Steal My Girl

by Casey McMillin

  "We just can't, Rory. I mean I had fun with you and everything but, no, I'm sorry, I just can't see this working out."

  "Ever?"

  I gave him a puzzled look.

  "Look, I'm gonna be gone for two weeks. Can I call ye when we return?"

  I laughed. "No."

  He had the nerve to look injured. "Megan, I tried to tell ye before, and I'm gonna say it again. I need ye to believe me when I tell ye I'm a good guy. You have to trust me."

  "I have no problem believing you, Rory, but it doesn't change the fact that your job, whatever that is, is dangerous."

  It would have been much easier to say that to someone who didn't look like a big Viking standing there, gorgeously brooding over me. I wanted so badly to give in, but I'd already resolved to break it off completely, and I knew that was the wise choice.

  That knowledge didn’t make the choice any easier. Ending things is painful, that's all there is to it. I'd only been with Rory one time, but seeing his sincerity was so hard that it caused an actual ache in my chest.

  I was about to respond when Tom slid the back door open. "You ready, Pumpkin?"

  "Yes sir." I glanced at Rory with a regretful smile, and he gave me one in return, only his didn't reach his eyes. "Rory said you guys are leaving for two weeks," I said, trying not to seem like things were awkward in the room. "That means you'll be gone for Christmas."

  "It doesn't always work out like this, but this year it did," Tom said.

  "My dad's sister stays with us every year," I said, continuing the small talk. "She brings her whole family down from Cincinnati every year, and they take over our house."

  Tom flashed a smile. "You're welcome to come away with Rory and me if you need to escape," he said, chuckling and ushering me through the living room, toward the door.

  I didn't look back to see what Rory was doing.

  ***

  Rory watched Megan walk out the door with his dad before he went straight up to Drake's room. "I hate fuckin' seein' her like that," he said, storming in without knocking.

  Addie was stretched out on the bed and Drake was nowhere in sight. She sat up, looking at Rory like he was crazy for bursting into Drake's room like that. "Who? Megan? I know, I hate it for her. Is she done with your dad?" Addie moved to the edge of the bed looking like she was getting ready to leave, but Rory put out a hand to stop her.

  "She's already gone. My dad gave her a ride home."

  "Did she want to ride with him?"

  Rory shrugged. "I assume she did. She certainly wasn't protesting." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know what to do. I begged her to let me make it up to her and she refused."

  "It's not really the type of thing you can make up to her," Addie said.

  Rory was quiet for a few long seconds, but then said, "Shite, Addie, I'm not saying I want to freak out and go get married or anything, but Christ, she's acting like nothing happened between us."

  "She was kidnapped, you idiot. You can't expect—wait what? What happened between you guys?"

  Rory could tell by Addie's surprised expression that it was the first she'd heard of it. "Well, I spent the night over there the night before she was taken."

  "I know." Addie continued to stare at Rory like she didn't see the point. "Megan said nothing happened between you guys."

  Rory hesitated and then cocked his head at her. "Really?"

  "Was she lying?" Addie asked.

  Rory considered his response. "I don't know how to answer that, but whatever happened between us, even if it was just talkin', which it wasn't, I'm so fuckin' surprised she's able to pretend she barely knows me."

  "Do you love her, Rory McDonald?"

  Rory scoffed. "No, I just hate to see her like that."

  "She's fine. She's gonna be fine. And they're all gonna keep everything quiet."

  "That's not what I'm worried about."

  "I know. You're worried about her."

  "I am," he said. "She said herself that she was scared. I wish she'd just let me be with her, so I could protect her."

  "Rory, that's really sweet, but she doesn't want to get mixed up in all this."

  "What's this, Addie? What do ye mean by this? What yer mixed up in with my brother? Have ye ever been kidnapped? No. It was a fuckin' fluke."

  "She just wants to distance herself, Rory, and you need to respect that."

  Rory sighed. "I can't believe she said nothing happened between us," he said.

