Page 85 of Winter’s Fire

“Has Sam said… anything since he arrived?” He was the only one who knew what she’d been up to, and Lucy needed to know how much damage limitation was required if he’d already ratted her out about the mission.

“About what, dear?” Rachel was already heading for the kitchen, her mind clearly on providing sustenance for her offspring, with James, mug still in hand and cake nowhere to be seen, tagging along behind and no doubt hoping to purloin a second helping of both food and beverage.

Given her mother’s propensity for coddling her when her love life went south and the current lack of said coddling, Lucy could only assume Sam had kept his own counsel regarding the conversations they’d had on board his ship before they reached the US. She was glad he had—Logan Simmonds was a problem she wanted to work through on her own, with as little familial interference as possible. Maybe she was growing up at last.

That wasn’t to say, though, that Sam wouldn’t give her a good talking to and a shoulder to cry on if she needed it, once they were on their own. Knowing she could confide in him if need be was a comforting safety net.

“Nothing, Mum. Now where’s that cake?”

Ten minutes later, they were all sitting around the kitchen table, apart from her father and Sam. Conversation buzzed, the topic changing constantly, and although Lucy was involved, she still felt a little detached from the hubbub. I guess that’s what happens when you can’t keep a certain man out of your mind.

Jack Winter announced his arrival with a slam of the front door, a brisk stomp down the hall, and a bellow of his daughter’s name easily loud enough to match that of his sons. In their case, no one would even dream of accusing the fruit of falling far from the tree. Lucy’s brothers were unquestionably their father’s sons.

“Dad!” Lucy jumped up and hurled herself into her father’s arms, uncaring of the grubby work clothes he was still wearing. Hell, she’d grown up on the farm, and had spent more time up to her ears in more dirt than most of her school friends would see in a lifetime.

“Let me get cleaned up, bonnie lass, and then I want to hear all your news. Rach?”

“Kettle’s already on, love. You’ve got five minutes.”

With Sam’s sweaty arrival moments later, her family was complete. Lucy wrapped herself in the cocoon of their love. This was home—here, not in London… and somewhere Logan would never find her.

~~*~~

Lucy had just finished unpacking when a quiet double knock alerted her to the presence of a visitor. Her money was on Sam, and the possibility that the conversation she’d been dreading was now waiting outside her bedroom door.

Arms crossed, he was leaning against the doorframe, wearing an expression that said she wasn’t going to wriggle out of this one. As a child, she’d usually been able to finagle her way out of trouble with all her brothers except Sam. It looked as if that wasn’t about to change any time soon.

“Want to come in?” She stood back, almost using the door as a shield. If he was there to talk about anything that included Logan, it was a chat she’d prefer to have in private.

She closed the door behind him, and when she turned to face him, he held out his arms.

“Come here, sis.”

She’d held it together through all the hugging that had taken place when she’d arrived, but knowing Sam was more aware than any of them of what she’d been through and what had happened with Logan, this time it demolished her defences. She let Sam put his arms around her, and the floodgates opened. Together they sat on the bed while Lucy wept away her pain, stress and anxiety.

“Thanks for not saying anything to Mum and Dad about… you know.”

“Not my place to tell them, but I do think you need to let them know what’s been going on. Has Sir Guy arranged for you to have any counselling?” her brother asked, his voice quiet, soothing, and non-judgemental.

“Yes—he more or less gave me an order.”

“Good, someone needs to. Luce, you haven’t had the training to deal with what you went through, and even hardened professionals need help sometimes. You’ve heard the stories about some of the guys we’ve served with.”

Lucy nodded and sighed. “I know. I’ll make the appointment when I go back to London after Mum’s birthday, I promise.”

“I think that’s wise. So does any of this have anything to do with Simmonds?” He made a vague gesture that Lucy took to define “this” as her distress. “Because if it does, I’ll be first in line to castrate the bastard. I should have done it at sea, and fed his shrivelled little gonads to the sharks.”

Lucy’s tears dried immediately and she looked directly at her brother. In spite of everything, the compulsion to defend the man she loved, even if he didn’t want her, was still fierce. “Even if it did, that would be between him and me, and to be blunt, none of your business. And leave his balls alone.” She plucked a couple of tissues from the box on the side table, and blew her nose.

“Please don’t tell me the fucking idiot did actually choose that bitch instead of you?”

Indignation clamped her lips shut for a moment. “No one can help who they fall in love with, Sam—you should know that.”

Her sibling glanced away, and Lucy instantly regretted what she’d said. He didn’t need a reminder of the fiancée who’d called off their wedding while he was on deployment, just weeks before it was due to take place. She squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it, it’s history, and I am well over her.”

From his reaction, Lucy doubted he was as well over his ex as he thought. Far be it from her to comment, though. “How about if we change the subject? There’s something else I didn’t tell you all earlier.”