Eternal: More Love Stories With Bite (28 page)

My heart thudded at the thought, and for a second my mind blanked. But I've never been one for wallowing. "That's okay. We'll get a rancher house."

He raised his eyes to meet mine. "What?" he said, almost breathless.

"That way you won't have to worry about stairs."

"You still want to marry me?"

I
hesitated. "Will you still be able to—I mean, can we still have kids?"

His face relaxed into a smile. "I'll still be able to . . . and yes, we'll have as many kids as you want. Everything still works in that department."

"Oh, good." I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. "Then there's nothing to worry about. My daddy gave us his blessing before he died, and not even Brendan'll break that promise." When my father drowned two years ago, his twenty-one-year-old brother married my mom. It's gross, because Brendan's young enough to be
my
brother, and now he's my stepdad. But I guess it beats her marrying some old wrinkly guy.

Traveller marriages aren't like non-Travellers' (or "country folk," as we call them when we're being nice). It's old- school—the parents make the matches, and the kids agree to it. Maybe two families want to go into business together, or a girl's father needs a son-in-law who's good at paving. Since the groom leaves his family to join his wife's, the bride's parents usually pay a dowry.

Basically, it's all about family and money and keeping our people at peace. Love is a bonus.

But I got lucky, first in having a mother who wants me to do something with my life other than get married, manage the family finances, and—most important—have lots of babies (though she says babies are 100 percent nonnegotiable).

Second lucky thing was having a father who wanted a son-in-law whose brains were bigger than his biceps. He always said we O'Rileys were special, so why should we marry someone average?

Third and most humongous lucky thing—finding Liam. Lucky, not just because he's cute and funny and kind, but because his family wasn't asking much of a dowry. Lovable
and
affordable.

"I can still drive," Liam said. "It's not like I'll be paralyzed. I just might not be able to control my legs so well all the time." He touched my face with a wobbly hand. "But I'll fight this, if I got you to fight for. I'll dance at our wedding, even if it's just a slow dance."

"You better." I snuggled up to him again, closing my eyes against the air conditioner's icy breeze. "We can practice tomorrow at Bridget's reception. I swear I'm catching that bouquet even if I have to gouge Ellie Sherlock's eyes out."

"I heard the girl who catches the bouquet at a vampire wedding has to be dessert."

I laughed. "Nuh-uh."

"It's true. I read it online."

I sat up to look him in the eyes, which sparkled all kinds of wicked. "Liar."

"Thief." He pulled me into another kiss, one without a scrap of doubt.

"Let's go to my house," I said when I could catch a breath. "Maybe Nana will be out shopping."

Liam put the car in drive so fast, the tires squealed. He watched the road as he drove, but he must've felt the way my eyes burned into him, because he didn't stop smiling.

Until he caught sight of my house.

Spooked by Liam's scowl, I flipped back the sun visor to see a man on my roof. "What does he want now?"

"What does he always want?" Liam parked in the driveway, hitting the brakes a little too hard. I handed him his cane, which he took reluctantly.

"Don't help me out of the car," he said.

"Duh." I pretended to sift through my bag for my keys, to give him time to get on his feet, so I wouldn't be waiting for him and making him look weak.

Finally I joined Liam at the end of the brick path leading to our front door. The shirtless young man on my roof, Gavin Mallory, straightened up and turned around.

"Oh, hi, Cass." He swiped the sweat off his broad, bare chest. "Hot one, huh?"

"You'll get sunburned, idiot."

"Nah, too late in the day." He cracked his knuckles, then laced his fingers behind his head, sweeping back his dark hair and displaying every muscle in his chest and arms.

To be totally honest, he was a magnificent specimen of maleness, but I'd say the same about my uncle Donal's Rottweilers, Thomas and Aquinas.

"You practicing your scams on my grandmother?" I asked him. "Pretending to fix her perfectly good roof?"

"Your dad called me, said to see if she needed any work done around the house." He finally looked at Liam. "Man's work."

"What else did Brendan say to you?" No way I'd call my stepfather by anything but his name.

"Can't tell you." Grinning, Gavin picked up the hammer and tucked a pair of nails into the corner of his mouth. "Your Nana might, if you ask real nice."

"When's he and Mama coming home?"

Gavin shrugged. "Depends."

Like most Travellers their age, my mother and stepfather went on the road during the spring to earn money. They'd get me
when
school
let
out so I
could
work with them, then we'd
all
come
back
here in the fall. Just because we call ourselves "Travellers" doesn't mean most of us don't have houses.

