Lachlan in trouble?”
Brigs frowns, his blue blue eyes becoming positively icy. “Hard to say. I don’t think so. Lachlan is a hard-hitter and sometimes he doesn’t know his own strength. The coach knows that. Fuck, he encourages it from him. But even if the team isn’t concerned, Lachlan is to blame if Denny isn’t better by the first game.”
I’m not even sure how to process that. The last thing Lachlan needs is blame.
I’m fumbling for words, wanting to hear from Brigs that everything is going to be all right but Lachlan comes out of the kitchen, eyes on the ground, brushing past us to the door.
“Where you going?” Brigs asks him.
“For a walk,” Lachlan mumbles, shutting the door behind him.
“I should go after him,” I tell Brigs but he puts his hand on my shoulder.
“Give him space,” he says, giving me an imploring look. “Believe me.”
“He just must feel so horrible.” I cross my arms across my chest, feeling cold all of a sudden. I don’t want Lachlan to go for a walk, alone, lost to his inner torment. He needs me to be there, to pull him out of the dark.
“I reckon he felt something horrible to start with,” Brigs says. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have hit so hard.” He gives me a steady look, placing his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I don’t profess to know about your relationship with Lachlan. I barely know my own relationship with him sometimes. You know, I was just leaving school when we brought him into the family. I’d grown up with a lot of foster brothers and sisters coming in and out of the house but for some reason Lachlan stuck, even though he was nearly impossible to get to know. My mum saw something in him and didn’t want to give up. I suppose he saw the same in us. But it was a rough ride. And I was so angry at him, at this young fuck who acted like we didn’t do anything for him. I just didn’t understand his demons.” He pauses, looking away, his expression pained. “I do know though. I know what it’s like to live in guilt, to believe you have no worth at all. I do.”
He clears his throat and looks at the floor. “I’ve been going through some stuff, to put it mildly. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for Lachlan, a long time ago, when he needed it. I’ll be there for him now though, you can bet on that. The thing is,” he glances at me, “he’s reverting. Slowly but surely. I don’t know why, I can only guess. It’s never not going to be an issue though. He’s never going to shed his past because his past made him who he is. People with addictions…it’s na?ve to think they’ll one day be cured. That’s not how it works. It’s an ongoing illness, you see? An illness for which there is no real cure, just a way to manage it. And he can’t manage it alone. He needs people around him who are supportive. You understand?”
His tone makes me a bit defensive. “I understand. I am there for him.”
“I know. You care a lot about him.”
I stand up straighter. “I love him,” I say, my voice soft but my words strong.
“That’s even better,” he says. “But sometimes love is not enough. You have to know that he’s going to hurt you again and again and again and you’re going to have to learn to love him even when you hate him. That’s the reality. That’s the facts. You need to know that if you truly love Lachlan and want to be there for him, want to see him out of this hell, you’re going to be put through the ringer and spat out. And it will keep on happening. It’s the ugly truth and not many people are built for that kind of responsibility.”
He’s watching me closely for my response but I’m still feeling so defensive that I barely let the words in. He doesn’t know the kind of person that I am, what I’ve gone through in my own life.