In Time (Play On Book 2)

by Cd Brennan

“Uh-uh, you have a guest, and you don’t keep your guest waiting.”

  “I’m not going out in this!”

  “Yes, you are. Now, go. No more delay. Maybe it’s Krissy or someone to see you.”

  Grace grunted. Unbelievable.

  She opened the door with a yank and walked down the hall toward the living room. The dogs were still going crazy, and as she rounded the corner, she ran into her brother Ted wrestling them out of the room as they barked and lunged in the direction of the front door.

  “Can’t you keep your piggin’ dogs outside, T?”

  Ted hauled them by the collars to the sliding door in the kitchen. “Why? They’re as much a part of the family as you are.”

  Oh yeah, big bro? Kiss my arse, as Rory would say.

  Grace didn’t wait for Ted, but turned left into the living room and came to an abrupt halt.

  She couldn’t move. Her body heated. There was a strange buzzing coming from somewhere. Oh, that would be her ears. And for some reason, she felt like she needed to sneeze. Or pee. But there he was. Rory. Standing at their front door and looking like something that stepped out of a romance novel.

  She swallowed hard. She couldn’t breathe.

  Scott broke the silence. “What the fuck is this? High school prom?”

  When she saw Rory, in all his Scottish glory, she’d forgotten she was still wearing the peach puff dress and some mangy socks with a hole in the toe. Fabulous. And there was Rory in a kilt with a white shirt, black tuxedo jacket and bowtie. His hair was neat, but his face flushed. A white kerchief was balled into his hand.

  “What’s that thing hanging in front of your dick, man?” Scott asked, pointing at Rory’s crotch with a beer can in his hand.

  Her brother was so country he thought a seven-course meal was a possum and a six-pack. Total. Horrification.

  Rory looked to her brother just briefly. “A sporran. It’s called a sporran.”

  Rory also wore black shoes and white socks to his knees. One had a small knife sticking from the top. Wow, that was sexy. Nothing like incorporating weapons into fancy dress. He looked…magnificent.

  And Grace looked like… Gah, there was nothing to compare her disgrace to. Absolutely nothing. It was bad enough on its own, let alone alongside sexy central. What was he doing here?

  “Hi, Grace,” Rory said.

  “Howdy. I mean hi.”

  “You gonna introduce your big brother or what, Grace?”

  At Scott’s words, Grace snapped out of her reverie. Okay, first things first. “Scott, this is Rory. Rory, my oldest brother, Scott, and the biggest pain in my ass. Scott, shove off, will you?”

  “Whoa, Gracie, I’m watchin’ the game.”

  It didn’t pass her notice that he hadn’t stood to shake Rory’s hand, not even an acknowledgement, nothing that a gentleman would do. How come Grace’s momma was so concerned with raising ladies, yet she had two goat herders for sons? Total and complete hypocritical unfairness.

  “Get out now, or I’ll make you get out.”

  He took another long sip of his beer. “Oh ho, I’d like to see that.” Just then the Cowboys scored, and Scott was out of his seat, shouting at the TV.

  Grace marched over to him, grabbed him by his big effin’ ear and dragged him into the kitchen.

  “Fuck, Grace! Ma!”

  Grace shoved him into Ted, who was just coming in from tying up the dogs. “Will you do me a huge favor, T?”

  She still had Scott by the ear, but he was pulling hard on her arm.

  “Sure, but it’ll cost you.”

  “If you get this skunk out of the house for half an hour, you can have my Winchester Thirty-eight.”

  “Your gun?”

  “And if you keep him out for an hour, you can have my fishin’ pole, too, the good one.”

  Grace’s mother walked into the kitchen just then. “What in the Hades is going on in here? And did anyone know there’s some guy in a kilt in our living room?”

  “That’s Rory, momma. And I really need to talk to him.” She gave her momma the eye, trying to plead her case in a look.

  Her momma clapped her hands. “All right boys, pile into the car. I’ll take you to BW3 for ribs and the rest of the game.” She started pushing on the boys, herding them toward the back door.

