Page 38 of Scotch & Dreams

“Well, ye did, ye big oaf. Ye hurt us all.”

“I know. I couldn’t take it. I was so angry. I couldn’t see straight. And I had to escape it.” He looked out over the rolling sea, storm clouds slowly moving in. “Getting out of here seemed like the only way.”

“The only way to what?” she asked him point blank.

He picked up a handful of pebbles as they strode along the shorefront. “I thought I could escape the pain. I thought leaving would make the pain stop somehow.”

He skipped one of the stones across the water, and after three jumps, the waves gobbled it up.

“And did it stop? The pain?” Orlagh asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nah.” Drew exhaled. “If I thought I was at rock bottom when I left, I was wrong.” He threw another stone into the sea.

“Where did ye go? Nobody ken. Ye put us through hell.” The wind had picked up, and she tightened her cardigan around her, trying to protect from its sudden bite.

Drew pulled off his jean jacket and handed it to Orlagh. "Put it on.”

She did, not only glad for the extra layer but to see a glimmer of the Drew she once knew. One that cared for his family.

“Spain. I started in Spain.”

“Spain?” Orlagh whipped her head around to look at him.

“Aye. It was far from here, and that’s what I wanted. I wanted to escape this life.”

“And did ye? Escape this life?” She always dreamed of escaping, too. No, not escaping, adventuring.

Drew turned away from her and stared out over the water. Despite his scruffy facial hair and black eye, he was still a handsome one. When Orlagh was a teenager, she didn't understand why on earth the lassies chased her brothers, but she did now. Handsome buggers.

"Aye, I did. I hit rock bottom, Rolo. Tried all kinds of drugs to try and numb the pain. It was a dark place. Waking late one afternoon with my face laying in my own vomit, I realized I hated the shite life I was living. I missed Scotland. I missed making music. And I missed my family." He turned back to her.

She moved in to hug him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Losing Helena was too much to take. I had myself convinced that Lachlan could have prevented her death—that he was somehow responsible.”

"Och, Drew."

"I directed all my anger toward Lachlan. He was the scapegoat. All that blame, and I only ended up screwing up my own life.”

They began walking again, the beach virtually empty now with storm clouds brewing and the winds picking up. "I saw Lachlan yesterday,” Drew said calmly.

"What? Ye did?" Orlagh whipped around to look at him. Why wouldn't Lachlan have said anything to her?

"Aye, unfortunately, I didnae behave very well.”

Orlagh saw regret etched in his features and wondered what had happened between them.

“I doubt he'll want to see me again. Seeing him just triggered all those old feelings. It suddenly brought everything back, and it didnae help that when I saw him, I had just run into some old friends. No, not friends, acquaintances. People I should have steered clear of.” He shook his head.

She could practically feel the regret rolling off him.

“I suppose old habits die hard.”

"Aw, Drew, I'm sure Lachlan wants to see ye again.” Despite everything, she knew Lachlan loved Drew and vice versa.

"I doubt that. He clocked me one." Drew gestured to his black eye.

"Lachlan did that?" Orlagh was floored. She could see Alex doing that, but not Lachlan. Lachlan was too reasonable to use his fists. "What did ye do?" She tried to imagine what on earth could provoke Lachlan, of all people, to throw a punch, and by the looks of it, he didn't hold anything back.

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