  Addie regarded him like she couldn't believe he wouldn't drop it. "You'll have to excuse her if she forgot about your little sexual escapade after she was freaking kidnapped, Rory. I'm sure starting a relationship is the last thing on her mind right now."

  "I didn't say I wanted to start a relationship," he said, defensively.

  Addie rolled her eyes. "Well, congratulations Rory, if I wasn't pulling against you a second ago, I am now. I'm sorry, but I'm not letting you get your kicks with Megan—especially given the circumstances."

  "What circumstances?" Drake said, coming back into the room.

  "Apparently Rory got to talk to Megan for a few minutes before your dad brought her home," Addie said.

  "I thought she looked good," Drake said, looking at Rory.

  "She didn't want anything to do with me."

  "Why should she?"

  Rory ignored the question. He couldn't think about it anymore. He really liked her and was hurt by how easily indifference came to her. His only choice was to push away the thought of Megan and the burgundy bruises on her beautiful, delicate face.

  "I have to head back to Mack's because I left before we were finished loading, but I'll see ye tonight before we head out."

  Addie couldn’t stand the sight of Rory all torn up like he was. "I'll send you updates on Megan's recovery," she said. "Can you text while you're on the boat?"

  Rory smiled thankfully at her. "It'd probably be best to email me."

  "I'll keep you posted."

  Rory, Addie, and Drake were all quiet for a few seconds, all thinking entirely different things.

  "If I get her a Christmas present will you see that it gets to her?" Rory said, breaking the silence.

  Drake and Addie both looked at Rory with dumbstruck expressions and said, "Megan?" in unison.

  Rory returned their screwed-up expression. "Who else?"

  Drake and Addie looked at each other like they were about to have some committee meeting, which made Rory throw his hands in the air.

  "I'm getting her a Christmas present, so ye can help me with it, or I can have someone else do it," he said.

  Drake cracked up laughing at his brother's impatience, while Addie just gawked at him. "Rory, I can't believe you're like this with her."

  "What? I feel bad about what happened."

  "You shouldn't. It wasn't your fault any more than it was mine." That statement struck close to home, and Addie hoped her guilt on the subject wasn't obvious when she said it. "Drake and I will be at my parents' house in Jensen for Christmas, but I'll help you deliver something if we're still in town."

  Rory knew exactly what he was going to get her, but decided not to tell Addie or Drake. He knew at least one of them would object, and he didn't want to deal with that.

  "It better not be an engagement ring," Drake said.

  "As if I would have someone else deliver a ring for me, you arse."

  "Okay good, I was just making sure, because you're acting like an ass in general with this girl."

  "Fuck ye, Drake. I'm not the one who locked myself in my shop for a week to make a piano bench."

  Drake put his hands up in surrender and smiled at Rory. "I'm just saying, maybe you should rethink the Christmas present thing since she's not really talking to you right now and everything's still really fresh."

  "Maybe ye should just mind yer own business."

  Drake shrugged challengingly. "Yer the one who brought it up," he said, rolling his R's in a perfect imitation of Rory's accent.

  "Screw
the lot of ye," he said, pointing at Drake and Addie.

  She stuck her bottom lip out.

  "Okay, I'm sorry for that, but screw ye, Drake." He sighed again. "I hate that I have to leave right now. What if she needs to go to the doctor or something?"

  "She's fine," Addie said. "We know who to call if she needs anything. And I told you I'd send updates."

  Rory left the room in a huff, and Addie stared at Drake with wide eyes.

  Drake shrugged. "I guess he feels like it's his fault."

  "You think that was all about guilt?" Addie asked. "No way! He's smitten."

  "He's not smitten. Rory's not like that."

  "You're wrong," Addie said. "I can't believe you don't see it."

  "I think he feels responsible," Drake said. "He'll stop once she gets better. I feel for him. It's hard to see her all beat up like that."

  "We'll see," Addie said.