  Over his shoulder, Ted yelled, “I’m still getting’ the gun and pole, right?”

  Grace didn’t bother answering. Her momma could take it from here.

  She turned and took a deep breath. What she really wanted to do was go change out of this godforsaken dress, but she couldn’t leave him just standing there on his own in some strange house. She used the small magnetic mirror on the fridge to check herself. Oh, fuck. She shouldn’t have. She would have had more confidence if she hadn’t. Her hair was pulled back in a stub of a pony tail since it wasn’t that long, loose hairs around her face. Her chest was splotchy and red from the adrenaline rush, and she still was pale as a white sheet from the Michigan winter.

  Then she groaned when she remembered. Her legs were super hairy. There’d been no reason to shave the last couple of weeks. She’d spent most of it in bed, her momma nursing her back to health with plenty of food and rest, and Grace nursing her heart with an eighties movie marathon. Gillian sure had rubbed off on her. She’d watched everything from Pretty in Pink to The Goonies, but her favorite had been Say Anything. She would never, ever tell her sister that, or she wouldn’t hear the end of it. The only reason she’d lugged herself from bed was for her stupid dress fitting.

  She jerked open the fridge door. There must be something in here to help with her breath that Grace was certain smelled worse than a carcass baking in the hot Texas sun. She shifted jars around in the back in search of… Ah-ha! An old jar of mint julep. That would do.

  She quickly opened and popped a finger-full into her mouth. She gagged and barely kept herself from puking. It obviously had gone off months ago.

  She turned on the tap to the kitchen sink and then drank and spat from the faucet. She wiped her mouth on the dish towel, but that made her gag again. It smelled like bacon. Stupid brothers used it for an oven glove all the time.

  She stopped herself, grasped the counter with both hands, and took two deep breaths. Now. That was better.

  When Grace walked into the living room, Rory was still standing in the same place as when she’d left. His hands were folded in front of the sporran, his eyes staring vacantly out into space as if he were a soldier on watch duty. He seemed even more out of place in their living room with everyone else gone. Her cheeks burned. It was cluttered like it normally was—coasters, empty beer cans, magazines and a half dozen remote controls on the coffee table, throw pillows and a blanket askew on the couch. Someone had dragged one of the dog beds into the middle of the room, most likely one of the dogs, and there was dog hair everywhere.

  Her dick brother had left the TV on to the game. It was when she clicked the remote to turn it off that he noticed her. His arms relaxed to his side, and he walked over to her in three long strides. Grace had to keep herself from fidgeting. So she had an ugly-ass dress on, hairy legs, bad hair, and holey socks?

  Rory reached out to her, but if she touched him, then it would be all over. When she didn’t reciprocate, he instead ran his hand through his hair to ruin the carefully sculpted hairdo. As if realizing, he then patted his hair down into place again. How many times had she told him it was better mussed?

  “Grace…I…”

  “Why are you here, Rory?”

  He swallowed visibly but didn’t look away. “I’m here to get you.”

  “You came all the way here from Michigan.”

  “Aye, I flew in just now.”

  “To come get me.”

  “Aye.”

  “In a kilt.”

  At that he looked down at himself as if he’d forgotten. “Aye.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…”

  Grace held her breath.

  “These ar
e the best clothes I own.”

  What? “I meant why did you come, not why are you wearing a kilt.” Although that question had occurred to her. But it was so sexy she didn’t care the reason.

  “I wanted to show you how important you are to me. By flying all the way here, by dressing appropriately for you. I’ve come to take you home.”

  Sniff. She wouldn’t cry. Maybe she couldn’t. She’d done enough of that in the last couple weeks. She was bone dry out of tears. “Well, that was awful kind of—”

  “Everyone misses you.”

  Everyone?

  “The girls team isn’t the same without you. The Blues miss you. Even Del.”

  “So you are some sort of messenger boy in a kilt?”

  Rory’s brows pinched at that. “No, that’s not it.”

