“And this is the reason why you think you don’t deserve to fall in love, to live a normal life?”
“Partially,” he agreed. “Also because my father blamed me for Lewis’s death. He began drinking when he got home from the hospital and didn’t stop until he was dead. If Lewis hadn’t died, my father wouldn’t be dead, too.”
“And I suppose if the sky had fallen in that night, that would’ve been your fault too?”
“I…” Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You can’t be responsible for everything, Lucas. Your father’s choices were his own. Who knows, maybe he would’ve lost his job and started drinking, or your mother could have divorced him and that might have started him drinking.” She shrugged. “Some things you can take responsibility for, but not for your father.”
“My actions started it all off. A chain reaction, if you want to see it that way.”
“And what about your mother?”
The warning note in her voice was obvious, it invaded the part of himself he was trying to keep calm. “What about her?”
“How did she feel? Her son was dead, you were seriously injured, and your father was drinking heavily. Who looked after your mother?”
“She had family, friends…”
“You were her family, Lucas.” Her words hit him like physical slaps. He dropped his head into his hands as realisation hit him. He’d failed his mother too. “You’re still her family.”
“I remind her of everything that went wrong with her family.”
“How do you know that?”
“I see it in her eyes every time she sees me.” Every time he saw her distress, it was as though another little piece was razored off his heart. He couldn’t bear her pain.
“Are you sure that’s what you’re seeing? You’re not seeing her own regrets?”
Actually, he hadn’t stopped—ever—to think about how his mother felt. He’d assumed she hated what he’d done the same as his father did and she would never forgive him. Her messages at birthdays and Christmas cards were the type a mother should send to her child. Surely they were sent out of duty and not because of any remaining affection? It was certainly easier to believe the former.
“So this awful, horrendous thing happened to your family and you just decided to stop living your life. You allow yourself to exist from day to day, Lucas. It’s not healthy.”
“You’ve said that before. I live a full life.”
“You don’t,” she disagreed, reaching out a hand and running in along his jaw. “You won’t let me love you, you won’t…”
“Don’t say that.” He couldn’t be responsible for another person’s pain. His shoulders weren’t that broad.
“That I love you?” Frankie looked him directly in the eye. “Because I do. I love you, Lucas.”
He held her hand away from his face. “Don’t do this to me.”
“You?” she exploded. “You? This is all about you, isn’t it? You selfish, arrogant…pig.”
She finished lamely, but her words still stung. He shook his head, unable to find any words to respond to her accusation.
“It’s your fault your brother died, your fault your father died, your fault your mother cries at night because you won’t let her love you, and your fault I fell in love with you? Wow. I don’t know how you sleep.”
He ignored most of what she said. He knew those things, he lived them.
“Wait, what?” He got up from the sofa. “My mother said that? When?”
“When I spoke to her when we were in Astoria. She said a lot more besides.” She sighed. “Why can’t you understand that she loves you, she misses you, and staying away from her perpetuates her pain and fractures her family even further?”
This was new information, something he’d never considered before. He’d always believed he added to his mother’s distress.
“I can’t deal with this.” He stalked over to the window and watched life carry on as normal while inside he was falling apart all over again.
“Don’t be so bloody selfish, Lucas. Your mum is dealing with it. Every day. Alone.”
All traces of compassion had left her voice and a thought occurred to him. “Can you forgive what I did?”
She shook her head. “It’s not for me to forgive you, Lucas.”
He stared at her, unseeing as his vision blurred. She didn’t forgive him. The woman he loved couldn’t forgive his past.
Love.
The word came to him as he tried to sort through his muddled feelings. She thought he was selfish and couldn’t forgive him and he loved her.
He’d kept her close, wanting to find something for her to do with the charity, and so he’d asked her to raise awareness. She’d done it. And he’d let her, even though he knew she didn’t want to remain in front of the cameras, because he hadn’t wanted to be without her.
She was right. He’d used her to fulfil his own needs without a thought for her feelings, for the embarrassment she no doubt felt following the poisonous stories that had been fed to the press by Joey. He’d assumed he knew the answers, was clever enough to work them all out.