Matt followed behind and winced. “I tried to tell her to not get mad and listen, but she wasn’t having any of it. Everything okay?”
“Not even remotely.” Luke watched Iz head down the hall.
“You want to give me a clue as to what she’s doing here? Because it dawned on me this morning when I got your text that it might not just be because she missed you. Is she . . .?”
Luke turned to his best friend. The man who had stood with him through thick and thin, except for the one time he’d let him down in the biggest way possible, when he’d fallen for his sister. “Yeah.”
“Shit. Fake it. Doesn’t matter how you feel,” Matt whispered. “She’s in your life forever. Fake it until you’ve found your feet, mate.”
Luke followed his sister into the living room, trying to fix a reassuring smile on his face. He’d been holding on until he’d spoken to Matt. Reality was smacking him about the face harder than he hit his snares during their song, “Truth and Anger”. “Izabel, this is Willow. Willow, my sister Iz.”
“Hey, Willow,” Izabel said, looking around the decorating in progress. “Is he really making you paint his hovel?”
Willow smiled. And it wasn’t the one she’d shown him during the night they’d spent together. When she’d let him instruct on what he wanted and how he wanted it. It was fake, like the one she used in her videos. He figured he was probably one of the few who knew the difference.
And like Matt had suggested he do, she was faking it.
“Nice to meet you, Iz. And I offered to help clean up as thanks for letting me stay.”
“You’re staying? For how long?”
Willow looked at him, and he reached for her hand. They hadn’t talked, he hadn’t told her what he was thinking, how they should play it. Fuck, he didn’t even know. “It’s a story I only want to tell once. But you should know first. Congratulations, Iz. You’re going to be an aunt.”
With wide eyes, Izabel looked between him and Willow. “You mean you . . . you’re . . . I’m . . . ?”
Luke huffed a laugh. “If you mean is Willow pregnant with my baby? Yes. Biologically, that makes you the baby’s aunt.”
“Oh my God. Is this . . . are you happy about it? Both of you?” Izabel pegged him with a sympathetic stare.
She thought he was happy to have no responsibilities. To have the freedom to live his life and play his music however he wanted to. He tipped his chin. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“It’s a lot,” Willow answered, truthfully.
“I’ll bet. So not planned, then?” Izabel asked.
Luke shook his head. “Definitely not planned.”
Izabel turned to him. “Is it wrong to ask if you’re definitely keeping it?”
“Yes. It is,” Willow cut in curtly. “It’s ultimately my choice and I’m keeping it. It’s nobody else’s choice but mine, not even Luke’s.”
Luke mentally flinched at her words. “Nobody’s dictating what you do, Will. Iz knows this wasn’t in my plans. She’s just looking out for me.” He slipped his arm over Willow’s shoulder and pulled her to his side, hoping to reassure her, but her body remained tense. “We’re figuring shit out, Iz,” he said. “Just be happy, yeah? We’ll be back in a minute.”
He led Willow to the bathroom. Neutral territory. Their confessional. He thought about how they’d talked in there when she’d first arrived, with his head reeling from alcohol and shock.
“I’ve not explained why this is hard for me to get my head around. My dad died when Iz was fifteen. My mum couldn’t cope. I was left in charge at nineteen. I had to drop out of school and get a job to make ends meet. A shit job I hated, as our music hadn’t taken off.”
“Luke,” Willow said, placing her hands his hips. “I’m so sorry.”
“Then Mum fell for Dad’s best friend and left us to fend for ourselves when Iz was seventeen. I was stuck looking after my sister. I don’t want to feel like a parent again. I was shit at it. But I’m here. Luke, dad-to-be, I’m here. Every step. I’ll sign your contract if it makes you feel better about being here. I want this to feel like a happy, no-stress time for you.”
Willow blew out a breath and he felt the tension leave her body. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at him with tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.
“Hey, don’t cry. Not sure I’m equipped for tears.”
Willow waved a hand in front of her face in frustration. “Hormones. Honestly, I cry at anything.”
“And yet you didn’t. You made the flight over here, found your way to an event I was at, and told me what happened in the bathroom here, you’ve made the best of things.”
“You didn’t see me in the business-class lounge bathroom when they announced the plane was delayed. Or when I needed to pee in the custom’s line.”
“Hormones or not. It’s a brave thing you’ve done. For you and the . . . what do we call it?”
“Baby?” she asked.
“No. Like, don’t they have names for them when they are still inside.”
“You mean like foetus?”
Luke shook his head. “No, nicknames. Like, shit . . . I don’t even know.”
“Oh, right. Well, there’s bump, bean, sprout?”
“Those are shit. Wait. I’ve got it. Cletus the Foetus.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “You can’t name it that.”
“Why not. I think it’s great. Cletus. Baby Cletus.”
“It’s awful. I think there is a reason no one is called Cletus anymore.”
Luke placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re forgetting Cletus Kasady, offspring of Venom. Marvel Universe.”
“Oh my God, please don’t tell me you’re a cosplaying, Comic-Con fanboy.”
Luke grinned. “No, but I was a kid in the nineties.”
“Phew. For a moment I was worried.”
“We don’t know much about each other, do we?”
Willow shook her head. “No. But I know you didn’t kick me out, so that tells me something.”
As if. “Again. The absolute bare minimum, Will. Like one step above doing nothing.”
“Nobody has ever done anything for me unless there was something in it for themselves. I’m sick of that.”
He heard the front door slam. “Sounds like the guys are here. Let’s go tell them what we’re doing.”
“You’re sure we can trust them?”
“With my life.”
“Can I be honest?”
“Of course.”
“I read some things about you all. Big falling outs and fights. Won’t they ever be tempted to sell you out?”
Luke considered her question for only a moment. “No. We’re a family. A sometimes dysfunctional one. But a family at the root of it all.” And yet, he’d not been acting like a functioning member of late. How many years had it been since Jase had let him down? How many times would Matt have to apologise before he felt it down in his bones? “Come on, let’s get you and Cletus comfortable before we start.” He placed his hand on her lower back as they left, but quickly removed it. Getting handsy with her was as natural as breathing, but it wouldn’t help either of them. She was right when she’d said they needed healthy boundaries.