Page 44 of Grace on the Rocks

ChapterTwelve

Sweat dripped downBryan’sneck and beaded along his hairline, but it felt good to be working under the brightBarrasun.He’dgone soft in his ten years onIslay, spending more hours indoors with the master distiller than working either his muscles or his hands.

Being up here on the same roof he helped shingle right before he left the only home he’d ever known, the last days he spent with his grandfather—it brought everything full circle in an emotional way he hadn’t anticipated.Probablydidn’t help that he wasn’t sleeping.

He’d left his tablet in the kitchen deliberately so he wouldn’t stay up all night reading, but he couldn’t stop thinking about an awkward fourteen-year-old girl who had lost her abuela and was worried no one would attend her quinceañera.Howmuch ofGracieRioswas hidden within the pages of her book?

Reading it felt like spying, in a way, like nosing through his older sister’s diary.Whichwas ridiculous.Thebook was published—it had won an award forChrist’ssake.Loadsof people had read it before him.Thatwas sort of the point.

But still.Itfelt too personal.

He should’ve spent the whole night locked in his room pouring over his business plan instead of hovering like a creep in the living room, just in case she emerged from whatWesleycalled herauthorial fever.Butwhat if she needed something?Hewanted her to know about the grocery shop he’d done, about the cheese straws and other snacks, to know it was him and notCaitwho’d seen to it.Whyexactly did he care?

He didn’t.Ofcourse he didn’t.Hewas just on the verge of drowning in worry and doubt, and he knew her own skittish nature would make her sharp and blunt at the same time.Everyencounter seemed to sendGracestraight into self-preservation mode, and her cutting wit with just a dash of meanness could pull him out of himself.Hecraved it,Christhelp him.

He wanted to fight with her.

Or, perhaps more accurately, he wanted her to have a go at him, to take him down a peg or two.Hedeserved it for leavingEòghannand his grandad,MaandTeàrlachand his little sister,El—andCait, who’d married, had kids, and divorced all without a little brother to lean on.Hehonestly deserved every insult any of them could hurl, butGracewas a stranger.Itdidn’t sting as much when she gave him what for.

Things had started off well enough trading innocent barbs over cheese straws, but then for some reason he told her about his plans andAlec, and she’d gone all soft—and how was that any help?Heneeded her to voice the insecurities in his head, to make him defend himself, not to be on his side.

“Your dear old granda’ll be spinning in his grave, he will,”EllisStewart, a third cousin on theBuchananside, hollered up atBryan, perfectly willing to put him in his place ifGracewouldn’t.

“If he could do that, then he’d be a zombie, and he wouldn’t give a toss about this house because zombies don’t have brains!”Lùcasyelled down at the old man.

“You watch your mouth, youngLùcas, or your father will hear about it from me.You’ddo well to mind the company you keep.”

Lùc shook his head at the old man and turned back to his work.

“You should’ve stayed gone and let the tourists have it if you’re hell-bent on destroying the old place,”Bryan’sother neighbor,NellieCombe, agreed, with a shrill yip from her little black terrier for punctuation.

“Just going to let them take the piss?”Lùcasasked with a sigh.

“What’s the difference?Iargue my grandad had an eco-warrior’s heart, and they’ll retort that his heart was for the island first and for the home his own grandad constructed after that.”

“You could just growl and look scary.”

Bryan rolled his eyes, involuntarily grumbling deep in his throat.

“Exactly like that,”Lùcasagreed.

“Shut yer yap and lift,”Bryantold him, picking up one end of the solar panel and backing up the ladder when his cousin took up the other end.

“It really doesn’t bother you?”Lùcasasked, his face contorted with frustration.

“Does it you?Thoughtyou were the antihero.”

The boy attempted to shrug, bobbling his end of the panel, andBryan’sheart leaped into his throat, butLùcrecovered and neither of them dropped it.

“Don’t.Ever.Dothat.Again.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, be better,” he snapped, his father’s words tripping off his tongue before he could stop them. “Shite.”Hewinced. “Iapologize,Lùc.Maybeit does get to me a little.”

“Don’t be sorry, be better,”Lùcasparroted back with a grin. “Whydo they care so much what you do, if it’s not hurting them?” he asked quietly.

Bryan thought back to his conversation withGracethe night before, to warm brown eyes and honesty in the kitchen.

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