I'll See You Again: A Scottish rock star, standalone opposites-attract romance (Reigning Hearts Book 4)

by K. G. Fletcher

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Bathed in the morning light, sipping coffee from a mug, Nicky sat on the window seat among an array of overstuffed pillows in the quaint library of Stone Farm. The walls of the room held custom shelves neatly stacked high with books, the sweet musty aroma of ink and paper comforting to her senses. Her eyelids felt heavy with fatigue, the lack of sleep evident by the dark circles shadowing the skin under her lashes. The steam from her cup swirled around her face as she watched Mac outside talking on her phone.

  Earlier, while lying in his arms in the large sleigh bed upstairs, he’d told her it was time he called his uncle, and his manager, Ben. “I know they’re probably worried sick. It’s time I faced this head-on.”

  “Are you sure?” she countered, her concern for him obvious in her voice. “You hardly slept at all. Maybe you should go back to sleep, and then I can make you something to eat later. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for—”

  “Nae, mo leannan,” he interrupted calmly. His blue gaze held a definitive sadness at the dawn of the new day. “Better to do it now before I change my mind.”

  From her perch in the alcove of the window seat, Nicky could see him pacing in the faded meadow beyond the farmhouse, his auburn hair tussled by the wind. Her stomach twisted with worry, hoping he mustered enough strength to hold it together while he spoke on the phone. She couldn’t imagine all he had to work out with his uncle back in Scotland, and his record label in the States, reassuring him she’d be by his side, every step of the way no matter what.

  When he ended his last call, she watched him start toward the front of the house, his slow gait evidence of his grief-stricken state. With a sharp inhale, she struggled out of the library alcove, preparing herself for whatever lay ahead. The lingering scent of burned wood from the fireplace hung heavy in the air of the great room as Mac entered, his face flushed and noticeably wet with sorrow. To see him in a condition of such intense duress broke her heart.

  “Oh, Mac.”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine,” he reassured, swiping at his bearded features as he came in through the door. Clearing his throat, he angled his chin into the air and stretched his gaze to the ceiling in an effort to hamper his emotions. “I spoke to my uncle first. He’s stoic, but I know he’s in shock.” Running his hand through his disheveled hair, he shrugged off one of Chris’s jackets he’d borrowed and hung it on a peg by the door. “Ben is sending a car from Manhattan to get me this afternoon.”

  “Will you be flying back to Scotland today?” The word “flying” left a foul taste in her mouth, and as soon as she said it, she wished she could take it back.

  Mac bowed his head, averting her eyes. “Nae. They’ve asked me to…,” He paused before looking up at her with a purposeful gaze, his skin paling. “They’ve asked me to perform at the awards show after all.”

  “What?” Nicky couldn’t have heard him right. He was still going to carry on at the American Billboard Awards Show – after his entire band was just killed in a plane crash? Her mind couldn’t quite justify the performance.

  As if sensing her astonishment, Mac moved toward her and clutched her hands in his own, his voice raspy with what sounded like – hope. “No one is forcing me – the choice is mine to make, and they want me to sleep on it. The producers politely inquired if I might be willing to perform an acoustic instrumental during the ‘in memoriam’ segment of the show.”

  Nicky gasped. “You mean the part of the show where they pay tribute to those artists who have recently…died?”

  Mac soberly nodded. “Aye. At first, I balked and told Ben there was no way I could do it. But the more I process it – I believe it could be mighty powerful.” He swallowed, and his blue eyes misted as he tried to explain. “All I can think about is James…and Liam, Michael, and Brody, Mason, and Cole. I see their faces constantly in my mind. They were so ready for this – for our big break in America.”

  “But are you ready?” she proposed, gripping his hands tighter. Even though he seemed energized by the possibility he could pay tribute to his band, she knew it was too soon. The man was too fragile.

  “Mac, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Are you ready to be in front of millions of people before you’ve even had the chance to consider everything that’s happened? You need to take some time for yourself and… grieve.”

