Текст книги "The Play"
Автор книги: Karina Halle
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Текущая страница: 28 (всего у книги 28 страниц)
Speaking of dogs, Lionel and Emily are still around, still licking us to death and sniffing everything in sight. Unfortunately, Jo died a few months ago. Cancer. There was nothing we could do and once Lachlan saw she was suffering, he put her down. It hurt like hell, to be honest, to see that beautiful, sweet dog so fearful on that table at the vet’s office. But at the last minute she looked up at Lachlan and he smiled tearfully at her and she seemed to smile at him. She calmed down. The vet gave the shot and Jo died peacefully.
Naturally it brought up every fresh, painful memory of my mother’s death. That’s something that will never go away. Ever. I wish it could. I wish it would. But in some ways it feels wrong because someone like my mom should always be in the forefront of your thoughts. To feel that loss, that pain, is just a testament to the kind of person that she was.
Though sometimes it really is hard to just get out of bed. Sometimes you wake up with dreams of that person and there’s that blissful moment between sleep and reality where you think everything is as it always was. And then it sinks in how much everything has changed. I realize she’s gone and my chest is filled with stones.
On those mornings I reach for Lachlan and he’s always there. Because he’s my rock. He’s my love and my everything. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him and nothing he wouldn’t do for me and god, it’s scary to have that kind of love, it really is, but I would never trade it for anything.
I know I used to think that the kind of love that my mother had for my father was the kind that would ruin you. So big and bold and powerful, it would take over your life. And it’s true. Because the love I have for Lachlan is like that. It’s bigger than the both of us. It has the power to collapse us, like the darkest star imploding on itself, too great for its own good. But what a beautiful thing to have, a love so deep that it can bring people to their very knees. A love that can rise from the ashes, greater and stronger than ever before.
Amara elbows me in my side, bringing my focus back to the rugby game at hand. I’m sitting with her in the lower stands, though I know that Jessica, Donald and Brigs are up in the box seats.
“One more try and they have it,” Amara squeals, clutching onto her beer even though there’s nothing left of it since she’s been chugging them down like a mad woman, along with the rest of the stadium.
I’ve pretty much stopped drinking in support of Lachlan. Maybe I’ll have some wine when it’s a girl’s night with Amara at her place, but when I’m with Lachlan I’m as sober as a jaybird. It doesn’t really have an effect on my life, it’s just something I need to do for him and I do it without him asking. Because I want to. Because he would do anything for me.
Amara has become a good friend though. She’s actually a lot like me, totally opinionated and speaking her mind, even though her love life is a bit lackluster. Still, Lachlan and I are always trying to set her up with some rugby player of the moment and I don’t think she can complain too much about that. Naturally, she still does.
Of course I talk to Nicola and Steph all the time, so I don’t feel like I’ve lost them at all. They both want to come out and visit with Linden and Bram but…well, there’s a complication now.
Stephanie is pregnant.
I know, I’m sad about it in a totally selfish way because it means that she’s moving onto a part of her life that I can’t relate to and I’m afraid that our relationship will change. But at the same time, it’s Steph. She’s always going to have my back, no matter what, and I know I can always be real with her. And really, she’s just so happy that she and Linden are going to be parents that her excitement is contagious. It’s enough that I’m buying every Scottish baby item I can find, including the tiniest little kilt in the MacGregor tartan. I figure girl, or boy, it’s wearable.
Either way, Stephanie is going to be an excellent mom and I can’t wait to see what kind of terribly attractive human being she’s going to pop out. I think I’ll have to fly back to San Francisco just for that.
I’m also in constant contact with my all of my brothers. In fact, I’m far closer with them than I ever was before and I think that wherever my mother is hanging out with my father that they’re probably happy that we’ve all finally found each other.
The people beside us start chanting something in favor of Edinburgh as the teams come together in the field. We watch as the scrum takes place, Edinburgh pushing Munster back until Thierry gets the ball at the back of the players and quickly tosses it under to another guy who then tosses it to Lachlan who is waiting in the wings.
Lachlan makes a run for it, the ball under his arm, even though the other team has players going for him, watching his every move. They’re always on him like a hawk.
But they never have his speed.