  Chapter 14

  Christmas snuck up on me.

  It had been over two weeks since I got home, which meant my bruises were just about three weeks old. They were faint, but I knew where they were. There was still a greenish-yellow quality to the side of my face that I'd be glad to see fully disappear. Thankfully, it was easily disguised with makeup.

  I was reluctant but excited to get my feet wet with human interaction.

  My aunt and her family got to our house the night before, which was Christmas Eve, and would stay until after the first. Cincinnati is cold, and they planned their vacation in December every year rather than in the summer. They'd been coming for as long as I could remember.

  Aunt P.J. and Uncle Jamey were both professors at a University. My cousins were close to my age, and we always loved family get-togethers and hated that we lived so far apart. The two oldest were twenty-one-year-old twins, one boy and one girl whose names were Sam and Charlotte. Thomas was seventeen, and he'd always been close to Steven. Sam and Charlotte were both still living at home since they went to the college where their parent's taught and they lived close to the campus.

  The twins each had to miss a Christmas or two over the years to be with whoever they were seeing at the time, but mostly, the whole family came down. I always looked forward to it.

  This year was slightly different just because I was still in a peculiar frame of mind from the incident, but I tried to stay positive. I knew it'd be nice to have the distraction, and I was extremely comfortable with them, so it was a positive thing, and I tried to see it that way.

  Dad asked me if I wanted to have them call off their trip—said he could take care of that discreetly if I wanted him to, but I refused. Charlotte hadn't even noticed the bruises, but if she did, I'd just give her the same story I'd given Steven—that I slipped and fell.

  My parents and I talked about it before hand, and decided it was best if we kept the story short and sweet with my little brother. First I had the flu, and then I slipped on some stairs and fell on my face. We didn't have to account for my car, which was recovered from the Target parking lot, cleaned up, and returned to me within a day by someone Tom knew.

  Rain had come in through the moon roof, but otherwise there was no damage. My phone was in my bag and got soaked in the rain, so I had to get a new one, which was a pain. I went ahead and got a new number while I was at it, since there's just something about being abducted that makes you a little paranoid.

  My cousin Charlotte, who was staying in the guesthouse with me, was currently in the living room taking a selfie to send me for her contact information on my new phone.

  It was Christmas Day, which happened to fall on a Tuesday. We usually ate a huge late lunch that was always an elaborate meal from a catering company called Carson's that my parents used all the time.

  My mom had been on a Martha Stewart kick lately, though, and had mentioned cooking Christmas dinner herself. My dad was strictly against it, and I didn't know until this morning, when I went to the house and saw my mom up to her ears in dirty bowls and spoons, that she won the argument.

  My aunt P.J. hated to cook and was sitting at the bar being no help whatsoever. My mom didn't want it anyway. She was a sight. She had on an apron and was stirring, mixing, and pouring like a madwoman. I didn't have a history of loving my mom's cooking, but she'd been on a jag with it recently, and was actually getting a little better at it. She and my dad weren't the happiest of couples, but they both pretended to love each other during the holidays, which was a nice fantasy to look forward to every year. I hoped my mother's cooking wouldn't compromise the happiness factor, but everyone seemed to be in good spirits when I was in the main house this morning.

  Charlotte and I had been hanging out in my place, and were told to be back for lunch at 2PM. She was spacing out on her phone when I joined her in the living room.

  "Did you get that picture?" she asked.

  I took my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and stared down at it. "Aw, that's cute," I said.

  She was my opposite in so many ways, and I'd always thought she was so beautiful. Where I was blonde with light eyes, she had dark hair and eyes with fair skin like Addie. She always had cute, trendy hairstyles, and wasn't afraid to do things like cut her bangs at a diagonal or try some cool, unconventional hair color. She'd also been collecting tattoos since she was eighteen, but her mom knew nothing of this, and she always got them in places that were easily hidden.

  I stared down at her picture thinking about how cute she was. It ran in the family. Her brothers both had dark features and were at least as handsome as she was beautiful.

