Page 59 of Scotch & Shortbread

She wished she could stop ruminating, but it had become a shamefully addictive pastime. How was it in the sweet gentle moments they’d spent cuddling, talking, sharing, she’d felt so in tune with him? She’d shared so much about her life with him, and he seemed to get her in a way that only her best friends did. Alex seemed to understand her on a deeper level. Or so she thought. It was painfully confusing, and the more she thought, the less she understood how things had gone so awry.

In between crying, she wrote, and in between writing, she walked around the town trying to feel some sense of the appreciation she’d felt when she’d first arrived here. She wanted to feel normal, but she didn’t. If only she could go back in time and reverse all that had happened. Instead, she just felt a hollowness in her that she couldn’t seem to shake.

On her second walk of the day, she hoped to feel human again but was unable to escape the heaviness in her heart. As she passed by the old brick library, she heard a siren, and her pulse kicked into high gear. Heart thundering, she stood waiting for his truck to come around the corner, waiting for him to come to her. She tucked her hair behind her ear and licked her lips, wondering what he'd say, what she'd say. When an ambulance turned the corner and sped past, Quinn's shoulders slumped, and she chided herself for the momentary excitement she’d felt. What was she thinking? Alex would throw on a siren and come for her in some grand gesture.Stupid. It was a new low when she considered what minor law she could break so he’d come give her a hard time. Mean Hot Cop that she’d grown so effing crazy for. She rolled her eyes at her ridiculousness.

After all the time spent thinking and analyzing every detail of every moment they’d spent together, Quinn came to a surprising realization. There was no doubt in her mind that Alex had a wall around his heart, but what startled her was she’d been guarding her heart too. She didn’t let people in either.

Her best friends, yes, because they knew her heart from the beginning it seemed, but other than her best friends, Quinn hadn’t connected deeply with anyone as an adult. Maybe she was more like Alex than she realized. It was both heartening and disheartening that Alex had tenderly found his way into her soul. She’d trusted him—with everything. She’d given herself wholeheartedly. Something she’d never done before. Now she knew why. Betrayal. It hurt. Badly. He was probably right to keep up his guard.

Good for him, she thought numbly. He wasn’t going through the hell she was. He’d protected himself.Bravo, Alex, she thought bitterly.

Quinn had been through so much in her life. She was convinced she could handle anything that came her way. Yet here she was, pining for a man she’d known for a week. She would have bet her last dollar that he was her soul mate. A few days back, she’d have called it magic. Now she’d call it madness.

Ironically, the pain in her heart somehow translated into some serious creative spells with her book. A few times, she’d sat down and ideas flowed in bursts. Everything else around her felt like shit, but her writing was keeping her sane. Nothing felt like a silver lining at the moment, but if she had to choose something, her writing would be it.

36

Brotherly Love

“Yeneedtofixit.”

“Have ye listened to a fuckin’ word I’ve said,” Alex snapped exasperated.

Alex and Lachlan sat at Alex’s wooden kitchen table with a half-drunk bottle of scotch between them as they argued.

“Aye, ye dumb arse.” Lachlan thumped his hand on the table. “Go grovel and beg fer that woman’s forgiveness. Then we can all get on a plane back to Scotland and make it home in time fer New Year’s fuckin’ Eve.”

Alex couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Of all people, his brother knew better than anyone the hell he’d been through. How could he be so flippant about this? Did he not understand the lass had exploded his world, and he had no idea how to put it back together?

“I cannae. My life was good. No, it was bloody near perfect,” he amended, “before she came along, and now everything feels all off-kilter,” he argued, feeling foul as he gulped back the contents of his glass.

“Jesus Mother of Christ. Yer a complete fuckin’ numpty! I hauled my arse across the giant fuckin' pond because I huv never known ye to be so oot of yer mind.”

Alex gave his brother a black look, sitting back in his chair. “I didnae ask ye to come, did I?”

“Naw, but evidently, ye need somebody to talk some fuckin’ sense inta ya. Ye miserable sod.”

Alex sat pensively, still a little surprised at his brother’s appearance. On Christmas morning, Lachlan’s wife, Violet, had apparently surprised Lachlan with a ticket to come to Canada. His sister-in-law knew that Alex was supposed to be in Scotland over Christmas, and when his plans cancelled, according to Lachlan, she'd insisted that it was “high time” the brothers saw each other.Whatever that meant.

Lachlan also admitted that they were both worried about Alex, which annoyed him immensely. He did not want anyone worrying over him. He was just fine, damn it. And currently, his brother was doing very little to help his mood anyway.

“Ye need me to spell it out fer ye?” Lachlan rubbed his forehead looking desperate for some sleep.

“No’ really,” Alex snapped.

Lachlan groaned, laying his head down on the wooden kitchen table in resignation.

“Listen, I was shocked as shite to get a call from ye this afternoon to come get ye at the airport. Then ye sit at my table, drink my whisky, and try and make it sound like I’m going daft. I’m not." Alex said pointedly.

Lachlan lifted his head and peered at his brother through jet-lagged eyes across the table. “Ye huvnae come up fer air talking about this Quinn West lassie since ye picked me up, so dinnae tell me thatI'mthe one makin' ye sound daft. Ye're doin’ that well enough yerself. And perhaps, I'll keep the eighteen-year-old quarter cask bottle of Cailleach in my case, fer myself. To hell with ye.”

“In yer case? Now? And yer only just mentioning it? Christ, mon.” Alex ignored everything Lachlan said except about the fine whisky.

Lachlan stared at his brother like he was their crazy uncle Rory, who always spouted bizarre conspiracy theories at Christmas dinner.

“If ye haud yer weesht fer a minute and listen, I may go get it.”

“By all means, say wha’ ye huv to say, then let's drink the good stuff. ’Tis Christmas after all,” Alex quipped lightly.

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