Chapter 15

15

I t was pissing outside. The incessant downpour pounded against the library windows in a steady rhythm that was both soothing and maddening.

The infamous Scottish rain.

Gennie sat on one of the oversized leather chairs, a book open in her lap, but her mind didn’t stay on the words. She stared at the ceiling and swallowed the frustration writhing within her. She hated this – being stuck and useless. She wasn’t the type to sit around and be looked after.

Yet, here she was, in need of Nathan’s help. It grated against every stubborn part of her being. She’d always taken care of herself. And, as soon as she could, her mum as well.

The past two weeks had seen them settling into a routine. She helped with breakfast as much as possible, limping around and trying not to spill coffee or knock over Abby’s porridge.

Nathan took Abby to school in rotation with other parents, which was as close to involvement with them as he was willing to get. After dropping Abby off, he’d make sure Gennie was settled before he headed to the distillery. Mornings slipped by, marked only by the patter of rain and the rustle of pages being turned. He’d come back for lunch, sometimes something freshly cooked, sometimes sandwiches, and they’d eat together. He kept conversations to a minimum and innocuous topics. His gin, her stunts, Abby. In the afternoons, he either returned to the distillery or holed up in his study until Abby came home from school. He’d been avoiding her as best he could, as politely as possible.

It stung, though.

The crew on set weren’t happy about Gennie’s accident but supportive. These things happened. The insurance would cover at least part of her lost income. And it wasn’t a major injury, she’d be back in no time. Some of Gennie’s stunts were taken over by Melody; others were put on hold for the upcoming weeks. Still, the pressure was mounting. Not least because Chloe, the star Gennie doubled for, had taken her diva antics to stratospheric levels.

Gennie’s foot no longer looked like a football, but she still couldn’t put all of her weight on it. And her rib hurt like a bitch. She didn’t need some X-ray to know it was cracked, not like they could fix it either way. This wasn’t her first rodeo. Third time, actually. So yeah, it would simply take a while.

By now, Gennie was able to limp up the stairs on her own, but only with teeth-grinding agony and once-a-day max. Which meant that Nathan had become a bit of an errand boy.

Maybe he was feeling guilty because she’d got hurt saving Abby, but he sure didn’t act like caring for her useless ass bothered him. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it, in that stoic way of his. And yeah, it was weird having someone pamper her. But she was starting to enjoy it, too. At least a little.

Nathan was a whole different league from any man she’d ever met, including Daniel. That narcissistic bastard had never done anything remotely selfless. Not a single thing that didn’t serve him or feed his fragile, bloated ego. Next to Nathan, Daniel – the man she’d twisted herself into all sorts of metaphorical and literal shapes for – was nothing but a pretty face, an empty shell of a person. Seriously, what had she ever seen in the charm of that damaged dick? It was inconceivable to her now.

Feeling the solid, dependable weight of Nathan’s care made her old infatuation seem like a bad joke.

Gennie thought about Nathan’s past as a pop star and the betrayal he’d mentioned. He obviously didn’t want to tell her everything that happened. But she was going to get it out of him, sooner or later.

The library door creaked open, and Nathan stepped in, bringing a gust of cold, damp air with him. He looked over at her and his eyes softened a fraction. ‘Need anything?’

An amused snort escaped her as she closed her book. ‘Yeah, a new foot and a pain-free rib, please. A bucket of pumpkin spice latte. And throw in a winning lottery ticket while you’re at it.’

‘I got you one of those pumpkin coffees from Blairdrochaid.’ He looked straight at her, those steely blues unusually warm, and handed her the mug. ‘You need anything else?’

He’d gone to town and got her a latte? She tried to get up to thank him for the coffee with a hug. The pain in her rib pulsed with every movement.

‘Like…a hand?’ His voice was gruff, but concern glinted in his eyes.

For a moment, her pride flared. She’d always valued her self-sufficiency. And she’d never learned to ask for assistance. Until now. ‘Yeah, looks like it.’

So he helped her up as if she were made of porcelain. She tried not to get dizzy from the hard contours of his muscles under her palms. ‘Thanks.’ She masked the flutter with a cool flick of her gaze. Suddenly she felt too shy to hug him.

