Chapter 35
35
Keyanna
He’s still sleeping when I come to; I stretch my arms up over my head before rolling onto my side, tucking my hands under my cheek as I watch him. His dark golden hair falls loosely over his brow, his soft mouth parted slightly as he snores quietly. I smile to myself as I snuggle closer; it’s still a novelty to be able to wake up with him like this, even after two weeks of doing so. His bed is still too small, and he hogs most of it in the night, but I don’t care about any of that because he’s warm and solid and here —and I’m finally starting to settle into the belief that he won’t suddenly be gone when I wake up one morning.
“You’re being a creeper again, aren’t you.”
My grin widens, and I shift up on my elbow, leaning to press my mouth to his. “I was just thinking about the easiest way to strangle you with the sheets you keep stealing.”
“Devil woman,” he chuckles. He cracks open one eye, his lip curling in a smirk as he appraises me sleepily. “You were doing no such thing.”
“No, I wasn’t,” I admit. “Even if you do hog the sheets.”
He rolls, his palm covering my bare hip as he hums softly. “That’s more intentional than you might think.”
I nuzzle into him, allowing my eyes to drift shut as I inhale his warm, sleepy scent. It calms me just a little, tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding ebbing slightly.
“Trouble sleeping again?” he asks.
I nod into his chest. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and you won’t be here.”
“Och, love. Don’t be daft. You’ll not get rid of me so easily.”
I take another lungful of his soft scent, letting it out on a slow exhale. “They’ll be moving Brodie today.”
“Aye,” he says. “I know. Over to Glasgow.”
“Is it bad that I feel…sorry for him?”
“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he hums thoughtfully. “But it’s not your fault, what happened to him. If anything, it’s more mine.”
“You’re not the one who set him on fire,” I mumble.
“Aye, true,” he says. “But he wasn’t hurt seriously, and I reckon I have a lot to do with him being carted away to a psych ward for shouting about monsters to everyone who would listen.” His body shakes a bit with his laugh. “Although…it was a wee bit funny when he started demanding I strip to prove something to the policeman.”
I smack his chest. “He was obviously ill. Like he just…cracked or something.”
“And now he’ll get the help he needs,” Lachlan reasons. “But as far as I’m concerned…he lost my sympathy when he turned that knife on you.”
I feel a white-hot flash of anger pulse inside me, and I huff out a breath. “And the bastard stabbed you.”
“Was just a scratch.”
I roll my eyes. “You forget I saw it.”
“Aye, aye, I know.”
I wrap my arms around his stomach, pulling him closer. “Did you talk to your dad yesterday?”
“I did,” he sighs. “Things are still…strained with him and Mum. But she’s talking to him now, at least.”
“I mean, it has to be a shock for her.”
“I s’pose so.”
I kiss his shoulder. “Do you think you can fix things between you and your mom? Eventually?”
“I imagine so,” he says. “Maybe after things have settled.” I feel his finger poke into my side, and I shriek and squirm as he maneuvers onto his side, propping his fist up on his elbow. “And what about you, eh, princess? Have you decided what you’ll be doing next?”
My brow wrinkles. “What do you mean?”
“Well, not that I don’t enjoy your company, but we can’t exactly live in this wee shack forever.”
“Are you already kicking me out?”
“More asking what I might have to do to get you to settle somewhere more permanent…here. In Scotland.”
My pulse quickens as my lips quirk. “Settle, huh?”
“The way I see it,” he says seriously, “you’ve got everything you need right here.”
“Oh, do I?”
He nods. “Oh, aye.” He holds up one finger. “You’ve got your granny and grandpa, for starters.”
“True.”
“There’s the pub,” he goes on, holding up another finger.
My mouth twitches as I try to hold back a smile. “Rory and Blair would probably miss me, yes.”
“And Bethie,” he adds. “She’s grown rather fond of you.”
I can’t help it now, my lips tilting into a grin. “Just Bethie?”
“Hm.” He taps a finger against his lips, his brows knitting in thought. “There might be someone else.”
“Really.”
His lips twitch. “S’pose I might like you. Just a little.”
“Ass,” I laugh.
He smiles at me. “You didn’t think that would change because of a few kisses, did you?”
“Apparently not,” I hmph.
I feel his lips at my hair, his hand curling around my shoulder, stroking it gently.
“Someone might want you to stay very much,” he tells me softly. “Someone might even think about giving you a proper home here, if you wanted.”
My eyes prick with tears, not sad or frustrated like they have been so often of late, but happy for once.
“I’m already home,” I tell him. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
His voice is soft when he answers, “Someone is very glad to hear it.”
I feel…full, at this moment, like everything is settling into place, my life finally calming after I’ve felt so adrift in the months since my dad passed. Maybe it’s reckless, entertaining the idea of a future with a man I’ve known for only a few months, but even from our first rocky meeting, I can’t deny the pull I’ve felt for this stubborn man who still drives me a little crazy sometimes. Like maybe we were inevitable. And who is to say we weren’t? So much about our story feels foretold, and even if the ending to that story is unwritten—I find myself unafraid of the unknown for once in my life. Like for once, it just feels like everything will work out as it’s supposed to.
