Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
T he fire smoldered down to embers, but still Bryan sat, watching as the sparks died out one by one. At least the biochar had worked, so the night wasn’t a complete failure. It gave off an appealing scent, though of course the true test would be in the barley flavors it evoked, but he was definitely on the right track.
Too bad he couldn’t seem to enjoy it.
I get that you can bang anyone and everyone. I ’ m like, the complete opposite of that.
The pressure of her hand was still imprinted on his chest, cutting off his words. Pushing him away. Stopping the retort that it had, in fact, been quite a long time since he’d banged anyone at all.
He took a deep slug of Rionnagach to burn her touch and her words away, but they were still there as sure as he still had skin. Maybe if he got to the bottom of the bottle, he would figure out why things kept going sideways just when they started to feel the most right.
His cousins liked to take the piss, but had he really given the impression he was some kind of skanky island Lothario ? On an endless loop, he replayed every interaction of the last two weeks. He had flirted a little. There’d been some innuendo. In the midst of flirting, he’d made a glib joke about being bisexual, as he often did, a gentle way of coming out early to avoid a future big serious conversation.
Was the flirting so wrong when she waltzed around his house wearing those librarian shirts? Naughty Librarians Have No Shelf Control ? Come on.
And for the record, she hadn’t seemed to mind the flirting, so what just happened?
Sure, he was more of a serial dater than long-term relationship material, but he was hardly a player. He just called it early when it became clear things wouldn’t work. Why drag out the inevitable?
After another long slow sip of whisky, he was willing to admit this might be one of those times.
And yet…
Like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to the fire inside her that would knock down whole walls and tell off whole com-munities for not giving him the credit she thought he deserved.
You don ’ t need me to speak for you or over you…
Tonight, it had seemed like it was them against the world. She truly had his back out there—until it was just the two of them. Then she jumped to conclusions and put words in his mouth like marbles.
The last little bits of his firewood hissed and went out, but he didn’t want to go inside, so he pulled up the football on his phone. The Wi - Fi signal was terrible this far from the house. LA wasn’t even playing, and the Portland and Seattle players kept stopping and starting like a game of freeze tag, but Bryan couldn’t bring himself to go inside.
“Mind if I join you?” Wesley asked, dropping onto the chair next to his. “ Something smells really good.”
The whisky made him slow to respond, but seeing as she hadn’t waited for an answer, he supposed it didn’t really matter. He waved one hand in magnanimous welcome and glanced sideways at her. Either it was his imagination or her lips were red and kiss-swollen. As predicted, she still wore his cousin’s plaid.
“I’ll bring down another chair when Gray gets back,” she said, so obviously fishing she almost looked embarrassed.
“She won’t be back. It’s all yours.”
Wes studied him for a second, and Christ but he didn’t want to talk about it. Not with her. With his luck, she’d give him all the gory details of a hot and heavy night with his cousin.
“Are you watching… American soccer?” she finally asked, mercifully changing the subject.
“Aye,” he said, handing her the bottle of Rionnagach .
She lifted it in thanks and took a swig.
Once the burn subsided, she nodded to his phone and asked, “ Don’t they expatriate you for things like that?”
He exhaled a pretend laugh.
“Well, if they do run you out of here, you can always come to Tennessee . We can’t get enough of whisky there. They’d be all over you.”
He nodded once. Appealing as that offer sounded, he already knew Grace would be the only reason he’d ever go to Tennessee .
“For what it’s worth,” Wes offered, “ I admire what you’re doing.”
She was sweet, but Bryan scoffed. What was there to admire? Pissing off the entire island? Tearing down a piece of history?
“No, really. It’s like Gray with her writing or Diego with soccer. Even when you have the passion and the talent, it can still be scary as fuck to go for it, but you’re out here putting one foot in front of the other towards your goal. It’s commendable. Most people can’t be bothered.”
“I take it you have a passion and talent for something other than…” Bryan trailed off, realizing he had no idea what Wes did for a living.
“Oh, I absolutely have a talent for insurance billing.”
“And passion?”
“Like no other,” she answered sarcastically. “ It’s so important, you know? Keeping the wheels of Big Insurance chugging along.” After a moment, though, she sighed heavily. “ My dream was to be an interior designer. Especially set design.”
Bryan sobered. “ Was ?”
She shook her head. “ I gave up on it. Gave up on myself.” She pointed to her eyes. “ I went through some shit, and at the time I didn’t see the value in doing something I loved for a little while if I might not be able to do it forever.”