Watching him run is as impressive to me now as the first time I ever saw him on the field. He moves with such passion that you can’t help but compare him to a wild stallion or a feral bull, galloping toward freedom, moving like he was born to move.
I hold my breath as goes. So does everyone.
A player goes to tackle but Lachlan makes a move to sidestep before changing his mind and then plows through them. The guy goes down and Lachlan keeps running, legs and arms pumping, carrying him along so fast you think he’s going to break the sound barrier. He’s a hot blur of ink and muscle.
Someone else moves in front, blocking him, but Lachlan only bounces off and keeps going. He punts the ball down the field, side steps someone else, then keeps running until he meets up with the ball again.
By now we’re all screaming, on our feet, waving everything we can wave because he’s feet from making a try and winning the game.
And Lachlan just picks up that ball like it was always there waiting for him and runs across the line, making a dramatic dive onto the grass and sliding on his stomach. I know that was just for show but the crowd fucking loves it.
I fucking love it.
It’s rare to see him showboat so I know he’s got to be feeling good right now.
So am I. I’m screaming my head off, jumping up and down with Amara.
Lachlan gets to his feet, tossing the ball on the ground, smiling so big that happy fucking tears are winding down my face. The rest of his team runs out to hug him, jumping around, celebrating their win during the first game of the season.
He’s so getting laid tonight.
But then he does something funny. He runs away from his mates, away from the opposing team who is ready to shake hands, and heads toward the camera men on the sidelines. His coach Alan follows him, quickly passing something off into Lachlan’s hands before he runs back to the team. Lachlan then talks to one of the camera men until a reporter comes over, seeing an opportunity for an interview.
Lachlan smiles at her, whispers something in her ear.
He takes the microphone.
Suddenly the giant screens in the stadium fill with the sight of Lachlan’s handsome face. He smiles broadly at the screen, something that makes him look so much younger, softer, dare I say goofy. He brings the microphone to his lips and speaks into it but no sound comes out.
He tries again but nothing. His lips are moving, he’s smiling, his eyes crinkling joyfully, but that’s all we in the stands can know.
“What is he doing?” I ask Amara.
She shakes her head. “I haven’t a bloody clue.”
Finally he waves at someone and they come out with a clipboard and a pen. He takes the pen, is about to write something down, and then he pauses and looks up at me. Right at me in the stands.
I can feel Amara’s eyes on me too, as well as the people below us as they all crane their necks to look at what the hell Lachlan McGregor, savior of the game, is staring at.
It’s me.
Always me for him.
Always him for me.
Our eyes are locked together.
Then he writes something down.
He looks back at me while he displays the paper and clipboard in front of the camera. I know that the screens are showing a message because people are gasping, but I can’t take my eyes off of him. His gaze always holds me, as strong as his hands.
“Kayla,” Amara whispers, grabbing my arm. “Oh my god.”
I finally look at the screens. At the shot of the paper Lachlan is holding, still smiling, albeit a bit nervously now. It’s shaking.
It reads: Kayla Moore will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?
Signed: Lachlan McGregor.
Then the clipboard drops away, the camera focus on the grass.
My head swivels back to him but he’s gone, running forward, across the field.
Up the stairs.
Down the row.
Stopping right in front of me.
I’m still sitting down. I haven’t moved. I haven’t really formed one coherent thought.
I honestly can’t figure out what’s going on. Is this really my Lachlan, my reserved, subdued Lachlan? Am I caught in the middle of a play or something?
He gets down on one knee so that he’s at my level. His damp hair clings to his sweaty brow, his eyes clear green, piercing through me.
“What are you doing?’ I ask him, so stunned.
He holds out one of his hands and held between his fingers is a ring. A gorgeous, beautiful emerald and silver ring.
“Oh my god,” I think I say, maybe I just breathe it.
“I thought it would be some grand romantic gesture,” he says. “But it didn’t really work out that way. Technical difficulties.” He has a way of staring at me that makes the rest of the world disappear, like I have blinders on. I’m hanging onto his every word, tunnel vision of his face. “They say you should always do something that scares you, pushes your comfort zone. You did that a lot with me. Every time you came here to Scotland, you gave up the life you knew behind. You were brave. You took a risk. Many risks. Now, I know the surest thing I could ever do is ask you to marry me. Because I know I’m supposed to be with you and you know you’re supposed to be with me. I knew it from the moment I asked you here, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. But now I do. Now I know. And so I’m doing this like this, because it’s bloody frightening.”
