The Player and the Pixie
Page 80

Ronan flinched. Clearly my words had caught him completely off guard. He opened his mouth to respond. I cut him off, renewed irritation flaring at his apathy and inaction.
“She needs help, Ronan. She’s not something to be ashamed of, sent away.”
He sputtered for a moment before lamely explaining, “I didn’t send her away. I thought that it had stopped— I thought she wasn’t—”
“Well, clearly tonight’s events prove that you’re wrong,” I reprimanded. “And this isn’t the first time I’ve come across her flexing this compulsion. Your mother is obviously a bad influence, so I blame her. You know Lucy doesn’t steal unless that blasted woman is around, driving her to do it.”
Ronan continued looking at me as though I’d grown a rugby ball for a head until I glowered at him and added, “And I blame you, too.”
“You blame me?” he asked stupidly, eyes wide.
“Yes. You’re her brother. You should be watching out for her, not ignoring her cries for help.”
“Her cries for help?” he parroted, looking even more stunned.
“Yes,” I ground out through clenched teeth, losing my patience. A growl rumbled from my chest. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Ronan. Could you spare a moment in your self-absorbed little bubble to think of your lovely sister? She’s . . . magnificent and wonderful and selfless and needs you. And where are you?”
“Where am I?” That question he asked with a slight grin.
It infuriated me.
“I don’t know. But you’re not taking care of her, are you?” I challenged, daring him to contradict.
He studied me, his gaze coolly assessing. It took me several moments to see through my own irritation before I realized he was no longer angry. Or, at least, he didn’t appear to be.
“Hmm.”
Then he nodded, turned, and walked away.
And I watched him go, a frown of stunned confusion on my face. Finally finding my voice, I called after him, “Where are you going?”
“To talk to Lucy,” he called back over his shoulder, almost cheerfully. Then added, “And, for Christ’s sake, Sean. Go put some socks on. You can’t run in bare feet.”
Chapter Twenty
@LucyFitz Up, down, up, down… I AM SO READY FOR SOME CALM F%$&ING WATERS!
*Lucy*
After Bryan and William escorted me to the suite, I found Annie and Broderick sharing a late night cup of cocoa in the lounge area. Honestly, I would’ve found the sight adorable if I hadn’t been so distressed. Annie saw the look on my face and quickly stood, coming to wrap her arms around me.
“What happened?” she asked with concern.
I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying and shook my head. “I’m the worst sister in the world.”
Annie placed her hands on my arms just above the elbows and gave me a reassuring squeeze. “Surely, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”
My non-response was a tangle of self-recrimination. “Annie, your wedding is tomorrow. Yours and Ronan’s. And I’m a selfish harpy. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Lucy, calm down. Just tell us what happened.”
My panicked eyes met Broderick’s over her shoulder and he gave me a flat, mollifying smile. “Did the shit hit the fan?”
I nodded, covering my face with my hands. “Why am I this way? Why can’t I just be normal?”
“No one wants you normal.” Annie wrapped her arm around my shoulders.
“But you and Ronan—”
“We’re not talking about Ronan and me. We’re talking about you.”
“So Ronan found out? How did he take it?” Broderick cut in, sounding sympathetic. I didn’t deserve sympathy.
“Okay, someone fill me in here.” Annie tugged my hands away from my face. “What is going on?”
“I have . . .” I started, stopped, took a deep breath, and started again. “I have a problem, Annie. I’ve been keeping a secret.”
“Secret? Don’t you mean secrets?” How Broderick managed to say that and still sound sympathetic was beyond me. He was a Jedi master of being likable.
“Broderick . . .”
“Someone fill me in before I explode with curiosity. What could possibly have you this upset?” Annie lifted her voice, glancing between the two of us.
I opened my mouth to confess, but Broderick beat me to it. “Lucy is a compulsive shoplifter and she slept with Sean Cassidy.”
Annie gasped.
I glowered.
Broderick shrugged.
“You were beating around the bush. Now it’s out there and you didn’t have to say it. You’re welcome.”
“Is this true?” Annie asked, her eyes wide with concern.
Concern.
Not judgment.
I sighed dejectedly and flung myself into one of the suite’s club chairs, again burying my face in my hands. “I just tried to steal two hundred euros of golf balls.”
“Holy shit. That’s a lot of golf balls.” Broderick gave a low whistle.
Now I was crying. Not big, gusty sobs crying. Just quiet, I-am-the-worst-person-in-the-world-lament crying. “It’s not really. It’s only about twelve balls. They’re just really expensive here.”
“Okay, wait.” Annie pulled her chair close to mine and gently pulled my hands from my face. She gave me a coaxing smile. “Start from the beginning.”