After breakfast, Mia retreats to her room to work, leaving me alone with my sister in the kitchen.
“Subtle matchmaking, Lil,” I comment dryly as I clean up. “About as subtle as a toddler set loose with a lit match in a hay barn.”
She shrugs, unrepentant. “Someone had to do something. You two were dancing around each other like teenagers.” She lets out a giggle, flicking her long blond hair over her shoulder.
“We're not dancing around anything. She's leaving as soon as she gets a new passport.”
“So? That doesn't mean you can't enjoy each other's company in the meantime.” Lily's expression softens. “Grant, you’re my brother, so Ihaveto love you. But believe me when I say, that this is the first time I've seen you genuinely interested in someone in years. Don't waste it because you're afraid of an expiration date.”
“I'm not afraid,” I protest, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears.
“Please,” Lily scoffs. “You've been playing it safe since Jake died. Taking physical risks—” she gestures to my injured shoulder—sure, but emotional ones? Not a chance.”
Her words hit too close to home, and I turn away, focusing on scrubbing an already clean pan.
“She's different,” Lily continues more gently. “I can see it in the way you look at her.”
“It doesn't matter. She's got a life waiting for her—Olympic training, travel writing. She's not staying in Portree.”
“Maybe not,” Lily concedes. “But that doesn't mean this can't matter while it lasts.”
I sigh, setting the pan down. “When did you get so wise about relationships?”
“Oh, you know, just while you were busy being emotionally constipated big brother,” she retorts with a grin, then grows serious. “Just... don't push her away because you're scared of getting hurt. You deserve something real, even if it's temporary.”
After Lily leaves, I stand in the empty kitchen, her words echoing in my mind. The thought of Mia leaving makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. Yet the idea of asking her to stay feels equally impossible.
What could I possibly offer that would compete with the life she's built?
Chapter 17
Mia
I pace the length of the guest room, my phone pressed to my ear as Suzi, my coach of six years, unleashes her predictable lecture.
“This is exactly why I tell you to travel with a training schedule, Mia! Consistency is everything at your level.” Her voice has that crisp, no-nonsense quality that normally centers me.
“Trust me, this wasn't planned Coach,” I reply, glancing out the window at the vast Texas landscape. “One minute I was headed to Maine, the next I'm stranded in cowboy country without my passport.”
“Excuses don't win medals,” she shoots back. “What's your access situation?”
I sigh, dropping onto the edge of the bed. “There's supposedly an Olympic-sized pool in the next town over. My... host offered to take me.”
“Host?” Suzi's tone sharpens with interest. “I thought you were in a motel.”
“It's complicated,” I mutter, not wanting to explain the whole plumbing disaster and how I've ended up living under Grant Taylor's roof. “But the pool access isn't guaranteed yet.”
“Then find alternatives. I need you doing at least two hours daily, Mia. Your qualifying times were good, but not good enough to slack off.”
Her words sting, but they're true. I've worked too hard to let a detour derail my Olympic dreams.
“What about open water?” I ask, as I recall Grant's mention of a river on the property.
“If it's safe and you can measure distance, sure. Resistance training is actually good for your stroke power.” She pauses. “Just don't get eaten by anything.”
I laugh despite myself. “I'll try not to become alligator food.”
After hanging up, I slip out the back door, determined to at least scout the river before Grant returns from whatever ranch business called him away after breakfast.
