Chapter 4: Scandal at the Spring Gala
He paced the floor, hands in his hair. I watched him, amused by his outrage.
He was frustrated and mad: "Mom set that up for you!"
His voice cracked, and for a second, I saw the little boy he used to be. It almost made me want to forgive him.
I sat by the window, watching his outrage, and suddenly smiled.
The sunlight caught the dust motes in the air, swirling around us. I felt oddly calm.
"You haven’t met our guest, Savannah, have you?"
He blinked: "You’re my sister. Of course I came to see you first."
He sounded defensive, like he was trying to convince himself as much as me.
"Well, you’re a girl, sensitive. I’ll get your room back."
He puffed out his chest, ready to play the hero. I almost laughed.
I turned away, hiding the ache in my eyes: "Thanks, Lucas."
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, letting the ache settle. I wanted to believe him, but I knew better.
It’d been a while since I felt cared for.
His concern warmed me, even if it was misguided. I let myself enjoy it, just for a moment.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t hope for it.
Hope was dangerous. I’d learned that the hard way.
But somewhere inside, a longing welled up.
I wanted him to fight for me, to choose me for once.
We’re siblings. Maybe he really could fight fate?
I let the thought linger, sweet and sharp. Maybe this time would be different.
Actually, I didn’t need the room back.
I just wanted him to be on my side, even for a second.
That’d be enough.
Lucas rolled up his sleeves: "Wait, give me fifteen minutes, I’ll fix this."
He grinned, confident as ever, and strode out the door.
I nodded, watching him storm off to find Savannah.
His footsteps echoed down the hallway. I hugged my knees to my chest, waiting.
Fifteen minutes. Then half an hour. Then two hours.
The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching across the floor. Still, no sign of Lucas.
After forever, the doorway was still empty.
I stared at the clock, the minutes dragging by. My hope faded with the daylight.
I laughed at myself.
The sound was bitter, hollow. I should have known better.
I really am a fool.
I wiped my eyes, angry at myself for believing things could change.
I should’ve known—this is the part where Lucas leaves me behind. Just like always.
The story played out, right on schedule. I was alone, just like Mom warned.
Mom was right: men lose their minds when women are involved.
It’s a curse, or maybe just the way things are. Either way, I was done counting on them.
In the Magnolia Room, Lucas was showing off for Savannah.
I watched from the doorway, unseen. He was all smiles, eager to impress.
"Savannah, you really want this tree cut down?"
He jumped down from the old oak and tossed the swing rope aside.
His hands were dirty, his shirt streaked with sweat. He looked proud of himself.
"What, you can’t let it go?" Savannah grinned.
She leaned against the porch railing, her laughter ringing out. Lucas blushed, ducking his head.
Lucas’s ears turned red. "Of course not. It’s just that the tree’s so big, it’s the coolest spot in summer. I’m just worried you’ll get hot."
He tried to sound casual, but I could hear the longing in his voice.
"Don’t worry. I don’t like it, and I don’t need the shade."
She shrugged, dismissive. Lucas nodded, eager to please.
There was a look in Lucas’s eyes I’d never seen before: "Of course."
He kicked the swing frame aside. "Hey, someone cut this tree down."
He barked the order. The gardeners sprang into action. I felt a pang of loss.
Then he saw me at the doorway, his face turning pale.
His bravado faded, guilt flickering across his face.
"Ev—Evelyn, what are you doing here?"
His voice was small, uncertain. I met his eyes, refusing to look away.
I knew I shouldn’t have hoped, shouldn’t have come.
But I couldn’t help it.
I tried to smile: "I was afraid you’d get carried away and upset Savannah. Looks like I was worried for nothing."
I kept my tone light, masking the hurt. Savannah watched me, her expression unreadable.
Seeing I wasn’t mad, he scratched his head, then said, "You don’t know, Savannah is the little girl from the ranch I told you about."
He sounded proud, like he’d uncovered a hidden treasure. I forced a smile.
When Lucas was young, he spent a year at the base with Dad, always talking about a friend from there.
He’d tell stories at dinner, his eyes shining. I never realized Savannah was the girl he missed so much.
So, it was Savannah.
It all made sense now. I felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment.
I smiled, didn’t answer, walked over to touch the tree, and looked at the abandoned swing.
The bark was rough under my fingers, the swing creaking in the breeze. Memories flooded back—Mom pushing me, Lucas laughing beside us.
Mom planted that tree with Lucas when I was born.
She said it would grow as I did, strong and steady. I believed her.
The swing, now tossed aside, was made by him for me when I turned ten.
He’d spent weeks working on it, his hands blistered and proud. I used to think it would last forever.
As the story goes, just like Mom’s death, none of it can be kept.
Everything changes. Nothing stays.
No matter—he’s got his Savannah now. Why would he remember his real sister?
I turned away, swallowing the lump in my throat. I was done expecting anything from him.
Men really can’t be counted on.
I let the thought settle, cold and final.
Lucas hovered around Savannah, eyes full of joy at being reunited.
He followed her everywhere, hanging on her every word. I watched from the sidelines, invisible.
"Dad really is something, didn’t even tell me Savannah was back in town."
He grinned, nudging her playfully. Savannah smiled, her eyes shining.
"I didn’t bring a gift for you. Anything you need, I’ll bring it next time."
He sounded eager, desperate to please. Savannah just laughed, swatting his arm.
Savannah playfully punched his chest.
Her laughter rang out, bright and infectious. Lucas blushed, ducking his head.
"Oh, come on, you helping me fix up the room was enough."
She winked, her charm effortless. Lucas stammered, lost for words.
Lucas blushed and stammered, "It’s nothing…"
He looked at his feet, his cheeks flaming.