  Mac passively hung his head. “I owe it to them. They were my band, my brothers, my kin. I can’t let them down.”

  Nicky understood his loyalty and nodded, her brow furrowed in deep lines. Besides, it wasn’t her decision to make. The only thing she could do was offer her compassion and love. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”

  When he looked up, he seemed touched. “Oh, Nicky. I appreciate yer generosity. But it would be better if ye stayed behind. I have to leave for Scotland directly after my performance.”

  Dumbstruck, Nicky’s eyes went wide. He was leaving right away?

  As if sensing her waylaid expression, Mac pulled her into his arms for a heartfelt hug, his hot breath floating over the edge of her ear. “Ye have to know, I can’t imagine my life without ye. There aren’t even enough words to express how thankful I am for ye.”

  “Thankful?” she whispered, intent on staying in his embrace forever. “I love you, Mac. You don’t have to thank me for anything.”

  “Aye, I do.” Pulling back from her, he held her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “If not for ye, I may not be alive. We were meant to be.” Pressing his lips against her forehead, his tone turned thoughtful. “Ye saved my life.”

  ***

  “Amber will be stopping by to pick up Mac’s things. She should be there shortly,” Nicky advised her mother over the phone. While Mac was in the shower, she made the dreaded call to her parents, who were devastated by the news, anxious to hear from her after watching hours of news footage camped out in the family room.

  “Your father and I can bring his things over. You’re right down the street,” Marjorie sniffled.

  Nicky shook her head, knowing her mother meant well. Now wasn’t the time for them to see Mac – not in his current state of shock. “You can see him when he comes back, okay? When things aren’t so… raw and emotional.” Her voice faltered for a second, and she could hear her mother sigh.

  “I wish there was something more we could do. I can’t imagine what he’s going through.”

  “I know. It’s tragic and awful and so unfair…” A few tears slipped from the corner of her eye, and she purposefully grit her teeth to keep them at bay. “Just make sure his stuff is ready for Amber to pick up, okay?”

  “Okay. I love you, sweetie.”

  Nicky pressed her lips together and willed her emotions away. “I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you later.”

  Ending the call, she sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the watery sounds coming from the shower, her entire body void of any strength. Time seemed to have ramped up, and Mac would be leaving her in less than an hour. Oh, how she wished they could stay holed up in Chris and Fiona’s farmhouse, content to lie in each other’s arms, away from the news headlines and paparazzi – away from the pain.

  Willing herself to get a move on, she dressed hastily and made her way downstairs to clean things up. The nearly empty bottle of Hillrock sat on the floor next to the leather chair Mac had sat in, and her glass remained on the small table next to the couch. Grabbing the items, she deposited them on the kitchen counter next to their morning coffee cups. To keep her mind focused, she hand-washed the dishes with newfound strength, located the liquor cabinet, and tucked the whiskey behind the English gin and a bottle of rum. Movement from outside the front window caught her attention, and she could see a black car pull up the steep, graveled driveway. Mac had texted the gate code earlier to his manager, who was sending a car for him. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she took a deep breath, ready to greet the driver.

  Mac’
s manager, Ben Hightower exited the backseat of the vehicle with a woeful expression on his face. “Hello, Nicky.”

  Stunned to see him, she offered him an awkward hug. “Ben,” she gasped. The man was dressed in casual elegance wearing tan trousers and a crisp, white button-down shirt, his dark features marred by angst.

  “How is he?” he asked, holding her arms as if trying to read her expression.

  “He’s… hanging in there.” Shrugging his hands off her, she was ready to take the bull by the horns and defend her man, her protective nature rearing its head. “Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to be asking Mac to perform at the show? I mean, come on, Ben. I understand he’s under contract with you – but the man just lost his entire band, his family.” She couldn’t help it that her voice strained with displeasure.

  Ben held his hand up to stop her rant. “Whoa. It was just a conversation, Nicky. I can assure you, he does not have to do anything he’s not ready to do. Perhaps it might very well help him? It would be an incredible tribute.”