“It’s not too late, is it?” Bryan asked. After all, she was young still, and he’d read enough about her condition to know she should retain some amount of vision even if it was mostly peripheral.
Wes turned to him like she was prepared to argue, but then she smiled. “ No . You’re living proof it’s not too late.”
“It’s true. I’m ancient. If I can do it…”
She laughed and shook her head. “ I only meant this trip has made me reassess some things.”
Bryan raised his glass to that, and she raised the bottle in salute.
“How do you say cheers here?”
“Slàinte.”
“Slàinte,” she replied, and they each took another drink. “ I love how much daylight there is,” Wes murmured, looking out to sea.
“Aye?”
“I have a tendency to always feel like I’m running out of time, so I rush and rush constantly.”
“That’s fair.”
“But here… it’s almost like there’s an abundance of time. I feel like I can finally slow down and take a breath.”
“Don’t visit in winter, then,” he said.
“Are the winters hard?” she asked.
Bryan shrugged. “ Can be. Every season has its own trials as well as magic.”
“Well, the changes to your house will go a long way to making winter more tolerable.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“From an insurance perspective, the increased warmth and sunlight inside the house will elevate serotonin…”
He burst out laughing, surprising himself, and Wes smiled.
“It may be hard for untrained eyes to see in its present state, but your vision is clear. I agree with every word Gray said tonight, by the way. You’ve an eye for aesthetic and you’re bringing it to life.”
Maybe it was a sign of too much whisky or simply the reminder of Grace , but his throat felt thick as he nodded his thanks and raised his glass to her once again.
“Can I ask you something?” She nodded, so he took a breath and pressed on. “ Have you and Rios heard… I dunno… rumors about me?” he asked.
Wes grew very serious. “ Oh . Yeah , I mean I thought you knew. Everyone’s saying you’re in league with the Big Bad Wolf to blow down their houses and force them to live off the grid.”
Bryan huffed. “ Aside from that.”
“I mean that’s pretty much the hottest goss on the island. I guess I did hear this one rumor that you’re pretty great at karaoke, but since I don’t pay any attention to rumors”—she leaned forward, setting the bottle of whisky on the ground at his feet—“ I think I’m going to have to see that again for myself.”
“What, right now?”
“The pub’s still open. I just walked by.”
“I’m quite hammered.”
“Me too, fella. Best kind of karaoke.” She jumped to her feet. “ Know any John Prine ?”
“Of course I know John Prine ,” Bryan growled, rolling his eyes at her. “ I wasn’t raised on a desert island.”
Wes giggled and took his hands, pulling him up. “ Come on, Stoic Scot . Let’s get you out of those feelings.”
And because just about anything sounded better than stewing in his thoughts, Bryan let Wesley drag him off to the Three Puffins and put their names down for karaoke.
Half an hour later, after they’d sung both “ Falling in Love Again ” and “ In Spite of Ourselves ” to the amusement of the stragglers still hanging around until close, Bryan’s morale had actually improved. Maybe it was the spirits, maybe the silliness or just the singing, but he felt a little better.
Wes tilted her head at him and asked, “ So what rumors were you really fretting about?”
“Something along the lines of me being a whore.”
She laughed, choking on the beer she’d been nursing. “ No , that’s new. Are you?”
“Not really.”
“Did something happen with Grace ?”
“Not really,” he said again.
Wes nodded slowly like she understood, and Bryan felt a bit shit for kissing and telling.
“You know in White Christmas , when Vera - Ellen tells Danny Kaye that Rosemary Clooney is ‘a real slow mover’? And Danny Kaye says, ‘ She’s in there with the champ’?”
“No…”
Welsey’s jaw dropped like she was shocked he’d never seen the old movie. “ Some people’s kids! Are you sure you didn’t grow up on a desert island?”
“Raised by puffins,” he laughed.
“Must have been! Listen , Bryan ,” she said, taking his face in her hands. “ Are you listening to me?”
He took a deep breath. “ I’m listening.”
“Good.” She let go of his face and drew her own breath. “ Grace is one of my best friends in the entire world. Maybe the best, but despite my bad influence, she’s kind of a little bit of a prude. It’s not her fault, and we love her for it, but it is a fact. She has trouble talking—even writing—about this stuff. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Bryan nodded, because he supposed he did. Real depth with Grace would take time, time he didn’t have, which is why you don’t get attached to tourists.
“No one thinks you’re a whore. Not even Gray .”
He nodded again. True or not, he appreciated hearing it.
“She might think I’m one. I don’t know. I’m afraid to ask, honestly.”
He laughed at that.
“You have a good smile, Stoic Scot . You should let it out more.”