  Sam and Charlotte turned twenty-one since we last saw each other, and I knew they'd want to go out while they were here—she'd already mentioned it. I was spacing out thinking about the prospect of going out and how I felt about it when I got a text. I'd been looking at her picture, so I was staring at the screen when it came in.

  The contact information didn't come up, but that didn't mean a whole lot since about half of my contacts were lost with the old phone. I barely glanced at the number anyway. What was the sense in trying to figure out who it was when I could just read the text?

  I stared down at it.

  Unknown number: "I got your new number from Addie, but she has no idea, so don't be mad at her."

  I didn't even know for sure who it was, and already my heart was about to beat out of my chest at the thought of it being Rory. I continued reading.

  "I got you a Christmas present. It will be delivered to your house at 4PM. Please try to be home as it will come with information that the person delivering will have to go over with you. Please accept it. I wish I could be there to deliver it myself. Merry Christmas."

  I read it again, trying to confirm that it was sent from Rory, but the text wasn't specific enough for me to be certain.

  "What's the matter?" Charlotte asked.

  I must have been making a face, but what kind of gift would be delivered at a specific time on Christmas Day—with instructions, no less.

  "I just got a text saying a Christmas gift was being delivered."

  Charlotte's eyes got huge. "From who?"

  I shrugged. "I think it might be this guy Rory, but I'm not sure because of my contacts. I hate to write back and be like, who is this, so I'll just wait and see what it is when it gets here, don't you think?"

  Charlotte looked at me in disbelief. "No. Duh. Just text back and see who it is. Who's Rory? Is that Addie's boyfriend's bro—"

  "Yes."

  "Why are you smiling so much?"

  "I'm not. It's just cool that something's being delivered, that's all."

  "Ask who it is," Charlotte said, pointing to my phone.

  I didn't end up listening to her. I just text back with a general, "Thanks, I'll be home," since I couldn’t work up the nerve. Truth was, I'd been unable to get Rory McDonald off my mind, and I was afraid the slightest push could send me running toward him.

  There was no word back from the mystery person. I assumed it was Rory, but didn't let myself hope. I could
have easily text Addie to get Rory's number, but for whatever reason, I didn't want the mystery solved.

  It was 4PM on the nose when a black van pulled up at the house. Charlotte and I had gone back to the guesthouse after we ate Christmas lunch. Mom was totally flustered and an hour late with lunch, but it was edible, and we all acted like we loved it.

  I wanted to be able to intercept the delivery person without everyone else seeing him, so I left right after I ate and went to the driveway to wait. Charlotte followed, and we sat on the edge of the flowerbed looking out at the palms that were swaying in the ocean breeze. It caused a familiar, whooshing sound that I enjoyed, and Charlotte and I were just sitting there in comfortable silence when the black van pulled up. The windows were darkly tinted, so I couldn't see the driver, but I waved when they pulled into the driveway so they'd know they were in the right place. Charlotte stayed behind, watching everything from the side.

  The driver pulled up in front of the guesthouse, and I stood there as he got out. It was a man, a hunk of a man, a huge, muscle-bound man wearing a tight black t-shirt that emphasized his massive form.

  "Wow," I said, crossing to stand near the van as he got out.

  He smiled and stuck out a hand for me to shake. I did so, and afterward, he took his sunglasses off and put them on top of his head. "Are you Megan Richie?"

  "I am," I said, smiling. He was a strikingly handsome military type, and I stood, absentmindedly wondering what he could possibly be delivering.

  He reached into the van and pulled out a package for me. It was a cool looking envelope that was made of brown paper and had two round grommets with a piece of string as a fastener. My name was written on the outside, but otherwise there were no markings.

  I looked up at he driver. "Thanks," I said.

  He smiled. "That's not the package. That's just the instructions. The package is in the back." His smile faded to an almost worried expression. "Do you not know what you're getting?"