  “Incredible for whom?” she spat, not able to squelch her rising temper. “For the record label? For television ratings? What about Mac, huh? Give the man a fucking break, Ben! He’s a human being – a man who just lost everything. And to you, he’s just a…a commodity.” She flailed her arms dismissively in the air.

  “Hold on, Nicky. That’s not fair.” Ben rested his hands on his hips in a defensive pose. “Reid Macpherson is my friend. I would never force him to do anything he’s not comfortable with. We put it out there for him to decide – and him, alone. Do you understand?”

  They both turned to the sound of Mac clearing his throat. There he was, standing in the doorway eyeing the two of them, his expression grim. His hair was damp from the shower, and his jeans and tight tee hugged him in all the right places. The mere sight of him standing on the front stoop made Nicky audibly sigh. Immediately, she stood taller and met Ben’s anxious gaze. “I’m sorry if I came across a bit – terse. Thank you for clarifying.”

  “Completely understandable.” The Englishman turned his attention to Mac with a sorrowful smile. “Hello, Mac. I’m so glad to see you.” Ben seemed startled when Mac approached, offering an authentic hug.

  “It’s good to see ye too. Thanks for making arrangements for me.”

  Ben cleared his throat, obviously taken aback by the unexpected display of affection. “Not a problem.”

  A second car came up the drive with Amber behind the wheel. Nicky watched as Mac patted Ben on the back, and then waved cheerfully at Amber. One thing was for certain, Mac was holding it together pretty damn well under the circumstances. “There’s the bonny Amber with my things.” Turning to Ben, he reached out to squeeze his arm. “Do ye mind helping her put everything in yer car while I tend to my lady?”

  Ben gave a quick nod as if he understood. “Of course.”

  Mac entwined his fingers with Nicky’s and led her back into the farmhouse. When he closed them inside, his hands immediately forged in her hair as his mouth pressed hard against hers. Pushed up against the closed door with Mac’s heat enveloping her, she was overcome with sadness, the sudden sob from her mouth muffled by his lips covering hers. Tears fell freely from her eyes as she continued to anxiously nip and kiss him, frantic to taste him one last time. With their foreheads pressed together, his large hands cupped her face as their ragged breathing dissipated, the bright blue of his eyes calming her.

  “I’ll see ye again, mo leannan – soon.”

  “Promise?” she dared to utter, running her hands through his hair and down his bearded cheeks, tracing the outline of his handsome face.

  “Aye. I’ll do everything in my power to come back to ye. I love ye,” he confessed.

  Taking a step back, she watched as he pulled his necklace up and over his head. When he clasped it around her neck, she palmed the triskelion pendant at her chest affectionately, peering at him with wide eyes. Mac was never without his necklace on, the Celtic jewelry symbolizing so much in his life. “I can’t possibly—,” she started.

  “Aye,” he interrupted, placing two fingers over her mouth. “Keep it on ye until I return – close to yer heart.” His penetrating blue gaze held determination. “Let it be a reminder how much I love ye.”

  Their eyes locked for a few seconds more before Nicky lunged and held on to him for dear life.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  And just like that, Reid Macpherson was gone.

  Nicky went through the motions of life as a wedding planner, pre-Reid Macpherson, and tried to stay busy with her work. The first few days were spent fending off the constant stream of phone calls and emails since the world learned Mac was with her on US soil when the tragedy happened. When Amber finally took her home from Chris and Fiona’s farmhouse the day Mac left, she was shocked by the multiple news vans and reporters camped out in front of her parent’s property, ready and waiting with microphones poised to inundate her with prying questions.

  “Is Mac putting together a new band so he can still tour?”

  “Are you and Mac getting married?”

  “How did Mac react when he found out his entire band was killed in the crash?”

