Page 19 of Rough Return

And now he was gone.

Grier pulled the bike in front of her house and shut down the engine. She should let go, get off the bike, and go inside, but tonight, she didn’t want to be alone. As if he knew, he covered her clasped hands with his and waited. Quiet. Still. Until she was ready to ease away, to stand on her own.

Asking him to stay made her weak, or maybe he made her weak, but it didn’t matter. The thought of going into that house alone, the idea of missing her father without someone to comfort her made her want to drink. And the last thing anyone needed was drunk, sad Fiona on the loose.

“Will you stay?”

“Yeah.” He hung her helmet on his handlebar and walked beside her up the steps. She opened the door and flipped on the light then led him inside. Her legs, her arms, her head, no part of her had the strength to hold her weight. She collapsed on the sofa and before the second wave of sadness hit, Grier gathered her against him, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m so sorry, Fi.”

She nodded and sniffed back the tears. “He liked you.”

“He liked you, too.” She looked up at his sympathetic smile, and he squeezed her a little tighter.

“You know what I mean. He didn’t want to believe you would run away like that.” She rested her head over his heart, let the steady beat lull her. She concentrated on it until the ache behind her eyes quieted.

Grier nodded and laid his cheek on the top of her head. “I remember when I first met him. I was sixteen. Street kid. Stupid. Max came up, said some football jock was harassing his kid. He said if I handled it, he’d help me. Get me in the club.”

She sat back. One day Robby Fitch had been an ugly thorn poking her, teasing her for her braces and braids. The next day, Max had paid for a makeover, and Fitch came to school with a broken nose, two black eyes, and a couple of broken fingers. But he’d never teased her again, and he made sure no one else did either. “That was you?”

“Yeah.”

Max. Max. Max. “And Cooper? Ryan Fielding?” She groaned. “Cameron?” Now there was a boy who’d had potential.

“Max just wanted you to find someone who was good enough for you.”

Despite her better judgment, she snuggled closer. “And I guess he thought that was you.”

“I guess. You could have ended up married to that loser Cooper O’Shea. Drop-out. Spends his time looking at online porn after he leaves his job folding clothes at the Old Navy.”

Fiona managed to pull away enough to look at him. “How do you know?”

“Sage. Max gave him my job after I… left. But Sage is a computer savant. He knows stuff.”

Stuff? For a moment, she forgot her father had passed away, forgot the ache in her heart. But now, the pain rocked through her, stole her breath. She closed her eyes again and listened to his heart. Grier kissed her head again and tightened his hold. She nestled in, absorbing his warmth.

“I need a drink.” She pulled away, and he let go and stood.

“Stay here. I’ll get it.” At the doorway between the kitchen and living room, he turned to gaze at her. “Fiona…”

She couldn’t hear more sentiment right now. It would destroy her, break the very thin wall holding her together. “Vodka in the freezer. Tumblers in the cabinet.” He didn’t move until she said, “Please.”

With a nod, he retrieved the alcohol and a couple of glasses then came back to sit beside her. He didn’t speak, just poured her drink, and handed it to her, then moved to sit against the cushions and pull her into his arms again.

She shook her head and struggled out of his hold. “You won’t even drink with me on the worst night of my life?”

He reached for her again. “Another night I’ll toast Max with you. Tonight, I’m taking care of you.” He kissed the top of her head again. “My wife.”

Wife? Now he wanted to claim marriage? Then, as if she really could see inside his head, she smiled. “I’m not going to fight with you, Grier.”

“Who said I want to fight?”

She held her glass in one hand and his cheek in the other. “You don’t. But if it’s what I want or what I… need, you’ll fight back.” And it would make her feel better for a minute. The way the reminiscing had. She leaned in and brushed her lips over his, softly, lingering until her eyelids fluttered shut, and he yanked her across his lap.

This. For God’s sake, this.

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