  She wasn’t going to help him. He needed to do this on his own.

  “I miss you. So much I feel like I want to vomit all the time.”

  Screeching halt. What?

  Rory grabbed his hair with both hands so that it now stuck up all mussed. That was better. “Fuck! That didn’t come out right.”

  “Is this your version of when I think of you I touch myself? But it’s when I think of Grace, I want to vomit?” She could hear the melody in her head.

  “I miss you so much it hurts. Physically. I’ve never wanted anything so badly. Not even rugby. I want you. I want you to come back.”

  Wowsa, that was the most words Rory had ever strung together. It had to hurt him.

  “I want you, too—”

  He took her hand then. “Then why did you leave?”

  How could he not understand? She gritted her teeth. No one understood what it was like to live like with a disability unless they had one. “I almost died! I’ve never been so scared. My momma had to fly all the way from Texas to get me. The hospital called her. And my folks had to pay for my hospital costs. What if it happens again? She can’t do that every time I get sick. Do you have that worry every day? Huh?”

  He didn’t say a word. And the worst part was she had given him grief about relying on his parents. She was a failure and a hypocrite. “Well, I do. It sucks. It’s not a sickness that can be cured. I have to live with it for the rest of my life.”

  Still, no response. Her Rory was a quiet man, shy as a crocus, but now it was just making her angrier than a hornet. Him being here was just making everything harder. Before she would’ve been up for the challenge, now Grace had deflated to the point that she couldn’t get out of bed.

  “I was lying to myself in Michigan. Like I didn’t have diabetes at all, and I could just live like everyone else. But that’s a pile of cow dung. I can’t. I’ll never be able to.”

  “You can, Grace. Maybe not the exact way you wanted to. Maybe a little different, but doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be just as good.”

  “I can’t, Ror. I tried, I did, but I can’t do it.”

  “Yes, you can. If anyone can, it’s you.”

  She swallowed hard. His hands felt warm and comforting, like a fluffy pillow when she was bone tired. She badly wanted to step into him so he would wrap his arms around her.

  “C’mon, please.”

  “Obviously it didn’t work. I couldn’t keep a job—”

  Rory’s eyebrows furrowed. “You lost your job? Why?”

  Grace shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “You’ll find another one.”

  “Maybe, but that’s not the point entirely. I couldn’t keep myself healthy. I need help from my folks still to look after me. Even at twenty-three, which is a shame I have to live with, but at least I’ll live.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” He did wrap her in his arms then.

  She didn’t want to, but she laid her head on his chest and held him. She’d give herself this little bit before saying goodbye. “Yeah, me, too.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” He hugged her tighter. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I didn’t mean I was sorry. I meant I was sorry you weren’t there.”

  “It’ll never happen again. Bluegill is fixed now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was late because I wanted to get your truck fixed for you. I made an appointment to get a new battery and alternator put in. They were late finishing. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

  Oh.

  But still. “Rory, my momma is right. Too much is at stake to have me traipsing all over the world.”

  “Michigan isn’t the world.”

  “Oh, I know that, but that was only a taste of what I want to do. And if I take it any farther, what would be next? Canada? Europe? Then Africa or South America? If I go back, then I’m just tempting myself with something I can’t really have.”

  “Aren’t you the one that told me not to let anything hold you back?”

  “Your situation is different.”

  “Aye. Everyone’s is. But you can’t use that as an excuse.”

  The tears built again so she squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face into his chest to keep them from coming full force. Without looking, she knew what was there. From the six-point buck head hanging on the wall to the dirty, gray singlet and hoodie tossed onto the chair arm. From the trodden shaggy eighties carpet that had never been updated, which ironically Gillian would love, to the family photos in mismatched frames on both sides of the picture window.

  The room represented everything she was, everything she had tried to escape from, but it wasn’t meant to be. There was no point in trying to be someone she wasn’t and couldn’t be.

  “The Blues will always be there for you.”

  Yeah, she could believe that. They were a family, really.