‘It’s okay.’ He nodded and turned to leave.

‘Hey…Nathan?’

‘Aye?’

‘Thanks for being…you.’

‘I don’t know how to be anyone else.’ He paused, then gave her a small shrug before he headed out again.

She hated this vulnerability, this forced need to rely on him. But there was also an unexpected sense of relief in not having to be strong all the time. To be supported. A new, unsettling feeling she wasn’t sure what to do with.

Rain lashed the windows in a fury. Gennie slouched deeper into the squashy sofa and cradled a steaming bowl of popcorn. The buttery smell mingled with the faint scent of pumpkin spice from the candle Nathan had lit earlier at Abby’s insistence since it was about three weeks to Halloween and, therefore, ‘spooky season’.

He looked every bit his grumpy self as he stared at the television and fumbled with the remote. Hair a mess, eyebrows narrowed in concentration. Still, his ever-present storm cloud seemed tempered by the cosiness of a movie night. There was a glow about him that snagged her attention. A solid warmth that drew her in.

Abby carefully cuddled up beside Gennie. Her uninjured flank, not the one with the broken rib. Her small body radiated like a soothing furnace, a little human blanket.

‘What film do you want to watch?’ he asked.

‘Doctor Doolittle!’ Abby exclaimed.

His eyes held a hint of annoyed amusement. ‘Again?’

‘Yes!’

Gennie caught his eye, and they shared a brief smile over Abby’s head.

As the film started, an odd sense of comfort swept through Gennie. It was a simple moment, calm and homely. The kind she hadn’t experienced much in her life. She tried to tune into the movie, but her mind kept drifting. The rhythmic patter of the rain against the window, Abby snuggling into her side, the gravity of Nathan’s presence… It all felt bizarrely normal. Here she was, caught off guard by the plain sweetness of a chilly fall evening.

‘Do you get scared at work?’ Abby asked.

‘Sometimes, a little,’ Gennie admitted. ‘But that’s part of the fun.’

‘Where do you live? In Scotland?’

‘No, Abster. I live in Los Angeles. In America, on the other side of the world.’

Abby tilted her head, thinking. ‘What’s it like there?’

Gennie smiled. ‘It’s always busy. Traffic’s a nightmare, but the weather’s great. Less rainy than Scotland. I live with my mum in a small house in Venice Beach, near the Pacific Ocean. And the job… Well, it’s fun. Dangerous and fun.’

‘Sounds exciting,’ Nathan said. His eyes never left the screen, though she could tell he was listening closely. ‘Venice Beach… Isn’t that where the cool people go to die?’

‘Yep, that’s the place. It’s full of all sorts of people. There’s always something going on. Street performers, artists, musicians. And a lot of unhoused people, sadly. But never a dull moment, that’s for sure.’

Sir Hubert jumped onto the couch. ‘There are even two cats that live in a bookshop,’ Gennie said.

‘Cool.’ Abby’s attention was already drawn back to the flickering scenes of the film.

‘Do you miss it?’ Nathan asked. ‘L.A., I mean.’

‘Not really. It’s nice to have a break from the chaos and all that sunshine. The company here isn’t so bad, either.’

His lips curled into a brief smile. ‘Glad to hear it.’

She took in the room, noting the calm. As a kid, she rarely ever had this. A quiet evening with adults who weren’t wasted, arguing, or zonked out. The memory slapped her. Her childhood had been a whirlwind of instability.

Now, sitting here, nestled in this idyllic scene, the contrast was almost too much to process. As if she was finally catching a glimpse of a life she’d only dreamed of, and it had her reeling.

Abby had dozed off in her arms, her blonde hair spilled over Gennie’s chest. She tried to shake off the memories and turn her attention to the movie. But the realisation preyed on her, a painful reminder of everything she’d missed growing up. Her mother’s chaotic life had always taken precedence. Nights spent alone while Crystal chased her next thrill or epiphany. Anything could have happened at any time. Safety and calm were foreign concepts, and Gennie had never felt like a number one priority.

Now, holding Abby, it hit her hard.

