Page 121 of Scotch on the Rocks

“It’s time. This place was mine and your father’s. Now it’s yours. If you want it.”

Mine.

Happiness sprang like wildflowers. I didn’t have to think about it. “Yes.” My voice wobbled. “Of course.Yes.”

“Good.” Standing, she smoothed her skirt in that no-nonsense way of hers. “I need to wash the plane off me … you should shower too before you see that new boyfriend of yours.”

She turned for the door and my mouth gaped. “Boyfriend? How could you know of any boyfriend?”

“I told you, Hank is a busybody.” Her eyes danced. “He’s a good boy, June bug. Hold onto him.”

“What?” I said again, but she disappeared down the hallway.

The second the door closed, I slapped my hands to my face and sank to the mattress. “Feeling fucking sucks,” I whimpered right before another sob wracked my body, tears free falling in an undignified mess of salt and snot.

This was all Callum’s fault. He was the reason I felt so wonderfully overwhelmed. Like I’d been hit by a double-decker bus and couldn’t wait for the next collision. It was exhausting.

Did people feel like this all the time?

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, a heartbeat before the door creaked.

“Sweetheart?” His voice reached me first. Then gentle hands tugged me into arms that felt like they were built for the sole purpose of holding me. Callum tucked me tightly to his chest, like he predicted I was about to break and only he could hold all my pieces together.

37

Callum

Callum: Mum, I’m sorry if I’ve been pushing you these past few months to make decisions you weren’t ready for.

Callum: I just wanted to keep you safe. Both of you.

Mum: You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. You’ve held us together. Been burdened with a weight no parent wishes their child to carry.

Callum: I never saw it as a burden.

Mum: I know. I’ve always been so proud of your big heart. So was your father.

Callum: I’m not sure I ever made him proud.

Mum: You did. All of you, even if he could never show it.

Callum: I love you, Mum, it’s all going to be okay.

Juniper cried so long, I might have worried she’d drown in her tears, if my shirt weren’t soaking all the moisture up.

After a minute of holding her, I lifted her into my arms, planning to set her on the impeccably made bed, then hesitated. I still wore last night’s shirt and kilt and Juniper looked almost as filthy as that day with the cow. I’d get thatstory later, because when she sniffled against my throat, the decision was made.

In the middle of the bed, I curled her into my good side, peppering kisses into her tangled hair. “Why are you crying?”

“Ugh—” She started to answer, only to cut off with another round of wracking sobs.

“Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“Stop being sweet, you’re making it worse.”

I was … confused. The love of my life lay weeping in my arms and she didn’t want me to be sweet to her? “You’ll have to catch me up, sweetheart.”

Her sobs kept coming in a steady stream, so I decided easy questions were the best way to handle this. I smoothed my hand down her spine to her hip, holding her body tight to mine, recalling the thousand times I’d imagined a moment just like this one. Not the crying part, obviously – but offering comfort. I couldn’t bungle it now.

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