Page 65 of Scotch on the Rocks

“Dad—” I started to cut in, refusing to see Juniper on the receiving end of his vitriol, while hating myself for feelingembarrassed. But I was. Shame burned me from the inside out.

Juniper waved me off, taking it all in her stride. Somehow that was worse. I slipped forward to intervene when my mother called my name.

Hand waving overhead, open coat flapping in the wind, she broke into a slow run. “There you are,” she said to Dad, panting as she drew nearer. I could see the lines of worry etched into the corners of her mouth. “Hi, Juniper. It’s lovely to see you.”

“Hey, Mrs Macabe.”Fuck.I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t bear to catch a glimpse of what she must be thinking.

“Iris, please. We’re still family.”

“Iris,” Juniper agreed. “Jim was kindly helping me to my car.”

“Mum, what happened?” As touching as this little reunion was, I needed answers.

She blew out a breath. “We were in the chemist picking up his prescription. I only turned my back for a minute, and he slipped away from me. He’s still as fast as ever.”

Was she seriously turning this into a joke? “You should have called me.”

“I was just about to.”

“You should have called the second you lost him.” I hated the chill in my tone, but she needed to stop burying her head in the sand. Pretending everything was fine only put Dad in jeopardy.

“I didn’t want to disturb you at work.”

I bit down hard on my retort. That I was already disturbed. That it would now fall to me to cancel my afternoon appointments and escort them home. To help bathe him and put him to bed because Mum couldn’t –shouldn’t –do it alone.

That chill spread, encompassing my entire body, becauseJuniper was stillhere. Still witnessing this mess. My voice turned hollow when I said without looking at her, “Thanks Juniper, we can take it from here.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind—”

“I’m sure.” I cut her off, moving in to take her place beside my dad. He leant into me, letting me take his weight. “Find Malcolm and tell him I had an emergency at work if you want to help.”Arse. Maybe I was the one who’d lost my empathy.

I didn’t look back as we strolled away.

“Callum—” Mum started.

I shook my head. “We’ll talk at your house.”

I’d expected Juniper to be pissed at me.

So pissed, I’d already ranked Brown’s array of baked goods on my mentalEarn Juniper’s Forgivenessplan. Brownies took the top spot, she had a real sweet tooth, while my beloved oat and raisin cookies came in last.Some days it was hard to believe I was in love with such a monster.

Hours later, I observed her through the break in the trees. For almost ten minutes I’d watched her like a creeper, standing just far enough back so she wouldn’t catch sight of my sweaty form as she paced my driveway. Short strides and harsh turns carrying her from one side to the other.

Perhaps she’d come to call me an arsehole to my face. The anticipation made me lightheaded.

The sun disappeared behind the tree line, turning the yellowing leaves a burned gold. I glanced at my watch again, letting the axe I’d been using to rage-split wood fall against my thigh. Make that fifteen minutes.

On her next turn she appeared to come to a decision, steeling her shoulders and murmuring something too indiscernible for me to make out, though I imagined it went alittle like,What the hell am I doing outside this rude fucker’s house?

For that, I had no answer either.

Every muscle in my body clenched at the mere sight of her, demanding I replace all thoughts of this clusterfuck of a day with the exquisite high that sparring with her would grant me. But agitation still left me feeling restless, like a heavy shadow constricting my chest. She was the last person I wanted to take my resentment out on. If she grew the nerve to knock, I’d ignore her—

Her knuckles rapped two light taps. I broke the tree line before I could blink. “Over here.”So much for ignoring her.

She whirled, eyes raking over me, taking in what I knew were wet patches, sticking my white T-shirt to damp skin. “Nice axe,” she said easily, but I didn’t miss the bob in her throat. “Are you going to let me in?”

That’s a terrible fucking idea, sweetheart. My hand tightened around the wooden handle until it bit into my skin. “Sorry, my mum says I can’t play out tonight.”

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