  Crouched in the backseat with her head hung low, Nicky exhaled her frustration in a growl of emotion. “Seriously? How do you think he reacted, fucking idiots?” She relied on her feisty friend, Amber, who laid on the horn and bullied her way through the throng, safely depositing her into her mother and father’s arms.

  For the next couple of days, she secluded herself in her childhood home, shocked by the extended news footage she finally witnessed on television regarding the tragedy. One hundred and eighty-seven souls died on that terrible day, the cause of the fatal crash under investigation but believed to have been pilot error in dangerous weather conditions. Knowing Mac could have been a name on the list of casualties, Nicky thanked God repeatedly for sparing his life – even though Mac insisted she was the one who saved him.

  The smiling faces of Mac’s bandmates filled the TV screen from the same promo shots used to sell their record albums. How she wished she could have gotten to know each one of them better, the sadness in her heart surging when a picture of Mac, James, and his wife Shannon blipped across the screen. Poor Shannon was now a grieving widow, probably planning her husband’s funeral, the idle thought incomprehensible to Nicky. She wanted to be there for Mac at each of his bandmates’ funerals, to support him during this unfathomable time of sadness. But he insisted she stay behind. She would have to find a way to send flowers once she knew when and where the funerals would take place. But Mac hadn’t communicated with her much since he left her two days ago. A few rogue texts and one quick phone call were all she had to go on, evidence the insanity of what happened was too overwhelming to process for the both of them.

  It was only a matter of hours before she would finally get to see him live on television at the awards show, his “in memoriam” performance scheduled toward the end of the long line-up of nominated entertainers. Images of her beautiful evening gown came to mind, which she shrugged off with regret. How dare she think about such an inconsequential thing as a dress when people were grieving the loss of so many precious lives? She really didn’t know how to respond to the plethora of feelings assaulting her since Mac left for Manhattan. She prayed he’d find the support system he needed to navigate his emotions while at the show, especially in the glaring spotlight of celebrity on live TV in front of millions of viewers across the globe.

  Sitting at her parent’s kitchen table, Nicky rested her chin in her hand and watched her father through the window tinker with a tractor engine on the graveled road near the utility barn. His denim overalls were baggy on his lanky frame, and his token work hat was askew. The man hadn’t said much to her since everything happened, leaving the emotional conversations up to her mother to contend with, although he did offer he was terribly sorry. With her afternoon coffee growing cold in the ceramic mug, and her laptop screen darkened into sl
eep mode, she continued to stare out the window.

  “Do you want Dad and me to watch the show with you?” Marjorie asked, sitting across from her. The late-day sun streamed in through the antique glass, enhancing the concerned wrinkles lining her mother’s forehead.

  Wrapping her hands around her mug, Nicky averted her eyes. “I really need to watch it alone. I don’t want to bother Dad with how emotional I might get.”

  Marjorie waved her hand in the air before she rested her forearms across the wooden table. “Sweetie, don’t worry about him. You know he’s the strong silent type. Your father would do absolutely anything for you.”

  Nicky sighed before looking up. “I know. I guess I just really want to watch it alone, Mom. If I change my mind, I’ll come back to the house, I promise. I hope you understand.”

  Marjorie’s motherly smile was warm, her jade eyes full of sympathy. “I do.”

  Nicky hadn’t been back to her place since Mac left. After dinner with her parents, she meandered down the gravel road toward the big white barn. Climbing the back staircase next to the industrial kitchen, she shivered in the chilly air and made a note to herself to bump up the heat in the building. Flicking on the lights, she surveyed her private space and felt…empty. Every pillow was perfectly arranged, every knick-knack in place, her humble abode exactly how she left it. This is how she preferred her life – orderly and uncluttered. But was it? She’d much rather have Mac’s hiking boots kicked off in the corner and dirty whiskey glasses on her coffee table. She could almost imagine their clothes shrugged off, making a lover’s trail to her bed, the very thought causing her heart to clench with longing. Her carefully structured shabby-chic space seemed cold and vacant without the man she loved.