I knew Lucian's number by heart.
I'd called it so many times over the years. So many times every day, practically. I knew he'd have the same number, because Lucian hated change the way some people hated colonoscopies.
I didn't know if he'd want to hear from me.
I drank the whole glass, set it down with a thump, and called.
It rang four times. Unknown number, of course, he might not answer. I bit my lip. Come on, Lucian. Come on.
Please.
On the fifth ring, he picked up. "Yeah?"
That one gruff syllable brought tears to my eyes. I struggled to catch my breath, probably sounding like a prank caller of the prurient kind. Ian's voice.
My cousin's voice. The person I'd always loved more than anyone else in the world, even though I'd shown it by fucking, and fucking over, the guy he'd wanted for himself and working with someone Lucian had thought was human pond scum.
