Page 68 of Knots About You
‘I’m not going to the bloody city,’ Jim said.
Jean’s jaw clenched. ‘Yes, youbloody wellwill.’
Jean turned from a sweet older lady to something to fear at the drop of a hat. She wasn’t messing when it came to her husband’s health.
‘A day or two of bed rest, and he’ll be right as rain. Then no lifting. No working. Short, easy walks only. If you experience pain again that’s worse or lasts longer, call 999. Understood?’ Doctor Fraser stood, and Jim at least had the gall to look somewhat kowtowed.
Jim gave the slightest nod. ‘Understood.’
Jean followed the doctor outside, whispering to him.
Grabbing one of the tartan blankets from the basket, I settled it over Jim’s knee, while Owen fetched him a cup of tea, the universal fix for everything. His colour flushed back into his face as the minutes passed. When his eyes fluttered closed, I lifted the tea mug from his hands. Jean sat beside him and patted his hand while Isla went to get her car to give them a lift home.
‘Keep him out of the distillery, Owen. For real this time.’
Owen nodded once. ‘Aye, I will.’
‘I’ll get printing some banned posters to put up,’ I said, trying to lighten the mood.
Neither laughed, but Jean reached out and squeezed my hand.
Later, I found Owen by the back step, his hands braced on the doorframe like he was using the house’s weight to keep him grounded. Dusk settled down around the distillery, and I stepped forward to wrap my arms around his waist, cuddling him in from behind.
‘I’ve known for a while that Dad had to step all the way back, but I wasn’t ready to face the weight of the distillery fully on my shoulders.’ His words were heavy. ‘Tours. Accounts. Repairs. Staff. The bloody salesmen. Our name. If I drop any of it?—’
His breath stuttered, like his life had splintered through it. ‘I don’t want to fail him. All of them.’
I slid a hand up to his chest, feeling the way his heart thumped. ‘Maybe…it doesn’t all have to be on your shoulders.’
He huffed out a sound that was half-laugh and half-sob. ‘It’sisall on me. Isla does so much, but if it fails, I fail.’
‘We’re not living in the nineteen hundreds.’ I turned him around and placed my hands on either side of his face. ‘And Isla is fucking amazing. Split it down the middle. Let her share the weight. She loves the business. And she loves you.’
His green eyes softened as he looked down at me. ‘Dad wants me to be like him.’
‘Look at your dad. Has he ever taken a day off? It’s like whisky flows through his veins. I’ve been there, well, less whisky and more calming client-based storms. But drowning in the heaviness of it all. It’s okay to share the load, Owen. It’s more than okay. It’s how we survive. How to thrive.’
Owen exhaled and set his hands over mine. A hundred arguments queued behind those deep eyes, and I saw the moment he discarded them.
‘I’ll ask her,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
‘Good boy.’
A flicker of laughter made his eyes glint.
‘We’ll keep him out of the distillery, and then figure the rest.’
‘Together.’ I grazed my lips over his.
twenty-seven
OWEN
Claire leantover me to grab the bowl of crisps from the arm of the sofa. She paused with them in her lap as she picked her favourite ones – the rare ones that have an air bubble in the middle.
The King of Queens was played on TV, but I only half-focused on it. I’d seen every episode a hundred times before.
‘I’m afraid to let you down like this, but I’ve totally fallen for Arthur.’ Claire nudged me and fed me one of the smoky bacon crisps.
