Page 122 of Scotch on the Rocks

“You’re upset about something?”No shit, Sherlock. She started to nod, then shook her head, strands of hair catching on my shirt buttons. “You’re not upset?”

“No.”

“Let me make sure I’m following … you’re crying but aren’t upset and I can’t be sweet to you?”

“Exactly.” She sniffled, using my shirt as a tissue.

Cupping her damp cheek, I tipped her head back, taking in the streaks of dirt and tracks of tears, waiting until her puffy eyes cracked open before I said, “There’s one problem with that, Juniper. I plan on being fucking sweet to you for the rest of my life.”

Her entire body melted, head tipping to my shoulder where she made this little choking sound. I caught the fresh tear with my thumb before it could fall. “This fucking sucks.”

I chuckled. “A relationship?”

“All the crying that comes with it.” Pushing up slightly, she swiped her hands over her cheeks. “Being emotionally stunted was so much easier.”

“You weren’t emotionally stunted.” She shrugged like she disagreed, but I’d always seen what lay beneath the surface. It’s why there’d never been a choice in loving her. “You found Shakespeare?”

She nodded. “First thing this morning. I think I was more distressed than she was.”

I sighed with relief. “Good … that’s good. I knew you would. I’ll check her over later.” She nodded, still lost in whatever thoughts were dragging her under. “And then your mum came home – I ran into her in the hallway,” I explained at her quizzical look. “Was she angry?”

“No.” She shook her head. “She loved it, that’s the problem. I think I might be …happy.”

She said the words like a person might say fungal infection. “Do you think it’s contagious?”

“Shut up.” She slapped my chest, and I caught her hand there. “For weeks you’ve been killing yourself to help me and – your dad! Shit.” She suddenly gasped, throwing a hand over her eyes. “See… I’ve been lying here letting you comfort me and I didn’t even ask about your dad. Is he all right?”

“Yes, you did. That was literally the first thing you asked me.” At least I thought it was. Her speech had been too muffled to fully make out, but I’d gotten the gist around the third repetition. “He’s fine. Safely back at home with only a few butterfly stitches and an order to rest.”

“Your mum?”

“Shaken. I think I’m finally understanding how hard this has been on her.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s always been this little resentful part of me that wondered why she stayed with him. Why she never stood up to him.” I fiddled with her hair.

“She was scared of him?”

“Not in any physical way. But I think he smothered her. His personality was so big it often left little room for anything else.”

Her hand met my chest, rubbing in a soothing circle. “It can be hard to walk away from a relationship like that, when you don’t know how to be without them.”

“Aye,” I agreed sadly. And even harder to watch that person slowly slip away from you, day by day. “But she’d always find ways to make it easier on us. He used to have this stupid rule about no sugary food in the house, so every day after school she’d take us to Brown’s and let us pick out whatever treat we wanted. When he eventually found out, he didn’t even try to fight her on it.”

“The neck that turns the head,” she hummed. “What did you pick out?”

“An oat and raisin cookie. Obviously.”

Her laugh brushed over my lips. “I’m impressed with the level of commitment it takes for a seven-year-old to be that boring.”

I was on her in a flash, tickling her side until she squealed, but her eyes were still a little sad. “I should have come with you to Portree, you’ve done so much for me—”

“Nope.” I could already see where her mind was taking her. Scooping her around the waist, I lay back, planting her in my favourite spot with those long legs either side of my chest. I suspected that she loved it too because her cheek immediately lowered to my heart. “None of that. You’re allowed to have a crappy few weeks and ask for help.”

“I didn’t exactlyask.”

“Precisely. I wanted to help you.” Lifting my legs, I settled her firmly into the V. “Just like you did that day in the village with my dad, when you helped get him to the car, even after all that shit he said to you. I swear I was so close to losing it; I had no idea what to do. Then you handled him so easily I think I fell in love with you all over again.” She still looked unconvinced, and I realised she truly didn’t get it. “For the better part of a year I’ve been going through the motions, rushing between work and my family, sleeping on my parents’ pull-out on the nights Mum couldn’t cope alone. You were right when you said I didn’t have time for all of this,” I waved a hand around the room. “But Iwantedto have the time. You woke me the fuck up, sweetheart, not a single second I’ve spent with you has been a chore.” There was no way this woman couldn’t understand her value. I wouldn’t allow it. “No more waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ever.”

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