Always You (Adair Family 3)

To my relief, she took my hand, and I helped her out. I released her as soon as she was free and followed her back up the beach to where she’d left her shoes. She sat down and didn’t bother to reach for them. Instead, she drew her knees to her chest and locked her arms around them. Strands of loose hair danced on the breeze around her face, and as I sat beside her, I noted how the lighter color she’d dyed it made her eyes so much bluer.

To be honest, I rarely noticed changes in a woman unless she pointed them out. I never noticed when Stacey did something different to her hair, not because I didn’t care, but because I was a bloke. The kind of bloke who didn’t pay attention to things I didn’t think mattered.

But I noticed when Arro lightened her hair.

I mirrored her pose and stared out at the water, not wanting to ponder my reasons for that. I still couldn’t work out when she’d gone from Lachlan’s wee sister to a woman I was so aware of.

“I’ve never told anyone this …” Her soft, lilting voice carried. “But I blamed myself for my mother’s death.”

Pain, sharp and surprising, knifed through my chest at the confession. “Arro, no,” I said gruffly, wanting to reach for her but forcing myself not to. I studied her stunning face until she finally looked up. Another sharp pang of pain buffeted into me at the torment in her expression. “You are not to blame.”

Vivien Adair, her mother, had died in childbirth. Lachlan told me the doctors had warned the Adairs another birth might be difficult, but he said his mum was determined to have a wee girl.

Arro shrugged unhappily. “I know that rationally. But for the longest time, I thought the reason my dad was so distant with me was because he blamed me too. And I think I was right.” Tears brightened her eyes as she gazed back out at the water. “He resented me and hated himself for it. I think it took me going away to university for him to finally make peace with it all. To try to be a better father.

“You know, for so long, every time I was in a room with him, I hated myself. And when he was gone, when it was just Lachlan and the boys, that self-hatred fell away because they made damn sure I knew I was loved. It got to the point where I never wanted to see Dad because he could so easily take that away from me. When I was at university, it was like I was who I was always meant to be.”

She bit her lip, nostrils flaring against tears. Blinking rapidly, however, she fought them back and took a deep breath. “I was confident and a bit cocky and flirty in Aberdeen. But I’d come home to just him and was reminded of my guilt, that just by being here, I’d killed a mum I never got the chance to know. The Arro from Aberdeen disappeared in an instant, and I hated myself all over again.”

I squeezed my eyes closed.

Knowing more than a little something about self-loathing, I fucking despised that Arro felt that way. I wanted to rail at the universe for it. “I’m sorry.”

She nudged me with her shoulder, her voice catching as she said, “It got better. I graduated, and despite everything, I decided I didn’t want to leave Ardnoch, so I moved back home with plans to rent somewhere in the village, if I could. But Dad was different. He wanted to spend time with me and asked me about my life, my day, my opinions. And I ate up every second, desperate for him to love me. We’d come out here”—she gestured to the beach—“every night with Bram, my dad’s dog. Dad was Bram’s everything. He died weeks after him. Did you know that?”

I shook my head.

“A broken heart.” Her breath hitched. “Bram died of a broken heart, just like his master. Dad started talking to me about Mum on those walks. Telling me all the things I’d longed to know about her. He loved her so much.” Arro shook her head as if in amazement. “So much that losing her broke him in a way he never recovered from. Part of me envied him for having loved someone that much, and another part of me was destroyed for him, and then yet another, darker part hated him for it. I wanted him to be stronger. As cruel as that sounds. My whole life, I’d just wanted him to be strong enough to be a good dad to me, and it had taken him until I was an adult to get there.

“But I made a conscious decision not to be bitter and to do my best to make sure our relationship was a good one going forward. And we were getting somewhere, Mackennon. We were growing toward something better. Then that night happened.” Her breath hitched again, and when I looked at her, the tears escaped, falling quickly down her cheeks. “All I could do was hold him in my arms while we waited for the ambulance.” Arro swiped at her tears. “But he knew he was dying. And he told me—” She sobbed, and I reached for her, pulling her hand into mine. “He told me he loved me. It was the first time he’d ever said those words to me. I never got to live a life with him with that sentiment between us.”

Arro’s expression made my heart thump as she squeezed my hand. “You should go to Robyn, Mackennon.”

I jerked back like I’d been hit, surprised by the turn of her thoughts.

“You should tell her you love her in case you never get the chance.”

My heart raced, that Arro would care enough about it when her heart was filled with grief. “I … I don’t deserve it. I won’t barge into Robbie’s life like that. If she comes to me, then I’ll make sure she knows I love her.”

“You shouldn’t wait for those moments to come to you. You should make them happen. I promised myself after Dad said those words, seconds before he died, that I’d never wait to say those words again when I feel them.” Arro turned in the sand now, her tear-streaked face filled with a mixture of what seemed like determination and apprehension.

My heart was ready to jump out of my chest.

Because I knew what she was going to say.

“Mackennon, I—”

“Don’t.” The word whistled sharply through the air like a goddamn bullet and hit her with the impact of one. Remorse filled me, but my fear was greater. “Arro … don’t.”

Her shock and hurt dissipated as she studied me. Sadness remained.

I expected anger, bitterness, but Arro leaned into me and reached up to press a sweet kiss to my cheek. Without another word, she pulled on her boots and stood.

For a few seconds, I watched her walk away, still feeling her lips on my skin.

There was no reproach from her. No fury that I couldn’t return her feelings.

And suddenly, I was more terrified than I’d ever been.