Fate?”
He had one hand on the wheel. The other, holding the truck key, froze halfway to the ignition. It was just a split second—a flicker of a fly’s wings—but there it was.
That
. That shuddering, overpowering, nameless
thing
that had overcome him one night a thousand summers ago. That
thing
about her that had flipped his brain from, “Hey, I can’t wait to tell my best friend Jen about that,” to “Wow, Jen is amazing and gorgeous and you want to be a lot more than just her friend.”
With a hard, sharp shake of his head, he cranked the key and the truck rumbled to life. He said, as he backed out of the driveway so he wouldn’t have to look at her, “I don’t know what this is.”
Jen settled deeper into the seat. “I thought I heard someone pull in here last night.”
“Yeah, I was out of town until late.”
And then I saw you, half-naked. God help me, I can’t get it out of my mind. Change the subject.
“So how much do you remember about the games?”
“Oh, gosh,” she said to the window as she watched the rounded hills and thick trees of Gleann pass by. “Bits and pieces. Nothing about the organization or anything, nothing that I need to know now, of course. But I remember the pipes and drums, that sound echoing everywhere. I remember the pretend sword fights and sneaking beers with you after sophomore year. I remember people in lawn chairs watching little girls in tartan dancing on a stage. But most of all I remember sitting at your dad’s feet watching the heavy athletics. He explained all the events to me. I wish I remembered all the details.”
Leith nodded and found it difficult for the tightness in his chest.
“I’m scared to ask, but . . . your dad?”
He cleared his throat. “Died. Three years ago. The old guy held on five years more than they gave him.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He was so glad he was driving so he wouldn’t have to see her face. Wouldn’t have to witness what would surely be the kind of pity that made him want to gouge out his own eyes.
“I’ve gone through all the stages,” he told the road with a practiced and perfected shrug. “Anger, denial, all that jazz.”
The truth was, if Gleann reminded Leith of Jen, Gleann
was
Da. The fact that Da wasn’t here anymore gave Leith perhaps the biggest reason to get the hell out, but it also packed him with some pretty terrifying guilt for up and leaving a place that had embraced him so completely. A place that Da had chosen to love as much as his homeland.
“Okay,” Jen said. “That’s good. He was such an amazing man. I remember that everyone loved him.”
He blew out a breath and turned into the fairgrounds, which were nothing more than a large, undulating field butting up against Loughlin’s cattle pasture. A row of barns, also owned by Loughlin—because what in Gleann didn’t the old farmer own?—lined the back side of the grounds, and it was there that Leith aimed his truck, gritting his teeth at every hole in the field his big white baby found.
“How have the games changed since I’ve been here?” Jen asked in such a sunny manner he knew she was trying to turn the tide of the conversation away from his father. For some reason it made him feel worse, so he flashed her a smile and draped one forearm over the top of the wheel.
“Couldn’t really tell you,” he said over the rattle of the truck. “Haven’t been in a couple of years. I mean, I heard stuff, but I don’t compete anymore.”
“Aha,” she said in a way that told him she already knew that. “Why not?”
“No time, once my business took off. Summer is the busy season.” He parked by the largest barn, which the city rented from Loughlin to store everything for the games.
“You look like you work out, like you could still throw.”
He turned to her sharply and her gaze skittered away from his arms.
“Maybe,” he said with an amused quirk to his mouth, not indicating which statement he was addressing.
She blushed,
He had one hand on the wheel. The other, holding the truck key, froze halfway to the ignition. It was just a split second—a flicker of a fly’s wings—but there it was.
That
. That shuddering, overpowering, nameless
thing
that had overcome him one night a thousand summers ago. That
thing
about her that had flipped his brain from, “Hey, I can’t wait to tell my best friend Jen about that,” to “Wow, Jen is amazing and gorgeous and you want to be a lot more than just her friend.”
With a hard, sharp shake of his head, he cranked the key and the truck rumbled to life. He said, as he backed out of the driveway so he wouldn’t have to look at her, “I don’t know what this is.”
Jen settled deeper into the seat. “I thought I heard someone pull in here last night.”
“Yeah, I was out of town until late.”
And then I saw you, half-naked. God help me, I can’t get it out of my mind. Change the subject.
“So how much do you remember about the games?”
“Oh, gosh,” she said to the window as she watched the rounded hills and thick trees of Gleann pass by. “Bits and pieces. Nothing about the organization or anything, nothing that I need to know now, of course. But I remember the pipes and drums, that sound echoing everywhere. I remember the pretend sword fights and sneaking beers with you after sophomore year. I remember people in lawn chairs watching little girls in tartan dancing on a stage. But most of all I remember sitting at your dad’s feet watching the heavy athletics. He explained all the events to me. I wish I remembered all the details.”
Leith nodded and found it difficult for the tightness in his chest.
“I’m scared to ask, but . . . your dad?”
He cleared his throat. “Died. Three years ago. The old guy held on five years more than they gave him.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He was so glad he was driving so he wouldn’t have to see her face. Wouldn’t have to witness what would surely be the kind of pity that made him want to gouge out his own eyes.
“I’ve gone through all the stages,” he told the road with a practiced and perfected shrug. “Anger, denial, all that jazz.”
The truth was, if Gleann reminded Leith of Jen, Gleann
was
Da. The fact that Da wasn’t here anymore gave Leith perhaps the biggest reason to get the hell out, but it also packed him with some pretty terrifying guilt for up and leaving a place that had embraced him so completely. A place that Da had chosen to love as much as his homeland.
“Okay,” Jen said. “That’s good. He was such an amazing man. I remember that everyone loved him.”
He blew out a breath and turned into the fairgrounds, which were nothing more than a large, undulating field butting up against Loughlin’s cattle pasture. A row of barns, also owned by Loughlin—because what in Gleann didn’t the old farmer own?—lined the back side of the grounds, and it was there that Leith aimed his truck, gritting his teeth at every hole in the field his big white baby found.
“How have the games changed since I’ve been here?” Jen asked in such a sunny manner he knew she was trying to turn the tide of the conversation away from his father. For some reason it made him feel worse, so he flashed her a smile and draped one forearm over the top of the wheel.
“Couldn’t really tell you,” he said over the rattle of the truck. “Haven’t been in a couple of years. I mean, I heard stuff, but I don’t compete anymore.”
“Aha,” she said in a way that told him she already knew that. “Why not?”
“No time, once my business took off. Summer is the busy season.” He parked by the largest barn, which the city rented from Loughlin to store everything for the games.
“You look like you work out, like you could still throw.”
He turned to her sharply and her gaze skittered away from his arms.
“Maybe,” he said with an amused quirk to his mouth, not indicating which statement he was addressing.
She blushed,
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