  “I’ll always be there for you.”

  That was harder to believe. Rory wouldn’t always be around. He’d go back to Scotland, and who would look after her then? She had tried so hard to make Michigan happen. Tears pricked her eyes thinking about it. No one couldn’t say she hadn’t tried. That was a small victory in itself. Not the complete win, but it was something she could hold onto when she went back to Taco Bueno or wherever. She’d probably never get a real job now after the debacle at the retirement home. That burned her still, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  “I can’t risk getting sick again like that.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  Hold up. What? “I can?”

  “Aye.”

  “So it’s totally okay if I die.”

  “You’re not going to die.”

  Grace pounded on his chest once with her fist. “I almost did!”

  “I wouldnae let you!”

  “But what about when you go back to Scotland? And that’s not the point anyway. I need to be able to do it on my own, and I couldn’t.” She elbowed out of his arms. “My momma is right. I belong here.”

  Rory bent to his bag on the floor and unzipped the front pocket. He removed an eyeglass case, and in typical Rory fashion, secured the bag once again. With such pedantic mannerisms, he would have been perfect for her. Opposite to her, he was overly organized, clean, and meticulous to the point of analism. If that was a word. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.” How did she not know that?

  “Aye, but I rarely use them. I always wear contacts.”

  “But I’ve never seen any of your contact stuff in the bathroom.”

  “Second drawer down on the right.”

  Ah, okay.

  He opened the case and pulled out a single stem with a large, lavender-colored bud at the top that was cupped by single, spikey leaves.

  “This is a thistle, and Scotland’s flower. One of the Blues’ players owns a flower shop. I picked it up before for my flight. I needed to do something.” He held out his hand with the flower to her.

  “That stinks, Rory. You’re not playing fair.”

  “The first time in my life, but it’s worth it.”

  When he stepped closer to her, Grace moved back to stay out of his reach. The lo
nger he was here, the harder it was to keep saying no. There was nothing stronger than a physical manifestation right in front of her. So handsome in his kilt. Any woman’s dream.

  He must have sensed her hesitation. “Grace, come back and give it a go again. Del, Gillian, even Irish will be there for you. You know, like you said that first day we met you. What was the saying…?”

  “Kindred spirits?”

  “Aye.”

  Grace crossed her arms over her chest. “I now realize that was… What was the saying? Oh yeah, a bunch of bollocks.”

  “But especially me. I’ll be there if you need anything at all. I’ll try new things with you, but I’ll keep us safe.” He smiled, trying to joke with her.

  She didn’t want to be dependent on anyone; that was the whole point of leaving her family behind. “Why would you do all of that for me?”

  “Because I…” This time Rory took a step back from her. “I don’t know how to say it.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her and tilted her chin. Of all the times to regress back into her mother’s teachings. “I appreciate you dressing up and traveling all the way here.” She hesitated when it dawned on her. “I’m sure it wasn’t cheap. And you obviously had to rent a car and all.”

  Rory shook his head. No? Well then how in Hades had he gotten here? Grace would ask but then that would commit her deeper to his cause. She needed distance. And to stick to her guns. Literally. Stay here and step right back into what she’d been before. “Even though I trust the Lady Blues will be there for me—Junette, Brittany, Claire, Jordyn, Hillary, Courtney, even Jenn to a degree…”

  “Aye, for sure. And a few more signed up recently.”

  She shook her head. She needed to finish this. “That’s not enough for me, Rory. I’m totally broke, I don’t have a job, I don’t have any healthcare for my meds. It’s gonna be shit, but I’m going to have to borrow from my folks just to pay for my insulin.”

  “I’m working now. I’ll help you.”

  “You are? You got a job?” She had unintentionally taken a step closer to him.

  “I’ve been offered a full-time job to Coach the Lady Blues. Brittany and Jordyn put a grant application together for the women’s shelter in TC. It was accepted.”

  She held her gasp in. It had worked! She couldn’t help herself. “Tell me about it.”