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“Colin, I know you’re there. I know you can hear me. Please don’t shut me out. Please.”
The shadow of his feet retreated followed by the soft click of his door closing once more. Samantha choked as the weight of her tears became too much. He wasn’t being fair. They had one more day. It was his fault they couldn’t be together and she understood that from the get go, but now he was cutting their time even shorter. Who gave him the right?
She silently cried until she had the sense to know her tears were useless. If he wanted to shut her out, let him. Angry that she couldn’t even use the bathroom to clean up her face, she grabbed her debit card and driver’s license, a few twenties from her wallet, and headed out the door.
Luckily, the first person she saw was Kelly. She knew he had figured out what was going on to some extent and at this point she really didn’t give a shit who knew what.
“Hey, love, you feeling better?”
Sam knew she looked a fright, but there was nothing she could do about it at the moment, not without the use of her damn bathroom.
“Will you take me somewhere, Kelly?”
“Sure. Where do you need to go?”
“Away from here.”
He considered her request, his gaze scrutinizing. Something he saw in her expression must have told him she needed to escape. Without asking for further explanation, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys.
Dangling them from his fingers he said, “Let’s go.”
Kelly drove an old beat up truck that smelled of worn in leather and sex. There was an Irish trinity pendant hanging from his rearview mirror and Samantha watched it twirl and lean from side to side as they drove to God knew where. She didn’t care where he was taking her so long as it was away from Colin.
She appreciated that Kelly didn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless babble. She wanted to simply stew for a while.
The truck slowed as they pulled up to the ball field. Leaning back, Kelly reached across her lap and opened the glove compartment. He pulled out a flask and she said, “Are you sure that’s a good idea if we have to drive back?”
“It’s not for me, love. It’s for you.”
She stared at him as if he were crazy. Whatever Maureen had given her earlier felt like it burned a hole through her esophagus. She really hoped it wasn’t Irish whiskey again. Not wanting to offend him, especially when he had helped her run, she said, “It’s not even eleven in the morning.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere. Come on.”
She followed him to the dugout and they sat on the same bench they had occupied that first game.
He handed her the flask. “Wanna tell me what’s going on, Sammy? I know it has to do with Colin and I know what you feel for him is more than what friend's should probably feel for their boyfriend’s brothers.”
She considered confessing everything to Kelly, but in the end chose the whiskey. Taking the flask from his hands, she unscrewed the cap and brought the cool metal nozzle to her lips. Even the fumes smelled like turpentine. She shut her eyes and tipped back a sip.
Sam sputtered and coughed as it made it past her throat and started a fire deep in her belly. “Oh, God, how do you drink that?”
He laughed. “Now what kind of Irish lass are you if you can’t drink your Tullamore Dew?”
“A sober one.”
“Ah, now that’s no fun. Give it another go. The second time’s not that bad.”
She gave him a skeptical look and held her breath as she took another sip.Nope, still horrible.
Kelly got a good chuckle out of her contorting face as she suffered through each swig.
Over the next several minutes he coached and coaxed her into several more sips. The whiskey didn’t burn as much anymore. They decided to take a walk around the bases and wound up lying in center field watching clouds roll by.
“Are you feelin’ a bit better now, love?” he asked in an Irish lilt.
She giggled and had no idea why. “Yes. Why do you guys all fake Irish accents?”
“Ah, we are not fakin’, love. The Gaelic’s in our blood. It tis what it means to be a McCullough. We know how it makes the lassies mad with lust so we try to talk normal- like most of the time.”