His eyes dart from side to the side, at all the people, all his fans, that are listening to his every word and watching us like a television program. “I mean, I don’t know any of these people. But I do know that I want them all to know just how much I love you. That if it wasn’t for you, if it wasn’t for Kayla Moore, I wouldn’t be here today. I wouldn’t be the man I am today. A better man. And yes, a man that’s terrified that you might just say no in front of the entire world. But that’s the risk I’m willing to take for the chance that you may say yes.” He swallows hard, his eyes measuring me. “Will you marry me?”
“Are you serious?” I whisper, still feeling like this is some kind of dream, like someone is going to pull the rug out from under me and I’ll fall flat on my face, humiliated. But I guess he has to be feeling the same way too. Every moment that the ring, shining beautifully, is held out there in his hand, waiting for my finger, is a moment that he dies a little inside.
What the fuck am I even waiting for?
As if there was ever anything to think about.
“Yes,” I tell him gleefully.
It hits me once, twice.
Oh my god, he’s asked me to marry him.
Oh my god, I’m going to marry my lover, my best friend, the man of my dreams.
“Yes!” I say louder now, smiling so wide it hurts. “Yes, I will marry you Lachlan. I love you. I love you.”
He grins at me with some much joy it takes my breath away. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I tell him, shoving my ring finger toward him. “Put the damn ring on it already.”
He laughs, his eyes watering, and slips the gorgeous ring on my finger. His hands are shaking. It might just be the most adorable, most vulnerable moment and we’re sharing it among so many people.
But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s our moment.
I stare down at it on my hand. It’s so beautiful. Not because of how it looks, because it really is gorgeous, but because it came from him. Because he chose it for me when he knew he wanted me to be his wife.
I look up at my future husband and I can’t even believe it.
“I’m so lucky,” I say, beaming at him, my cheeks hot and stretched from smiling so hard.
“Aye,” he says with a sly smile. “But then again, so am I.”
The next few hours pass by in a blur. I can’t really believe what happened. Pictures are taken because obviously the local paparazzi is going to go a little bit nuts and Lachlan’s family come by to congratulate us and I can tell they knew he was going to do it. I was the only one caught unaware and boy was I caught.
Finally we manage to break free of all the hoopla and we’re on our own and heading in a cab back to the flat. We don’t speak much in the back. I just stare at my ring while he holds my hand and stares out the window. I’m still coming to terms with how surreal the day has been. First he wins the team an epic game, then he proposes to me in front of thousands. I mean…he fucking proposed! On one knee and everything.
I’m getting fucking married!
It hits me even harder once we get into the flat and I realize that this is really, truly my home now. All of the beautiful cornices and designs, everything will be my home.
More than all, he’s my home.
Always will be, wherever we are.
Emily and Lionel greet us at the door as usual, wanting attention, perhaps feeding off of our happiness, but Lachlan quickly whisks me away into the bedroom. He closes the doors behind him and peels his shirt off, displaying tattoos and abs for days. One of his latest tattoos is the word “love” across his chest.
The love is for me.
He strides across the room, grabs me, pulling me toward me and gazes at me so intensely I fear I may spontaneously combust. “I love you,” he says to me, his burning eyes roaming over my skin. “And this, us, this will be forever.”
“You promise,” I whisper.
“Always,” he says.
He kisses me long, deep. Beautiful. Our lips are sweet with love.
We fall back into bed.
And find each other again and again.
The End
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s no secret that my muse for the character of Lachlan is none other than the magnificent actor, Tom Hardy. But it’s also Mr. Hardy himself that inspired me to do more than just write a book. An advocate for adopting shelter dogs and a warrior against the unfair stigma and treatment of pit bulls, Hardy uses his fame and stature to try and help educate people on the matter. And while my own fame and stature is absolutely miniscule, especially compared to a mad genius like him, it did inspire me to speak out and do more for a cause I deeply believe in.