“You know you should do it today,” Lachlan murmurs, popping my cozy bubble of calm. “You’ve put it off for weeks now.”
I groan against his chest. “I know. I’m just afraid of how she’ll react. She’s already had such a hard time with Brodie’s ‘breakdown.’ If I make that leap, I’ll have to tell her everything. ”
“She’s a tough auld bird,” Lachlan says. “She can handle it.”
That much is true, at least. Even though Brodie’s situation was a shock for Finlay and Rhona, my granny has been stoic about the whole thing. I can tell that it wounds her to think Brodie might have been suffering without her knowing, and I can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt at the idea of being the one to tell her just how much he’d lost his way in the end. But Lachlan is right. If anyone can handle it, she can, and she deserves the truth.
“I’ll do it today,” I promise. “After breakfast. No more dragging my feet.”
“That’s a good lass,” he says, kissing my hair. When I look up at him, he’s sporting a sly grin. “And speaking of breakfast…”
I roll my eyes. “You know that’s a gross misuse of things.”
“But it’s so much fun,” he counters.
I heave out a sigh, sitting up against the headboard so I can concentrate. Lachlan props up on his side eagerly, looking almost like a child as he watches me scrunch up my face, focusing. The bulb in the ceiling fixture flickers half-heartedly a few times before coming on fully, and then there is the sharp beeping of the coffeepot—waking up at my command as the liquid starts to drip into the filter.
“Don’t know how I’ll ever go back to making my own coffee with you around,” Lachlan laughs. He hugs his arms around my waist, letting his cheek rest against my stomach. “You’re getting very good at controlling it.”
“It’s almost like just knowing it’s there makes it easier to tap into. Like it’s just been waiting for me to find it. Like, now that I know what to look for…I can’t not see it. Is that weird?”
“I’ll remind you again that up until a few weeks ago, I turned into a fucking dinosaur at night. You could sprout wings and fly through the window at this point, and I might not question it.” He makes a face. “Although maybe warn me first if you feel it coming on.”
I shake my head. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“Mm.” He rubs his cheek against my bare stomach, and the coarse hair of his beard tickles my skin, sending a faint throb of arousal through me. “I’ll go with you. If you want.”
“I’d like that,” I tell him. I card my fingers through his hair, squirming a bit as another wave of want courses through me, as it so often does when he touches me for any extended period of time. “But maybe after.”
He turns up his face, his brow furrowed. “After?”
“Mhm.” I press my palms to his cheeks, urging him up until he’s leaning on his hands, my lips finding his to coax a kiss from him. Within seconds it escalates to something needier, which is another habit we seem to be forming, but I find I don’t mind in the slightest. “After.”
His lips curl against mine. “I’m at your service, princess.”
When he starts to kiss me more thoroughly, his body covering mine…I can’t even find it in me to be annoyed by the silly nickname anymore.
I’m beyond nervous when I enter the main house a while later after breakfast with the journal tucked under my arm, but Lachlan following close behind me quells the anxiety just a bit, reminding me that regardless of what happens here, everything will be okay. He keeps his hand against my lower back in a supportive gesture as we move through the entryway, following the sounds of Rhona puttering around in the kitchen. She’s furiously scrubbing at a massive stockpot when we round the wide entry to the kitchen, pausing only to look up at us after letting out a string of curses.
“Och, you startled me,” she grunts. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry,” I tell her. “Didn’t mean to.”
She waves me off, reaching for the dish towel she hangs on the oven handle and drying her hands. “None of that. Are you hungry then? I could heat up something.”
“No, no,” I assure her. “We already had breakfast.”
Rhona’s mouth forms a thin line, cocking a brow at Lachlan. “If I knew you’d be stealing my only granddaughter only a couple of months after I got her, I might have chased you off the property much sooner.”
“I’m open to discussion regarding visitation rights,” he deadpans.
Rhona rolls her eyes. “Don’t be an arse, boy. It doesn’t suit you.”
“I have a lot of anecdotal evidence that suggests otherwise,” I laugh, slipping into one of the kitchen chairs.
Lachlan scoffs as he takes the one next to me. “Nothing but rotten slander.”
“Mhm.” I keep the journal stowed in my lap as Rhona pours herself a cup of tea, arching an eyebrow at me. “You want a cuppa?”
“No thanks.” I shake my head. “I had coffee already.”
“Aye, aye.”
There’s a quiet that settles as Lachlan and I let her finish her cup, waiting until she’s seated on the other side of the table, blowing at her tea, before either of us speaks again.
“Where’s Finlay?” Lachlan asks.
Rhona grunts softly. “Stubborn arse is still looking for the calf Harriet dropped yesterday.”
