Page 53 of Snowed In
He never said it to me, but I know he did. Liam was the obvious choice, but his wife Mairead’s family left her land, so it made sense that he helped her in looking after that. He grew interested in the business side of things anyway and was more at home balancing the books than mucking out the stalls. Andrew came next, but he never had the heart for it. Or the head. Photography was his thing, and now he’s staying in Chicago; there’s no hope of it. Hannah’s a straight-up no. She’d rather lose herself in her drawings, and me…
As a kid, I loved helping him out. As a teenager, I couldn’t think of anything worse. I probably broke his heart, as all shitty kids do, but I know he always thought I’d get back to it. Honestly, so did I. I just assumed it’s where I’d end up, and that was maybe why I rebelled so much back then. It was only when Andrew left for the States that I realized it was even possible toleave. That you don’t have to stay in the same place you grew up. Once I figured that out, I never looked back.
And I don’t think he ever forgave me.
“Need some help?” I call, as he strides across the yard. He’s dressed for the cold in a heavy-duty coat and hat and looks the exact same as the image I have of him in my head: a tall, burly man with weathered, reddened skin from working outside. Bushy brows, dark eyes, and an unruffled aura around him, like as long as he gets up every day and does his tasks, the world will keep on spinning.
I give him a hug, the smell of earth and animals filling my nostrils before I step back.
“You’re alright,” he says easily. “I hear you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”
“Megan. She’s—”
“The knitting girl.”
I pause in surprise. “Yeah,” I say. “How did you know that?”
“The O’Sullivan daughter? She used to knit hats for the lambs when she was a child. Her mother would drop them over, bring her sometimes.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“She was only a young thing,” he says, and I smile. The knitting girl. She’ll like that.
“Most people think of her as the runaway bride,” I tell him, and he grunts.
“People like to talk,” he says before he pauses. “Be nice to her, yeah?”
“How do you mean?”
“Ah, you know.”
I tense. “I don’t,” I say, already knowing where this is going.
“Just don’t play around with her,” he says, sounding exasperated, and I feel the tightness building in the back of my shoulders even as I keep my voice calm.
“I don’t play around.”
“I don’t mean anything by it,” Dad says placidly. “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention the same girl twice. And that’s fine when I don’t know her, but you’re not the one who’ll have to see her mother every other week in town.”
“That’s what you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know what you—”
“No,” I say. “You don’t.”
Dad falls silent, his expression shuttering, and I remind myself that this, this right here, is why Megan and I came to our agreement in the first place. So he’d stop thinking of me like I’m…
“I’m not playing around with her,” I say, calmer than before. “I didn’t play around with anyone else either, but that doesn’t seem to matter.”
“Christian—”
I’m already heading toward the car. “The heating still isn’t working, by the way. I told Mam, but I’m going to call someone to come take a look at it. You guys can’t keep relying on hot water bottles.”
“Where are you going?” Dad calls after me, and I can hear the frustration in his voice.
“To pick up my girlfriend,” I say shortly and slide inside, slamming the door shut.
TWELVE