I rescued a pit bull mix from a high kill-shelter in San Bernardino, California. Or, I should say, the lovely ladies at the non-profit Vancouver Island Flirting with Fido organized a rescue run, trucking up dogs from various shelters and bringing them up to Canada to fit them with various loving families. Most of the dogs are pit bulls or mixes, bully breeds that are misunderstood and usually cast aside, the first ones to be put down in a shelter alongside the sick and the old. Because these dogs do have a terrible reputation, the organization takes special care to let people foster the animals first so they can find out if the dog is meant for them. Not every dog is for everybody – especially rescue dogs who may or may not have been abused and have behavioural issues – and dog ownership is a life-time commitment. It’s not just until you have a baby and then you decide you don’t want your dog anymore. It’s not just until you have to move and you don’t want to bother finding an apartment that takes dogs. It’s not just until the dog is old and can’t play anymore and just isn’t as cute. A forever home is a forever home.
So my husband and I took this scared little pit bull mix, Bruce, into our home. And it wasn’t easy. There were times at the beginning where I thought I couldn’t handle it. Bruce wasn’t like the dogs I grew up with. He was terrified of everyone and everything. Tail always between his legs, shaking like a leaf. He didn’t bark, he didn’t make any sounds. He just wanted to run away and be on his own, away from human hands that he thought would only hurt him.
But we persevered. I wanted to be that forever home for Bruce. I was afraid that in any other hands, he would never be happy, never trust, never come out of his shell.
Slowly but surely though, he did come out of his shell. With lots of patience, lots of love, and, yes, lots of frustration, Bruce learned to trust us. He learned his commands. He learned to be a big puppy in such a way that makes me think when he was living on the streets as a young dog, he never got a chance to even be a puppy.
Now Bruce is a completely different dog. He barks at strangers who come to the house, which is both bad because it’s annoying and good because it means he finally has confidence. He’s protective of us and we’re protective of him. He’s better with people in general too, once he figures out they aren’t to be feared and of course he adores being around other dogs. One day soon we’ll be rescuing another dog in need so he can have a little buddy to love on and play with.
But of course, I feel that it’s not enough. That’s why I decided to donate $1 from every preorder of The Play to animal charities who need the funding. From major ones like Best Friends Animal Society, Battersea Dogs & Cats, SPCA and others, to smaller ones like the aforementioned Flirting with Fido, Villalobos, and more. So if you’re reading this book because you preordered, THANK YOU. Your money is going to help dogs, cats and other animals get the loving homes they need. You’ve helped save a life.
And if you didn’t preorder, there is still time to make a difference. My check from this book will come at the end of January and it’s then that I’ll be making the donations to the various charities. You’ll be able to follow along with this on my website: www.authorkarinahalle.com under “News.” If you want to give, you can always donate to the ones I’ll have listed. If you don’t see a charity listed that you think is worthy, please email me at [email protected] with the subject line “Save the Puppies” and I’ll see what I can do. My goal is to donate to as many deserving organizations as possible. Depending on how fundraising goes, I may even donate all of my release day sales to the charities as well, so if you also bought this on release day, THANK YOU FOR BEING AWESOME. Also, buying a book on release day is super special to authors like myself, so thank you again.
Of course, I can’t just thank generous readers, Bruce and Tom Hardy for this book, so without further ado: Scott Mackenzie, I’m sorry I spent all of our Hong Kong, Australia and New Zealand trip writing. Who knew this book would be this big? Who knew I could actually write a 150,000 word book while freaking CAMPING. Yeah, I’m not sure if this is a good or bad thing. Are no vacations safe anymore? First I write The Pact while in Hawaii, now I finish half of The Play while gallivanting around New Zealand in a campervan. What’s next? You know what…don’t answer that. But I promise to make it up to you. *wink*
Many thanks to my parents, Kara Malinczak, Laura Helseth, Stephanie Sandra Brown, Sandra Cortez, Kelly St-Laurent, Dani Sanchez, Taylor Haggerty, K.A. Tucker (this table of contents is all her, she can write AND format, who thunk it), Mark Coker, everyone in Hallewood for their enthusiasm, feedback and talent, Instagram (it’s where it’s at), and of course my loyal crew of Anti-Heroes. You’re the best bunch of readers an author could ever have. I am truly, truly lucky and extremely grateful to have you. Let’s have Tom Hardy Parties for the rest of time!