“He should have told me,” Lachlan humphs. “I’d have gone with him.”
“I think he wants the quiet time,” she tells him. Her eyes gain a weary look. “He’s still a wee bit out of sorts with…everything that’s happened.”
A feeling of sympathy squeezes my chest, knowing that as difficult as Brodie being carted away must be for her, finding out the truth about…well, everything …might be all the more so. Still, I know that Lachlan is right. She can get through this.
“I’d really hoped to give you this together,” I start carefully, pulling the book from my lap and letting it rest on the table. “But maybe it’s better if you have some time with it first.” I think of the worn letter resting just inside the cover. “Considering.”
Rhona eyes the aged leather curiously, cocking her head. “And what’s this?”
“This is…” My mouth closes, and I stare down at the journal, my thoughts buzzing as I try to find the words that capture everything that this book is. What it means. “It’s something I think you should see.”
I let out a shuddered breath as nerves once again wash over me, and Lachlan, noticing my struggle, lifts his hand to place it over mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I turn my head to meet his gaze, seeing a faith in me waiting there, shining out clear as day, which gives me courage.
“You’re not afraid of anything, love,” he tells me.
And I’m not, I realize. Not really. Not anymore. Even with everything I’ve lost…I’ve somehow found so much more.
“I wanted to tell you that I’ve decided to stay,” I tell Rhona, meeting her gaze. “If that’s all right with you.”
Her mouth parts in surprise, but there’s no hiding the sudden shine of her eyes, the wrinkled corners gathering as she drags in an unsteady breath. “Is that what you want, hen? What about everything you left behind?”
I consider that—thinking of my dad’s place that is now sold off, his things that are stored away, the friends that fell to the wayside…and yes. There are memories there. But…
“When my dad died,” I tell her, my voice soft as I watch my fingers twisting, “I thought that was the end of everything as I knew it. I felt…so alone. Like I had absolutely nothing left, that I had no one. I left everything behind and came here, hoping to find something that I wasn’t sure I could ever have again.” I turn up my face to find her eyes again, a smile touching my lips. “But I did find it. With you, and with Grandpa, and with…” I bite my lip, glancing at Lachlan, who winks at me smugly. “I never thought I would have a family again. Not without my dad…but that’s what it feels like I have here with all of you. I don’t want to leave that behind. I want to stay and know you better, to put down roots here that I can pass to my own children. I want to make sure that they’ll never have to wonder where they came from like I did, because I—and hopefully you—will be there to tell them.”
Rhona’s eyes are full-on shimmering now, her lip trembling as one single tear escapes her eye, tracking down her cheek. She makes no move to wipe it away, instead reaching across the table to take my hands in hers.
“Sweet lass,” she says thickly. “I will forever regret the way I acted when you first came to us. I can’t ever take that back. But having you here…seeing my Duncan in you, but also seeing the wonderful person that you are all on your own…I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” She sniffles softly, nodding as another tear slips from her eye. “I only wish your father were here so I could tell him how sorry I was for failing him. I wish I could tell him that I’ll do better with you. That I’ll never make those mistakes ever again. I wish…” She swallows thickly. “I wish he hadn’t left this world with any darkness that we gave him.”
My face splits in a grin, my own eyes glossing over as I try to blink away the tears that seem to be just part of my life now. I can’t ever remember crying so much as I have since I came here. I nod back at her, giving her hands a squeeze before pulling them away to pat the cover of the journal.
“About that…”
I take a deep breath, looking at Lachlan again and finding strength in his encouraging nod, returning it before pulling the crinkled letter from the cover of the journal. I slide it gingerly across the table, letting it rest just in front of Rhona before slowly pulling my hand back.
She looks at it with a downturned mouth and a knitted brow. “What’s this?”
“It’s for you,” I tell her. “You should read it.”
She picks it up with care, pulling it closer and squinting a bit as her mouth moves ever so slightly with each word she reads. There’s no missing when it dawns on her, her eyes going wide and her hand coming to cover her mouth as the tears fall more freely. I watch her consume each word voraciously, reaching out to press her fingers to the page delicately, almost with reverence.
She looks up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t—I don’t understand. What does this mean?”
“Well…”
I turn to hold Lachlan’s gaze for a moment more, silently seeking confirmation once again that this is okay, that he’s okay with sharing absolutely everything.
“The story isn’t just mine, love,” he tells me gently. “It’s ours.”
I flash him a grin, my love for him seeming older than the short amount of time I’ve had the joy of feeling it. It feels like home to me. It feels like forever .
I turn back to my granny, meeting her eyes that are so like mine with renewed determination as I slide the journal her way. “Well…” I start again, “We have quite the story for you.”
And not for the first time, I feel that overwhelming sense of calm touch my heart, like the caress of a gentle hand, like the whisper of a voice from long ago, longer than I can imagine—telling me that everything will be just fine.
Because Lachlan is absolutely right. It’s not just a story.
It’s ours.