This was what she’d wanted as a kid. What she’d needed. What every child deserved.

These two on the couch with her weren’t just offering her a place to crash. They were giving her space to heal more than a broken rib and a sprained ankle. They were patching up a part of her soul she hadn’t fully realised was so broken. She swallowed hard, fighting the tightness in her throat.

‘You okay?’ Nathan’s voice broke through the fog of her thoughts.

‘Yeah.’ She forced a smile. ‘Just realising some stuff.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like how much I appreciate this,’ she said. ‘You and Abby. Watching a movie together. It’s…nice.’

‘It is, aye.’

Gennie leaned back and sunk deeper into the cushions. The steady beat of the rain and the comforting presence of Nathan and Abby made her eyelids heavy. She was drifting, the movie a distant murmur in her ears. This kind of solace and peace was new to her, but she liked it. Very much. So she let herself fall into it like into a massive, fluffy pile of fall leaves.

Flames sputtered in the fireplace, random images flickered on the telly. Nathan’s mind was elsewhere. Gennie was out for the count, chin tipped forward. Abby was curled up on her side, cheek against Gennie’s chest, tiny hand fisted in the cotton of her shirt. An inexplicable tightness cinched his throat at the scene. The sight of his child blossoming around Gennie was as humbling as it was alarming.

Because she wasn’t here to stay. She’d go back to L.A. That’s where her life was.

And then what?

The thought tore at him. Abby would be inconsolable, the inevitable pain of loss looming over her a heavy cloud.

Aye, right. Over Abby .

There was no denying that this stranger had become a part of their lives over these past two weeks. Beat the hell out of him how exactly she’d wormed her way past his doubts and defences onto his couch and into his good books. But she had. He’d more than grown accustomed to her presence – he craved it. The way she would hum a tune in the morning, lost in her own world. The quiet moments when she’d bury herself in a book, the way she clapped into her hands when he brought her a pumpkin spice latte from the coffee shop, and her sharp, snarky remarks that kept him on his toes. With Gennie here, the house wasn’t bricks and mortar. It was alive.

And, hell, so was he.

A ray of sunshine on a dreich day had nothing on Gennie with a G.

He didn’t know the details, but from what he’d pieced together, her childhood had been a mess. She’d been forced to grow up too fast, learn the hard way. Maybe that was what pulled him to her like a magnet. She was older and wiser inside than her years let on. Maybe age really was just a number. With her, he was beginning to believe it.

He admired her resilience – the sheer grit it took to come out the other side still so sweet, strong, and kind beneath all that cocky spunk.

And she didn’t give a rat’s arse about his past. She didn’t know everything, though. But she didn’t seem to be put off or to have googled him. She hadn’t run for the hills.

His heart did a strange flip in his chest. He wanted to protect her, to shelter her, to give her the home she never had.

Dammit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This meant trouble. Big trouble. And he wasn’t prepared for it. They weren’t prepared for it.

He swallowed hard. Gennie and Abby curled up together. They looked so peaceful, so right. His heart melted at the sight of her holding his daughter so protectively, even in sleep.

Gentlestorm Rivers had come into his life like a hurricane and turned everything upside down.

For the first time, he wanted to trust again. It felt right.

And he…well, he was fucked.

He had no idea how long she would stay. If she could start filming again in a week or two. How long she was on set. He’d never asked. Because he didn’t want to know the answer.

Carefully, he peeled Abby out of Gennie’s arms and carried her sleep-heavy little body to bed. Then he went back downstairs and lifted Gennie into his arms. Her pliant weight hardly registered as he held her close.

This woman who had captured his heart.

He wouldn’t act on it, though. He knew better. A woman like that could never be into an older, washed-up warbler and single-dad hermit.

His embrace tightened, torn between wanting to hold her forever and knowing he shouldn’t. Every second with her would make the goodbye even more heartbreaking. But he couldn’t stay away.

As he carried her up the stairs, she snuggled against the hollow of his neck. Her sleepy mumble broke the breathless quiet, ‘You’re a good man. Such a good man.’

And yet it took this good man every ounce of his willpower to take her to her own bed – and not his.