I started down the front walk and noticed Liam wasn't following me. When I turned, I saw his and Gavin's eyes locked like dogs about to fight. Or like vampires about to attack.

I rattled the screen door handle, pretending it was jammed. The noise got Liam's attention, and
he
followed me inside. I heard my grandmother banging around in the kitchen.

"Nana, there's a troll on the roof," I called as
I
sifted through the mail on the hall table. "Want me to call the exterminator?"

"Cass?" She came out of the kitchen, holding a tray of brownies in oven-mitted hands, then stopped short. "Liam."

He smiled at her. "Hi, Mrs. O'Riley. Those smell awful good."

My chest tightened as
I
realized the brownies had chocolate chips. Nana only made double-chocolate brownies when something bad had happened. Like when Granddad got arrested for racketeering, and later, when he was sentenced to thirty years in prison. And then again when my father died.

"Why did you make those?" I asked Nana with a quivery voice.

"I . . . uh, it's a family matter." She glanced at Liam.

I touched
his
arm. "Liam's family. There's nothing you can tell me that you can't tell him."

She bowed her head, then shook it slowly. That tight feeling in my chest spread to my stomach.

"It's okay. I'll go." Liam kissed my cheek. "Call you later, let you know how that thing with Eric worked out."

I'd completely forgotten about stealing my classmate's wallet. I
had a feeling a school bully was about to seem like a teeny problem.

When
he
was gone, Nana sighed. "Such a good boy. Respects his elders. I always hoped he could teach you that." She tilted her head back toward the kitchen table. "Let's sit."

I crossed my arms. "If you have double-chocolate-brownie- worthy news, you better tell me right now."

"They're burning my fingers through these old mitts." She set them on a souvenir trivet from Bennettsville—the
town
where my granddad's serving out
his
term in federal prison—then slowly tugged off the shamrock mitts. "Your father called."

"From beyond the grave? Hallelujah, it's a miracle."

"Your stepfather," she said with an edge in her voice. "He says business is real good up there."

"Up where?"

"He can't say over the phone. Anyways, now that our family will have a little more money, he says that changes things for your future."

"Like school?" Maybe I could go to my pick of colleges instead of whichever would give me a full scholarship. Travellers don't do loans.

"No, not college." She fidgeted with her wedding ring, turning it around and around.

"Nana." I stepped forward and gently took her hands. "Tell me his exact words. That way it won't be like it came from you."

She gripped my fingers. "He said, 'Now that I've got money, I can afford a higher quality son-in-law.'" The wrinkles deepened around her eyes. "I'm so sorry, sweetpea."

I couldn't breathe in. I could only force out more and more air, like a fish stuck on a creek bank. "H . . . h . . . high ..."

"You want to sit down?" she said. "Have a brownie?"

I drew in a breath, so hard I almost choked. "Higher quality?" I pulled away. "What am I, a mare looking for a stud? This is my life we're talking about."

"Cass—"

"And who's higher quality than Liam?"

Nana glanced at the front door. Through the screen I heard someone whistling off-tune.

I put up my hands. "Oh, no. No way. No. No. No. Not Gavin."

"Why not?"

"He's a moron."

"Well, now, not technically. His parents had him tested."

"But he doesn't know sh—he doesn't know anything about me."

"That's because you've been joined at the hip with Liam all these years. You haven't given Gavin a chance."

"Brendan can't do this. It ain't right!" I bit my lip. "It's not right. Daddy promised me to Liam."

"Like it or not, Brendan's your daddy now."

"I'm calling Mama." I slung my bag over my shoulder, then stomped into the kitchen.
"After I
get some brownies."

* * * *

I
lay on my bed, listening to my mother's voicemail greeting for the third time. After the beep, I kept going where I left off the last message:

"Liam's a master forger. And he's brilliant with online finance. Brendan thinks way too small—he doesn't get that computers
are
the future.
All
he wants to
do
is spray aluminum
paste
on people's driveways. Small, Mama, small." I poked
my
finger at the ceiling. "Gavin's the exact same way.
Don't you
want better for me? Don't
you
want me to be happy?" I
finished in a whisper, my throat closing. "Like you were
with Daddy?"

I hung up, even though there was time left on the voice- mail. I stared at the ceiling, wondering what problems my country-folk classmates were obsessing over tonight. Scoring the mellowest weed? Finding the perfect flip-flops? I bet none of
them
was feeling their life slip away.